#also can I get your cow drawing tattooed on me

[southislandwren]

Billy Kelly fans are like. 8 year olds and their parents. And then there’s me, very much not 8 years old or a parent to an 8 year old. Not saying I’m quirky silly the ~ only ~ non 8yo fan but also I don’t think a ton of adults listen to his kids stuff lol

#I have this stupid dream of seeing him live and him being like I have a special fan here today. I’m playing this one for her #and then he plays people really like milk but ALSO he’s like ohhh I need some help with the backup vocals…. #and I’ve been doing the backup vocals for just about 10 years so ofc I’d be like oh I can help….. #and then he invites me up on stage and we fucking kill PRLM together #he’s literally my idol I love him so much…. #anyway I’ve been listening to his music for like 3 hours straight and it’s March and everything hurts #also I had a large McDonalds coffee at 7pm #I remember being a tiny little 9 year old going and emailing him for the first time and he REPLIED and my whole fam was ecstatic for me #I should message him on Facebook and be like hey I love that you’ve been doing more instrumental stuff since I love that type of music #also can I get your cow drawing tattooed on me #and also can you put the family garden on Spotify #I have so much appreciation for his music I just want him to be like aware that no matter what I’ll listen to his stuff and enjoy it #billy kelly post

[strawberrybabydog]

hi babydog i hope you’re ok!! i recently discovered that i am an ox therian/endel (please correct me if that isn’t the write way to put it) and i was wondering if you had any ideas for things to wear/accessories to make me feel like an ox? i really can’t think of any except a nose ring which i am HEAVILY contemplating.

yeah septum rings are epic! you can get false ones if you dont want to commit to getting a piercing (please no magnetic ones though! dont want to accidentally sniff it into your body)

big tag earring(s)! i Know ox are Not Cow, but using milk bag tags for this would actually be effective because of the shape ^_^ even if you're not a domestic type bovine, it might still be Species. lots of wolf therians wear collars after all ^_^

earrings in general actually might be Very Species - the only animals that really Get Earrings are herded ungulates..

not sure if this would be Gross/Bad but maybe draw a "brand" for your skin with gel pens (and maybe eventually a tattoo!)

hoof shoes my most beloved of all time forever <333

exercise! ox are huge muscly animals, it feels great for anyone to work of energy but you might get extra Species Points ;0)

ears/horn hat/headband is probably obvious but i'll throw that in here too

also probably obvious but eating human foods which are or mimic your species' foods is always awesome. for you that might mean eating a lot of vegs/grains so make sure to balance your meals

#is this good. sorry if this sucks :'0) i trying #asks #alterhuman #endel #species euphoria #pawsthetics #queue

[waheelawhisperer]

@norondor asked me to do this so now you all get to learn things about me that you never wanted to know.

Tea, coffee, or soda?

It used to be soda, but then I realized I was getting fat, said "fuck that", and cut a crapton of sugar out of my diet. I stopped drinking soda/eating candy/eating ice cream etc., dropped 30 pounds of extra weight, and gained 2/3 of it back in the form of muscle. I'm now slightly above my ideal weight because my work has led me to start stress-eating and annoyed about it.

I do drink tea somewhat regularly and have for a very long time.

I don't drink coffee at all. I hate bitter drinks, one of the many reasons I almost never consume alcohol.

Dogs or cats?

Dogs, though I love cats as well. I really enjoy being around all kinds of animals and tend to get along well with them, but dogs are my number one choice. Also, I'm slightly allergic to cats, so I don't get to chill with them as much as I would like. I'm dying to have a pet at the moment, but I simply can't take care of one while I'm living in a smallish apartment and have to work long hours on a regular basis. It just wouldn't be the responsible thing to do.

Can you play an instrument?

Not a chance. I should not be allowed near any tool which can be used to make music. I used to really like working with clay and I tried to get into drawing and animation, but I'll be honest, my artistic talents lean more towards the written word.

First song lyrics that pop into your head?

This really varies depending on what I'm listening to at the moment but if you blanked my mind out and told me to just let you know what lyrics came to mind, it'd probably be the first verse of the first song I can ever remember hearing:

The first thing I remember knowin' Was a lonesome whistle blowin' And a young un's dream of growin' up to ride On a freight train leavin' town Not knowin' where I'm bound And no one could change my mind but Mama tried

(Mama Tried, by Merle Haggard)

Do you have any tattoos?

Nah, but I was thinking of getting a womb tattoo that says "Property of Yang Xiao Long" and a tramp stamp that reads "Margaret Nearl's Boytoy".

Favorite place you’ve traveled?

Probably either Hawaii or Key West in Florida. Young me believed that there were many benefits to being a marine biologist and enjoyed going snorkeling at both places (don't get on my ass about how tourism is bad for Hawaii, I was like ten or some shit and had no control over where my family went on vacation or what we did when we got there).

Germany is probably the runner-up. It's probably the one country in the world where people love trains as much as us God-fearing Americans do, so I had a lot of fun visiting various train museums. Regrettably, I didn't get to go to the big one in Berlin because we stayed mostly to the south and west. My family wanted to go to France (puke) at the end of the trip, but I was able to avert that tragedy.

Worst place I've visited: Lubbock. Nothing to do in that shithole besides fuck cows, fuck coeds, and be racist. I've gone there for football games twice and both times the populace has proven itself the worst group of people I've ever had the misfortune of encountering. Every friend I've had who's gone to school there hated it and transferred out, sometimes with new and exciting STDs. Fuck Lubbock and everyone who lives there.

College Station also sucks ass, but at least it's closer to anything that isn't awful than Lubbock. I could go into more detail about that awful town and its obnoxious cultists, but it would take me a week to enumerate every single reason why the world would be a better place if a meteor obliterated College Station tomorrow.

Honorable mention goes to Houston because it's hot and humid and everyone there drives like they're trying to secure their places in Valhalla via vehicular combat.

What’s the last movie you watched?

Bold of you to assume I have time to watch movies. I don't think I've actually sat down and watched one for months. Probably Glass Onion?

You can hang out with one fictional character for an hour… who do you choose?

The immediate answer is to choose one of The Wives, but I'm taking a longer view of things and want to get as much benefit as I can out of an opportunity this valuable, which means that instead of just chilling with someone who I think is cool, I'm gonna try to fundamentally restructure my life here. I'd need to do my research, but I'd want to pick an omnipotent or near-omnipotent being that I could realistically convince to not only help me with things like healing chronic health issues, improving physical stats, getting fat stacks of cash, exerting my will upon the cosmos, and all that fun shit, but do so without exacting what I consider an intolerable price for it. I'm sure there's some supernatural being out there that would be willing to lend me some aid.

Compliment yourself:

This is a dangerous thing to ask of me because my ego is overinflated enough as it is, but I have a big brain, a big heart, and big muscles.

[mushiewrites]

Hi Mushie! <3

I saw you rb'd a post about anons sending you questions so I am sending you some questions... except Im not on anon :P

If you don't feel like answering (all of) these thats completely fine too!! These were just off the top of my head! (Btw sorry for how long this ask is, you can't put readmore's in asks sadly)

1. What would you say is your fav color/ are your top three fav colors?

2. Sunrises or sunsets?

3. Fav animals as a kid vs now?

4. Current fav song if you have one atm/ how often do you listen to music?

5. Do you like to sing?

6. What do you like most about your art? What got you into drawing?

7. Whats the best season/weather?

8. Do you like thunderstorms? Do you like snow?

9. Do you have plants? If yes, how many?

10. Did you drink enough water today? If no, drink some rn this is a threath!

Juno 💗🥺 I love long asks so no need to apologize! For whatever reason mobile also doesn’t ever let me do the “read more” thingy so, I’m used to it 😂 The questions are a welcoming distraction so thank you, I appreciate you so much 😭

1. Okay my all time favorite color is like a teal blue-green? Like if you look up “blue green crayola crayon” that’s my favorite 😂 But second and third favs would have to be probably lavender and mint green maybe? Black also tbh

2. I am literally obsessed with the sky at any time of day, but I prefer evening / nights. I love cotton candy sunsets and starry nights ✨

3. When I was little I think it went in order from giraffe to elephants to wolves to cows to sharks to orcas….I still love all of them now but I’d say cats, orcas and sharks are my top 3. I have tattoos of an orca and a cat, I’m gonna get one of a shark too! (*an extra bit of mushie lore: I have a half sleeve on my left forearm that’s just all animals so rn I have the cat and orca, a moth, and a snake! My next one is gonna be the shark for sure)

4. OOF music related questions. More ~mushie lore~, I was a music nerd. I was in band, choir, advanced choir, music theory, marching band, theatre…..etc. I also was a music major in college 😬 So you can imagine how often I’m surrounded by music. I listen to it every single day, I don’t know how people go without it. I’d say right now, I’m currently just listening to Sabrina Carpenters new album “emails I can’t send” on repeat. But from THAT album, I’d say “because I liked a boy” OR “how many things” are the two I listen to the most! All time fav song…..that is genuinely so hard to pick but maybe “I love you” by Billie Eilish bc it always hurts me in the best way

5. I do be singing literally daily 😂 I used to get leads in musicals and stuff but I also don’t think I’m very good. BUT that being said I’ve had multiple people try and make me audition for shows like the x factor lmfao so do whatever you’d like with that information

6. So at the moment I’m not really sure there’s anything I like about my art. I’m kind of in a funk where I think everything I do just isn’t really that good. Which is dumb and not true! Because I know that I’ve been proud of things I’ve made. But yeah…I’m not sure. How I got into art was actually through my dad. He would always have canvases at his house and he would always encourage me to create stuff. So when I was younger and throughout like grade school I was really good, I was in advanced art classes and groups and in art shows and all that. But I kind of got out of it for a bit and just started up again in 2020. And I’m definitely more of a painter now, although I have been mainly drawing to try and get skill back

7. best season hands down is autumn. My favorite weather is stormy and cloudy, a little chilly so I can just wear a big sweater or hoodie and feel nice and cozy

8. Oop, I kind of answered the thunderstorm question. As for snow…..not really. I think it’s beautiful to look at and I love when it’s cold outside, but I don’t like being outside in it or driving in it

9. I have HELLA plants. Except they’re all fake 😎 I have probably around 20-30 in my room, I have an issue

10. It’s 9AM but I haven’t slept in like 36 hours so I don’t know what counts as today and what doesn’t….I have coffee currently and I have water!

Juno you are a lovely human and I am so grateful to have you in my inbox 💗

#cayjuno #asks #mushie lore #you guys learned a lot today #thank u juno srsly like #my brain hates me rn and this was a much needed distraction

[littlemisslipbalm]

“you make me so angry sometimes”

idk if this gif makes sense, but i feel like it will if you read the story, it just gives me that vibe. 

A one shot I cooked up idk, it’s about Harry and a makeup artist on DWD, it’s quite angsty, idk how that happened, it’s also very long, idk how that happened either, maybe i do a part 2, maybe i don’t idk lmk. Feedback is appreciated, not proofread. REBLOGS help writers tremendously and i love reading whatever you write in the tags its my favorite thing!! Love yall and Merry Christmas!

Word Count: 17.7k | Warnings: ENEMIES to LOVERS! swearing, angst!, some anxiety -like self-doubt, yn being mean to harry kind of a lot, i dont remember, nothing too crazy, Nick Kroll?, lots of conversation

-

When she pictured herself as a makeup artist in Los Angeles, she hadn’t pictured exactly what she was doing right now.

She had expected doing gorgeous makeup for gorgeous actresses or doing wildly fun stuff like in Euphoria. And because of that she had worked her ass off to get where she was today. She had practiced for hours, worked countless hours for free, and networked to the cows came fucking home.

So why the fuck was she using tattoo-strength concealer to cover up the maybe 60 tattoos some asshole musician turned actor had all over?

Don’t Worry Darling was her first major film to work on so she couldn’t complain. She was happy to simply be there. Well she had been. The first day she had showed up 15 minutes early and had worn her favorite power suit she had. It was dark navy with a white lace long sleeve turtleneck underneath. She hoped to look fun but professional.

Hollywood was all about impressions, especially first ones, even when you’re the makeup artist. She had quickly learned that she was one of six makeup artists. One of them being the friend who had helped her get the job, Angie. Angie was like her surrogate mother in Los Angeles that she had met on her first film job for something much less high profile than Olivia Wilde’s second directing project. Her braided grey hair and fabulous jeans had drawn Y/N right in and they had connected instantly.

Since Y/N was deemed the most inexperienced by the head of the makeup department, she was relegated to easier jobs: assisting the other artists on main characters sometimes, mostly dealing with minor characters touch ups (and full make-up if she was lucky), and the job nobody wanted: tattoo coverage.

Harry Styles was one of the leads for the film and besides his minimal acting, everyone knew he was a worldwide rockstar. With the rock and roll life starting off as a popstar life at the ripe age of 16, he had amassed around 60 tattoos in the past decade. Impressive by her standard normally. She usually counted herself as an appreciator of tattoos and their art, finding them similar to makeup and the self expression that came with both forms. Especially since she had a few of her own, but when she walked into Trailer #6 and saw a good amount of Harry’s tattoos, she wanted to murder every artist he’d ever been to.

She had to make an inventory the first day of all of his visible tattoos when he was just wearing boxers. He had been friendly, trying to make conversation, but as the time wore on, they both grew tired and silent. She had to write down the location and a description of every tattoo and as he took off everything but boxers she grew more and more annoyed with his random and dumb tattoos. Some of them were amazing, the eagle, the anchor, the butterfly, and the ferns were probably her favorites. But some of them, she couldn't hold back her rolling eyes and annoyed expressions. The “Big” on his right big toe, a miniscule lock, almost everything on his inner left arm (the packers logo, Pingu, etc.)

She traces at the rose and the ship and then flips his arm out to reveal his inner arm to her gaze. “That is a big fucking bee.”

He snickers, “Y’like it?”

She ignores his question. “For god’s sake, someone is needle happy,” she said as she examined his left arm, taking note of every permanent drawing.

He shrugs his right shoulder, uninhibited by her prodding. “Dunno, beginning to regret some of them.”

“I would hope,” she mutters, scribbling on her paper the various ones she had just seen on his arm. Next was his ribcage ones.

He scoffs, “Oi, it’s not like you haven’t got any.”

“How would you-” She looks at him wide eyed.

“Right…” he takes his right hand and pushes her hair past her ear to reveal three little red line butterflies following the curve of her ear, “There. At least.”

She huffs and knocks his hand away from her. Her hair falling back into its place.

“Maybe some located in a few more intimate places I’m guessing from the red rushing to your cheeks right now.”

“Can you just let me do my job,” she says, not giving in to his teasing or sparing him a glance as she feels his intense gaze on her face. She was studying his left rib cage where a few cool tattoos happened to be.

“You at least have some taste or persuasive artists because not all of these are shit,” she speaks again after just the sound of her pen on the paper filled the trailer.

“Gee, thanks,” he laughs unamused and rolls his large green eyes.

She thought he had some of the biggest eyes she’d ever seen. But she also knew to keep that to herself because he’d either take it as a compliment and think she was noticing him too much or he’d take it as a massive insult and get her fired.

His right hand taps at his thigh, tapping a rhythm she didn’t care to pay any attention too. She just wanted to finish the stupid inventory of the stupid tattoos on this stupid man.

“Take those off,” she says to Harry, looking back at her clipboard again, filling up quickly with her notes.

He stands there, staring at her stubbornly. He was entirely bored with this exercise, especially since his company was some of the worst he’s ever had. She spares him a glance when she doesn’t notice any slipping off of the colorful sweatpants he’s wearing.

She arches a brow at him, her pen tapping impatiently against the paper. “Go on. Can’t imagine you want this to go on longer than it already has.”

He rolls his eyes again, slipping his thumbs into the waistline of the pants and tugging down. Simultaneously, he toes off the dirty vans he seemed to wear everywhere. The fabric pools easily and he steps out of them and discards them on the couch behind him. He’s actually wearing black briefs. She chooses not to notice anything further than that.

“Socks...can stay on,” She tries to say as he begins to peel one off. He stops midway and nods.

She flings his shirt to him, not needing to see his naked torso for another moment, “I know you’ve got some feet and ankle tats, but I also know that you won’t be wearing anything that will expose them. Thank your lucky stars that I don’t have to makeup your feet.”

He catches the shirt easily and slips his arms inside before tugging it quickly over his head and over his expansive shoulders. The ferns disappear out of sight.

“Well then we’re almost done then. Just got the knee ones -”

“And the tiger. That’s gonna be one son of a bitch,” she sighs and examines his legs, not bothering to crouch.

“What the actual fuck dude?” Her tone is exasperate and like she would rather be anywhere else than here.

“I’m sorry?” He sputters, hands on his hips and eyes bewildered.

“Yes. No. Oui. Non. Who are you?” She rubs at her eyes and shakers her head.

“S’a little rude.”

“You’re right,” she semi-rushes out at his serious tone, ready to apologize. When a grin spreads over his face and he chuckles under his breath she really wants to smack him upside the head. He was exhausting. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thought it was funny at the time. Kind of think it’s even funnier now since it’s got you all mad.” He leans over her shoulder to look at her notes and when she glances at him unhappily he just looks smug.

“Alright,” she finishes the scribble of a description and clicks the end of her pen, “All done. You can get dressed. I’ll see you bright and early for tattoo makeup. It’s gonna take about an hour to do all this, just so you can mentally prepare for that.”

“It was nice to meet you,” he attempts at a friendly and professional farewell. “See you tomorrow…” he trails off as he watches her turn on her heel and walk out of the trailer door swiftly. The door swung shut and bounced a little bit in her wake.

Harry sighed and adjusted his clothes and hair in the mirror. After a moment he shakes his head, an even louder sigh escaping him.

-

“Good morning!” She greets happily, walking into the trailer without a knock. Well-rested and happy at least that she doesn’t have to just inspect a body, she looks around the trailer.

She realizes no one is there and she’s taken aback. First of all, if Harry wasn’t there then he shouldn’t have left his trailer unlocked. And second, he was fucking late, the fucking twat.

She grumbles, setting her coffee on the countertop. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “In through the nose, out through the mouth” she mutters. She knew this was a big opportunity and having a big star like Harry in her corner could make her career. She needed them to get off on a better foot today.

“Good form, I’d say relax the shoulders a little more,” the door swings open carrying the California twang-British accent that she would soon become all too accustomed to.

Harry points at her shoulders and narrows his eyes regarding her in the trailer. She offers a strained smile through the mirror and Harry sets down his personal things on the couch.  

“Alright, well let’s get started shall we,” she smiles and turns to him, gesturing to the swivel chair next to her.

He nods, a twinkle in his eye as he regards her. He’s unsure of the tone and attitude she’s giving him today. She had been feisty yesterday, cordial at times, but mostly biting and witty. He had liked it. It had made the whole ordeal bearable whereas now she seemed to be laying it on a little thick.

“Just your hands and neck today,” she says, pulling out the makeup materials needed and a checklist of the tattoos she needed to make sure were invisible.

“Should only take..a little under an hour today. Just gonna remind you now though, other days we won’t be so lucky.”

Harry chuckles under his breath and rolls his head around his shoulders before sitting in the chair. “Were you tired yesterday?” He inquires.

“Why do you ask?” She throws a glance over her shoulder at Harry. He’s begun slipping off his sweatshirt and yawns as he does it.

“You seem different from yesterday and I’m just wondering which one is the real you.”

She continues working about the room and rolls her eyes to herself, “I’m always the real me. I come no other way, but this morning I woke up and thought ‘this is the job you’ve fucking wanted for ages, so stop being such a bitch so you don’t get fired, you prick’.” She pauses and turns to face Harry. “The ‘you prick’ was directed at me, that was still part of my thought,” she adds.

He throws his head back and laughs. Then he nods, still laughing lightly, “I get that. Sometimes I’m just so in my head and yesterday I was just so fuckin’ bored. Sorry if I got on your nerves.”

“Don’t mention it.” She waves her hand at him nonchalantly.  

Then she moves to inspect his hands and notices the lack of rings, unlike yesterday when she had to make him take them off.

“You have amazing cuticles,” she notices and mentions without any pretences. Harry mutters his thanks, pursing his lips as he watches her work.

She stops her inspection and places the clipboard on the countertop in front of them.

“Could you take your necklaces off? I need to cover up half of the swallows and the years, for when you unbutton your shirt a bit.”

He wets his lips and nods, hands going to fiddle with the clasps behind his neck. He slips off one of the necklaces with ease, a yellow eye beaded necklace that he lays gently on the countertop next to the clipboard. Then he takes his cross and pulls it over his head, no clasp needed.

“Could I put some music on?” Harry asks after five minutes of Y/N working in silence and Harry only being able to stare either at himself, her work, or nowhere.

“I can,” she stops her work for a moment, “Can’t have you messing up the makeup before it sets. Otherwise I’d have to kill you.” Harry can’t be sure if she’s joking or not. Therefore, he was intent on not messing it up.

“Any requests?” She stands at the counter now, instead of seated on a stool working on Harry's left hand.

He shrugs, like he hasn’t got the faintest idea about good music. She refrains from rolling her eyes once again because she feels herself in a test. She wets her lips, sifting through different things in her Spotify and then lands on her playlist titled “it’s your song” named after Elton John’s song. It had some other musicians, a mix of Queen, Bowie, and more and she was sure she would pass the test.

She presses shuffle and She’s Always A Woman by Billy Joel begins to play over her laptop. Harry nods pleased and she wants to shake her head at him.

She can’t hold back the scoff though after a moment of going back to finishing his hand.

“What?” His British accent thickens with his annoyance growing.

“Nothing,” she chirps, intently putting the final touches on his wrist.

“Seriously. What?”

She stands and sets down the makeup. “Can you unbutton your shirt?” She made a note to herself that from now on she’d have to have him take his shirt off before setting to work because if his hands got messed up she’d have to start over. Thankfully he was already wearing a button up this morning.

He stares at her, offering no movement, just inquisitively waiting for her to respond to his original question.

She shuts her eyes, taking another deep breath and then bites at her lower lip. “It’s just...you’re so easy to read.” She fears adding anything else and moves towards him with the makeup hoping to encourage him to unbutton his shirt.  

His right hand deftly pulls at the buttons as he regards her. His eyes are intent on her, she can see him clearly calculating her. Her green paisley button up tucked up into the back of her bra leaving a splay of her stomach. The semi-balloon sleeves cinched at the wrists leading to her slightly ringed hands. The oversized blue jeans that have no holes, just a tiny patch right next to the left pocket. The frayed ends of the pants laying over her rather pristine white old skool vans.

The Boxer fades in as she waits for him to finish the unbuttoning of the shirt. He’s still staring at her.

“Am I?” He finally inquires, voice pitched higher like he doesn’t believe her.

She gives him a serious stare and leans over him and adjusts the collar of his shirt. She adds paper towels to avoid makeup on his clothes.  

“Yes!” She laughs, “And you don’t even think so, which is like...of course.”

He hums, tilting his head back as she sets to work on covering up the swallows. He wiggles his hands that now both rest on the arm chairs.

“I don’t see it.”

“Of course you don’t,” she glances at his face, their eyes meeting for a moment. “You’re Harry Styles. Everyone is in love with this image you created for yourself and it has just enough of your true self that people feel like they really know you, but you also maintain the illusion. So you think you’re this mysteriously amazing, not like the rest guy, but you are just like the rest of them. Obsessed with yourself and rich so you’re deemed eccentric rather than crazy for all the extravagant shit you do. So when you want me to play music and don’t offer any suggestions I know exactly what music I need to play for you to like me.”

“I feel like that last part says more about you than it does me,” he quirks a brow at her, straining his neck to look at her face as she continues to work.

She flushes, his response both better and worse than she expected. She had gotten a little carried away in her response and she had no idea why. She truly wasn’t one to go off on people so easily and especially not with someone she hardly knew, but something about Harry had her on edge. She was just thankful he hadn’t gotten mad at her response, instead he took it in stride. Further proving her point that he was extremely smart and did things purposefully and she saw right through it all.

She grumbles, “It says that all anyone has to do to get close to you is understand the smallest bit about you and you’ll let them in.”

“That is just so completely wrong, Y/N, I hate to break it to you.” It’s Harry rolling his eyes now, unable to move much more of his body as she continues painting on the concealer to remove his tattoos for the movie.

“Fine. Enlighten me on what I got wrong.”

Their argument had all but drowned out their music. They both did love this music and ironically if they would just shut their mouths, they’d probably like each other a lot more.

“Might as well,” he sighs. “First of all, my image is authentic and of course I don’t want to give myself all away. I enjoy my privacy and for everyone to truly know me I’d have to give that up. Which I’m not keen on. So, I regret to inform you but I am the same guy everyone is “in love with”. Second, I know I am a little self-involved, how else would I get here if I wasn’t constantly taking inventory of myself and reevaluating who I am. As a musician, I want to give as much of myself as possible or else it just feels inauthentic. And the extravagant thing, I can’t help that I like nice things and my job has allowed me to afford those things.”

He stops to take a deep breath and she’s working in stunned silence, in disbelief that Harry is even telling her any of this or that he’s spoken that much and so quickly. Wasn’t he notorious for speaking slowly with barely even a sentence worth of actual information. He sounds tired and frustrated, but also, surprisingly, sincere.

He continues, “The music thing. Maybe it was a test, but still it doesn’t mean I give everyone a mile when they say their favorite musicians match up with mine or something. I note that they either did their homework or might be an interesting person to get to know.”

“So which am I?” She widens her eyes.

“Obviously the second even if you’re also making it painfully clear that you don’t like me.”

“You’re smarter than I thought, Harry. I’ll give you that,” she smirks slyly, finishing up the bird coverage now.

He laughs. “Thanks,” he drawls out.

“And I admit that maybe you aren’t as easy to read as I made out, but I think we’re going to have to agree to disagree about the whole being your authentic self. I just don’t buy it. I can see your mind working constantly, you’re not one to just let yourself be free in public. And I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, I’m just saying, you shouldn’t pretend like that’s not what you’re doing.”

Her final thought leaves Harry silent. She pays no attention to his silence or at least she’s actively ignoring it. Instead she tunes back into the music that had gotten them back onto the wrong foot. This was going to be a long few months.

When she’s satisfied with her work, she has them sit there for thirty minutes to give it all time to set before Harry is off to hair and other makeup. They sit there listening to music. Neither of them have spoken again, except instructions from her and Harry’s hums of approval of songs.  

Harry stands up after thirty minutes as she stays behind to pack up some items. Just as he’s about to step out of the door, he turns and calls her name.

“For the record, I don’t think you’re giving me a fair shot. You said yourself that you’re different every day. That every version of you, is you. So I hope you’ll give me the same allowance, every version of me is me. In this trailer, in my music videos, on tv, in interviews, in my free time. It’s all truly me.”

She bites her inner cheek as he ducks his head and exits the trailer, not allowing her any response.

-

“You’re late!”

“Meeting ran over with Nick and Olivia. Sorry,” Harry says as he begins to undress.

It’s the first day she has to cover all of his tattoos. It was going to take forever by all accounts. It had been two weeks since shooting had begun and she had gotten the simple hands and neck down to 45 minutes so she could only dread what his entire body would take.

“It’s fine,” she grumbles, knowing there wasn’t really anything else she could say about him coming late from a meeting with the director and producer.

Over the last two weeks, they hadn’t grown any fonder of one another. Not at all. They at least had gotten into a system though and she was grateful for that at least.

They showed up, Harry got in his chair, she set up the music, and they got to work. Harry would practice lines on some days and he’d tell her that before she turned on the music so there were no interruptions. Sometimes they talked about stuff on set or music or she’d give Harry his line when he was trying to be off script and forgot one. She wouldn’t classify it as pleasant, but they weren’t at each other throats like they were originally.

Trailer 6 had gotten a little homier as the weeks went by, too. Harry began leaving some of his stuff there and he started putting up silly drawings he would make while on set or polaroids people had taken with him while he was there. He tacked up napkins of restaurants that catered the set and wrote funny jokes and quotes on post it notes. His personal assistants sometimes brought in snacks while Y/N was still working and Harry always offered her some. They were usually healthy, but sometimes she’d eat some. Jeff, his manager, had also stopped by on occasion during his tattoo touch-ups that had become a thing after shooting days had grown longer.

On first meeting, Jeff had said, “Y/N? Harry mentioned you.”

She had turned to Harry with an arched brow and he had shrugged. When she looked back at Jeff she didn’t see Harry give Jeff one of the deadliest looks he could muster. She had grimaced and said “Well we spend enough time together for him to know my name. So thank god for that at least.”

They had all laughed and she had gotten back to work on Harry’s wrist.

Today, she needed Harry in his shorts. It was the first day of shooting where his character would be only in his boxers so she had to cover up all his visible tattoos. Olivia had told the makeup department they actually had to cover up his feet tattoos as well. She wanted him sockless in the scene and Y/N had groaned immediately when she made it to the trailer and Harry wasn’t already there.

“But please, for the sake of my job, strip, dude.” She says, arms crossed over her chest and leaning against the counter as she watched Harry set his things down. Her soft green striped cardigan is open, exposing the white tank top sitting underneath. Her bright green shorts hang loose on her, cinched at the waist and folded over once. Her white high top nike’s tap impatiently on the floor, waiting for Harry to get moving.

He nodded, truly feeling sorry for his tardiness, knowing today was a long day. He was anxious and tired. Acting was a different experience to music and he just was really trying his best.

As he began to take off his shirt, he laughed. His arms pulled the shirt over his head and when it popped out from beneath it, he repeated, “Strip, dude,” attempting to mimic her American accent.

He had practiced his American accent in front of her while running lines, but it had a 50’s drawl to it. His acting coach had been drilling him for weeks before shooting and he still liked to practice. The accent he had just down was far off from that and far off from hers too.

“Do not,” she warned.

“What?” He asks innocently and flutters his eyelashes.

She knows his game by now and she knows she should just ignore him. She knows this after fourteen days. She knows this after hours with him. She knows this, but then she’s opening her mouth and playing into his teases.

“Sorry, what’s a word you would know? Mate?” She tries for a British accent with the last word, knowing she can’t win this.

Harry snickers and scratches at his nose with his index finger before starting on taking off his pants. “You’re so Californian.”

“Thank you,” she chirps, moving to sit beside him now that he had settled.

“I like your shorts,” he muses, crossing his legs, likely a little cold.

She glances down at her cotton shorts that showed more of her thighs when she sat for a moment before returning her gaze to his left arm. The longest task of the day was this damn arm.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, “Wanted to be comfortable today. Knew it was gonna be long.”

A smile bubbles onto his face, his pink lips parting to reveal his shiny white teeth behind them. “So true.”

The music is low today. She had chosen Joni Mitchel’s Blue album for the first pick of the day. She had quickly learned Harry preferred listening to albums in order. It tended to make him less jumpy when the same artist came on multiple times like an album. So when she tried to play just an album one day, she found him more cooperative and less irritable.

After thirty minutes of work, she can’t stop noticing how shivery Harry is. It was late October in LA, so it was still warm, but admittedly the mornings could be a little chilly. His shivering was concerning for many reasons. Mainly he was messing up her work and concentration, but she also didn’t want him to get sick or something.

“Do you want me to see if they have a blanket and slippers or something? You look like you’re turning blue.”

Harry turns his attention to her. He had been reading over the script for today again. “That’d be great. I can call…” He trails off trying to think of the name of one of his assistants, but apparently he’s too scatterbrained for it. She assumed it was the hypothermia traveling to his brain already.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll walkie someone.” She says as she grabs the walkie talkie, flicking to the personal assistants channel.

“Hey,” she chirps happily. Harry noted how she talked to other people. So sweet, yet sincere. With him, it was serious and sincere but more biting, callous at times. Less so lately, but she definitely was sharper with him. He didn’t know if it even bothered him anymore. She was engaging if nothing else.

“Is someone free to bring two blankets and men’s slippers over to Trailer 6? I’ve got a naked Jack and I don’t want him freezing before I’m done covering up his tattoos.” She takes her finger off the talking button and glances sideways at him, “Who knows, maybe that would improve his acting. Y’know on second-thought-”

“Alright, alright,” Harry tries to grab for the walkie talkie, but she turns from him holding a finger up signalling him to wait as she listens for a response.

Someone says a simple “On it” and she turns off the walkie talkie and gets back to work.

“I took my finger off the speaker before I said the thing about your acting. Relax, Harry.” She says when he’s still glaring at her. “Just love to see you squirm.”

He shakes out his short chestnut hair, some of it falling over his forehead. Instinctively, she reaches up without even looking and smooths it back. Like she was tucking her own hair out of her eyes, but instead it was Harry’s. She decided to say nothing and was relieved when Harry didn’t say anything either.

She finishes his forearm and moves to his outer upper arm. The rose holds her attention when the PA knocks on the door and she has to race to get it. Nothing could stop her from moving on this work. It was already an hour in and she wanted to scream.

She swings open the door and she wants to die. It was Autumn. Her least favorite PA, of course. She was insufferable and obsessed with Harry. Which was not why Y/N found Autumn insufferable. There were so many more reasons. So many. But that particular character flaw didn’t help her case either. Y/N tried to just take the blankets and slippers from Autumn, but the woman insisted that she come in.

“I’ve got it,” Y/N says.

“No, don’t want you to get makeup on anything,” Autumn’s saccharine voice grinds at her ears and she contemplates cutting them off.

Harry sat in his chair, legs crossed, nodding along to the music, his script discarded on the counter in front of him.

“Hi Harry!” Autumn practically yells, walking right up to him.

Y/N takes a deep breath at the door, letting it swing shut. She bites her lower lip as an attempt to bite her tongue as she walks back to her set-up. The set-up Autumn was conveniently blocking.

“Hello, Autumn,” Harry says kindly, making eye contact with her. “How’re you today?”

“So great! So great! Thanks for asking. How are you?” She points a finger at him like she might poke him and Harry squirms away from her a bit. She, of course, doesn’t notice this.

“Well, thanks.” His eyes flicker to Y/N, who is standing behind Autumn, hands on her hips and attempting not to tap her foot. His tone is clearly dismissive, but Autumn must ignore it. Y/N knows Autumn isn’t as helpless as she tries to come off.

Autumn asks, “Where do you want these?”, gesturing to the two blankets and slippers stacked on top.

“Just on the counter is fine, thanks,” Harry says.

Autumn does as he says and then stands there with baited breath. Y/N’s not sure what she’s expecting. For Harry to ask for her hand in marriage or something? But he just glances between the two women. His own foot begins wiggling in impatience.

“Busy day,” He attempts at dismissing her once again - with kindness.

“Oh my gosh, totally!” Autumn gushes, starting to go off on all of the tasks she has to do. She stands so close to Harry, Y/N genuinely thinks she’s going to sit in his lap. Y/N stares up to the ceiling, begging god or whoever to end her misery right there and then.

Harry sees Y/N’s expression and tries to maintain the neutral expression he’s had for the entirely too long interaction. A smile threatens at his rosey lips that had chapped from the morning air.

“Right, well,” he cuts off Autumn, “Y/N needs to get back to tattoo coverage, I think. So...have a nice day.”

Autumn’s eyes widen like she forgot that there was anyone else in the room and steps back from Harry. Y/N nods, a grimace clear on her face. Autumn gives her the same small she used to get from the popular girls in high school when she happened to be talking to their cool guy friend that they wanted to be more than friends with. Sickeningly sweet and completely fake. She could see the contempt in Autumn’s eyes that swirled just beneath the surface of her perfectly outlined green-ish eyes.

“Okay! You too, Harry!” She begins walking to the door and Y/N takes her seat again, closing her eyes and counting to ten. “And Y/N,” Autumn adds as an afterthought.

“Oh my fucking god,” Y/N sighs, her hands going to rub over her face and through her hair. “That was exhausting. Jesus Christ.”

“What? She’s nice. Maybe a little clueless,” Harry counters. “But she was so nice,” he confirms again, seemingly trying to convince himself of it as well.  

She grabs the slippers and slips them on the ground so Harry can put them on easily. Then one of the blankets that she drapes over Harry’s bottom half. He smiles at the gesture, a ‘thank you’ said in a whisper.

“Please, she knows what she’s doing,” Y/N scoffs, “And she’s obsessed with you!” She grabs the concealer to get back to work, “She was all over you and never took her eyes off of your body. It was like she wanted to touch you or something. It was icky.”

“You touch me,” Harry adds cheekily, adjusting beneath the warm blanket.

She laughs, a smile gracing her lips as she gives Harry a look. He was clever.

“It’s my job to touch you, Harry.”

Harry had really tried to not laugh, but it was just so funny. They both snicker, their eyes meeting for a moment longer than usual.

“Speaking of my job,” she adds after controlling her laughter, “Does she not realize just how long it takes to cover all of your bloody tattoos with this shit to make it look like you’re a pristine skinned 50’s psycho killer?”

She finishes the rose coverup and moves to the ship. Harry nods solemnly.

“It’s true...And it doesn’t help that you’re terrible at it, so it takes a thousand years longer than it should.” He adds, laughter overtaking his serious tone at the end.

“Oh my god!” She shrieks in delight, trying not to mess up her work, “That is so rude! I messed up one time - mostly because of you, by the way. And give me a break, this is so not what I thought I’d be doing as a makeup artist for movies.”

He nods again, muttering “Fair, fair.”

They grow silent, enjoying Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, the album that she had queued after Joni’s.

“The body thing, I just learned to ignore it, I think.” Harry mutters, eventually, but it’s thoughtless, like he’s not revealing anything about himself with the statement. But it kind of shocks her. Her eyes widen and she stops her work to stare at his face.

“Harry,” she waits till his eyes meet hers, “That’s, like, not normal. Are you serious?”

“I mean, I’m very comfortable with my body, like I haven’t minded the last 45 minutes of sitting practically nude in front of you. And I have plenty of revealing photos out in the world. I just don’t notice staring anymore, it’s not, I don’t think it’s what you’re thinking,” he tries to reassure her. His eyes are intent on hers, full of seriousness that hadn’t been there a few moments ago.

“It’s one thing to be comfortable in your skin and another to be desensitized to objectification,” she insists.

He nods. “I know. Thank you. I would let you know if what she had done had bothered me, so don’t worry. I felt completely safe the whole time.”

“Good,” she nods back and concentrates again. “Good,” she repeats once more under her breath. There had been way too many distractions already today and she wasn’t even done with his arm yet.

As she continues to work up his arm, Harry sings along to some of the songs on Elton’s album. He happily taps his feet to the different beats, now safely tucked in soft fluffy slippers. She would never admit just how amazing it is to be in the same room as Harry’s singing. It was truly special to be less than a foot from him and hear him sing just under the unique voice of Elton - who was someone he actually knew, which was equally as cool.

He hit every note and knew every word. She was impressed. How could she not be when a literal rockstar sat before her? This was the first time she was truly starstruck by her charge, Mr. Harry Styles.

By two hours, they had moved onto an album by Dolly Parton and they were both singing. They strangely had no fights today, maybe some snarky comments from both of them, but no outright mean-spirited words were exchanged.

She stood in front of Harry, finishing up the swallows. She had finished both arms and the birds, all she had left was moving down his body. Up next, the butterfly.

“I love this tattoo,” she mumbles, twisting Harry’s standing body to face her and taking her seat again. This left her eye to eye with the butterfly on his stomach.

He makes a surprised face and raises his recently plucked eyebrow at his counterpart. “Oh really?”

“Don’t act so surprised. I told you day one that not all of them are rubbish and honestly they’re all pretty cool. I just was so annoyed that I had gotten tattoo coverage as my job and then I had to go and index them all.” She flicks her eyes up to his sculpted face and sees he’s watching her work. “Plus, I have some butterflies of my own, remember?” She grins.

“Yeah,” he ponders her words, “I don’t think that’d put me in a good mood either.”

He pauses again and she continues to work silently.

“So what’s your excuse for the second day then?”

“You provoked me,” she doesn’t spare him a glance, shrugging like it was the simplest answer in the world.

“Pardon?”

“Let’s not go down this road again, Harry.” She sighs, smoothing over the freshly covered butterfly tattoo. His sternum looked so naked, it was unnerving. Now the ferns.

Harry involuntarily shivered when her fingers traced over the ferns lightly, taking note of the expanse of skin she’d have to cover.

“You’re right,” he agrees, “But agree to disagree on the provocation.”

“Sure,” she says curtly, focusing on his skin and her job.

The expanse of skin that the ferns inhabited was slightly fleshy and especially soft. It bordered where his boxers began and she ignored that part of his body completely. It was of no importance to her and she really had no issue blocking it from her vision, even when it was right in front of her. She finishes one fern with Harry jumping only twice from her cold hands. He couldn’t put his robe on until the makeup had all set for half an hour so he’d have to be cold for possibly another hour still.

She traces the fern that is still visible and Harry shivers. She instinctively shushes him softly and his body quiets. As she works, her hair splays around her shoulders and Harry looks down at her working and doesn’t realize what his hand is doing until it’s too late. His right hand runs over her hair, smoothing it out of her face. It was rarely ever down, so it must have been the novelty of it.

“Sorry, I-” he chokes out when he jerks his hand back.

She sits back, slightly taken aback. Her body flushes just from their positioning and what a hair caress would mean normally in this position, but she’s a professional and she shakes it off.

“It’s fine. We’re even.” She assures him, breaking eye contact with his own wide eyes. “Seems like we’re both hair touchers.”

“It’s just so soothing,” Harry muses. “I think it’s human instinct to touch other people’s hair since it’s so enjoyable for yourself.”

“Possibly,” her voice raises, his thought was definitely plausible. Or maybe they were just two touch starved people who were very much in each other’s personal space 24/7.

At the two and a half hour marker, she gets a walkie message from Olivia’s assistant asking when they’d be done. She had just finished the tiger tattoo, which had been surprisingly easy. It took a while, but Harry didn’t shiver once and neither of them pet each other’s hair.

“Probably 40 minutes, sorry. He has a lot of tattoos and the makeup needs to set.” She says seriously and gets back to work, barely regarding the response of “Yeah it’s fine, just wanted an estimate”.

“Jesus,” Harry moans as she covers up his knee tattoos.

She groans in veiled disgust, “Did I just hit a secret erogenous zone? Is that why you have ‘oui’ there, you creep?” There’s a teasing tone behind the nickname she uses.

Harry laughs and runs his hand over his face, pulling at his jaw and lower lip. His jaw is so sharp, she watches him adjust it. “No, no. I’m just so goddamn tired of this.”

“And it’s not your fault,” he adds, feeling bad immediately after he said it. “It’s actually been nice today, but I’m feeling antsy, like I need to move. I don’t like to sit still.”

“I know,” she says under her breath. She simply nods in agreement.

Finally, the tattoos are all covered up and set. They had talked about George Michael when she got to his ankle tattoos that she hadn’t seen before and they laugh about the tattoos and chat a bit more. She helps him slip on his robe that he keeps in his closet in the trailer and then follows him out of it. They had decided they were hungry and he had been pushed back an hour since he had taken so long, so he had a free half-hour.

As they walked to craft services, they talked about actual things besides work. She was pleasantly surprised by what Harry talked about. It was more than music or the movie. It was the tv show he was currently obsessed with and how he hated LA’s traffic the most out of all of his dislikes for the city. She couldn’t help but grin at his Los Angeles slander. She loved this side of him.

-

Breakfast together after finishing his tattoo coverage became their regular thing. He would come into the trailer, racing from his morning meeting accompanied with tea for two, they’d get his tattoos covered as quickly as possible, and then they’d eat together.

They’d save their “in-depth” chats for breakfast. In early November, he joked about No Nut November and insisted he really wouldn’t have a problem with it - which had made her laugh. They worried together over the U.S. presidential election and meditated together in his trailer to Fleetwood Mac.

Around late November, Harry had requested that Y/N just do his face makeup as well, just to simplify his life a little more and the department had agreed easily. She had to spend extra time on set getting lectured on how to properly do Harry’s makeup, but after two days she stopped getting notes about it. She was so extremely proud and thankful to Harry for doing that.

All he said was: “I mean, you’re extremely talented so I’m not scared of you fucking up my face. Plus, it does make my life easier. Two birds with one stone.”

In late November, he told her about his favorite holiday drinks at Starbucks and what he was getting his mother for Christmas.

When the Vogue cover came out, he laughed over that woman who responded to his cover saying the world needed to bring back manly men. He joked that he was going to really push that from now on, that he was a manly man, and he would sputter with laughter every time he tried to say it with a straight face.

He hand delivered her a special ‘Treat People With Kindness’ sweatshirt that he only had for the cast and crew of the film. Most everyone got them from a PA, but Harry decided since you saw him first in the morning, why not.

He told her about him winning Hitmaker of the Year from Variety when he had left the award sitting in Trailer 6 and about how weird it was to film acceptance speeches in an empty room. His smile had lit up the entire set that day and the day he did his interview on set. He was so smiley she had to bump him with her elbow because he wouldn’t stop smiling at her and it was unnerving.

“Stop that,” She muttered.

“Stop what?” He smiles wider.

“That!” She squeaked, her head shaking as she ducked it to regard his anchor tattoo. “You’re smiling too much.”

“Oh no,” he says sarcastically, “God forbid I be happy.”

“It’s not that,” she bumps his thigh with her elbow, trying to keep her own smile off her face, “Your face is just so intense when you smile. Feels like you’re gonna burn a hole through me.”

He laughs, completely unconvinced, “You just don’t want me to be happy is what I’m hearing.”

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever, dude.”

She saw he was serious about the ‘manly men’ references when the Variety photos came out and everyone and their mom posted the pictures with some variation of that comment as their caption.

She still found that she rolled her eyes at some of the things Harry did, but she genuinely counted him as a friend by the time December had rolled around.

Over three hours, almost always completely alone, doing work for a job you both care deeply about can really make or break a relationship. And that first full-body coverage day had made them stronger together. After that, Harry and her would banter with one another, but there was never anything intentionally cruel. Just friends giving each other shit sometimes. Harry had been right, he had changed her mind about him. And she had realized that that was who Harry was. He was a deliverer. If you didn’t like him at first, he would try and try again until you did, but he did it in a way that wasn’t weasley or anything. It was terribly genuine and she saw it in every relationship he had on set.

On several occasions she had witnessed his friendship with Nick Kroll. A man she had regarded with dislike before the film. She had quickly realized that dislike was misplaced, but she maintained that it was just because she hated adult cartoons - citing that she literally refused to be friends with any person who willingly watched the Simpsons, Family Guy, and/or American Dad and all of those similar shows.

Nick was far nicer and less weird than she had realized. So she quickly shot her friend from high school an apology text for all the Nick Kroll slander she had spouted back in the day. Her friend had rejoiced but also said how jealous she was that Y/N got to see him regularly on set.

Nick and Harry got along great. Harry generally got along better with older people, she noticed when she was introduced to his friends on the somewhat frequent occasion. Trailer 6 was where Y/N saw most of these reactions take place. She would be introduced in the first minute and then she would smile politely and get back to the work of covering up Harry’s numerous tattoos.

Harry would say something simple and Nick, the literal famous comedian, would laugh. In the beginning she’d raise a brow, confused because it truly wasn’t that funny, but as Harry’s friend now, she kept her mouth shut.

Nick would come and sit on the couch while she’d work and eventually all three of them would chat. Sometimes she would get up to go to the bathroom during those morning chats and she would look in the mirror and think to herself “How are you casually talking to these two men right now” and then she’d think “Because you are a boss ass bitch, you got this” and go back out there with a smile on her face.

“Y/N, what are you doing tonight?” Nick asked on the first Friday morning of December.

She looks up from Harry’s cross tattoo that was half covered. Harry was reading, a book casually propped in his right hand and glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He glanced at the other two in the room. Nick had been getting some work done before he had spoken.

“No plans,” she states simply before getting back to work. It wasn’t full body today, but it was arms and torso, so kind of a lot still.

“You should come over for dinner at my place with Harry,” Nick smiles kindly. His scruff was really coming in today. “To celebrate us almost wrapping the first half of the movie.”

Harry had thankfully freshly shaved before he sat down. It was her least favorite part of her new job. Whenever he came in for touch ups and she had to shave his afternoon shadow. She was terrified she’d cut him and never live it down from her department or Harry. She had no idea which would be worse.

“My wife will be there too, of course,” he adds, hoping to entice her to say yes.

Harry glances between Y/N and Nick again before focusing on his book again.

She purses her lips, finishing Harry’s hand and moving onto the anchor tattoo. “Yeah, I mean, I don’t know why I’d say no. As long as I’m not intruding on the throuple,” she grins up at Harry.

He stares at her with his big green eyes, slightly obscured behind his prescription glasses. He raises his brows and wiggles them a little bit, teasingly.

Nick laughs and slyly winks at Harry through the mirror. Y/N none the wiser as she removes all traces of Harry’s tattoos.

“Great!” He claps his hands and stands up. “We’ll talk or I’ll make sure Harry gets you the info or something. I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out. My wife’s been wanting to meet you,” he smiles again and walks out of the trailer.

She tilts her head at the last part. He talked about her to his wife. Did he really count her as that close of a friend? She was just a makeup artist and he was a producer… She glances at Harry and he gives away nothing. His jaw looks extra prominent and she knows it’s because he’s clenching it. He did that when he was focused or angry, remembering it bulging on the first day they met and how clenched it had been then.

“Unclench your jaw,” she mutters, “It’s not good for you.”

Harry hums and unclenches it.

He stretches his neck by rolling his head around his shoulders and she glances at the movement. His skin is still beautifully sun-kissed and his pores look so soft, only his moles change the texture of his skin. She loves his moles though, they make him especially unique in her eyes. Not that he needed anything else to set him apart from the crowd. Still, she loved them. His collarbone is prominent as he sits there shirtless and she wishes she could reach out and brush at it. But she gets back to work, knowing the only time she’s gonna be brushing near that part of him is when she’s covering dates in those dips behind his collarbones.

“Y’know, I could just drive you to Nick’s tonight,” Harry says, putting his book down and taking off his glasses. He rubs at his eye with his free hand.

“You’re blind and British, how do I know you can even drive yourself?” She asks sillily, pointing to his glasses.

He shakes his head, “I’m serious, Y/N. Aren’t you staying in the same area as me?”

He asks because they had relocated to Palm Springs a little while ago and everyone had gotten rentals and it was hard to remember where everyone was holed up when they weren’t on set.

“Yeah, think so. But you don’t need to pick me up. I have a car.”

“Nonsense. I’ve been to his place before, don’t want you to have to deal with directions, that’s just silly.”

“I guess...” she resigns relatively easily. She had never hung out with Harry off the set or Nick for that matter. It felt surreal, but she knew the right answer was usually just say yes in these situations. So that’s what she says. “Yes, that’d be great, thank you,” she confirms and watches as Harry’s eyes glimmer softly before turning back to his book. A triumphant soft smirk rests on his face.

The words die out between the two of them as she works on. He hums along to the music and continues reading his book. When she’s done with his tattoo coverage and his face makeup, she sends him off to hair and the rest of his day. He gives a flirty wink as he walks out the door and she rolls her eyes in response. She tidies up her kit and then goes to do some other makeup work.

When she wasn’t working with Harry, she was assigned to some of the minor characters and doing their makeup. They were always her second concern, especially now that she did Harry’s makeup as well as his tattoos. As she works on them, she can feel her mind drifting to Harry. Harry and how they were friends now. She was pretty sure, right? They were friends. He had never really said a mean thing to her if she really thought about it. It was her… She had been rude and mean-spirited and he had just taken it. He rarely had even thrown it back at her. He was so good to her and patient and she realized that he had proven to her that he was good. He was better than good, he was kind and loving. Considerate. Wonderful. All of those positive superlatives, Harry filled them. And she had the audacity to be mean to him.

She paused the brush that was adding blush to an actresses cheek.

Lisa, the actress, looks at Y/N confusedly, “What’s wrong?”

Y/N twitches her head, refocusing on her task at hand. The realization of her pausing her work becomes clear as she looks between her hand and the cheek that has not enough blush on it. “Oh,” she breathes. “...I just realized that I was terrible to someone who doesn’t have a mean bone in their body.”

Lisa nods, “Apologize.”

“Yeah, I mean...We’ve kind of moved past the phase where we don’t get along. Like now we’re friends, but the realization just really hit me.” She sighs, picking up where she left off on Lisa’s makeup. “I’ll make sure to apologize next time I see them.”

Lisa smiles.

-

At the end of the day, Y/N realizes she left her tattoo coverage kit in Harry’s room after their touch-up session halfway through the day. She had run off to help with a makeup emergency for a tiny cut on a minor character’s face and forgotten to go back and grab her things. Another roll of her eyes and a huff of breath and then she’s walking back to Trailer 6, a place that seemed like a home away from home now. She knocks, patiently waiting at the bottom of the steps.

Harry swings open the door and props it with his hip. He’s got a toothbrush held in his mouth, slowly scrubbing back and forth with his left hand. His costume is somewhat taken off, he’s still got the pants on with suspenders hanging down, his chest was completely bare and he looked funny with some of his tattoos only being half covered based on what parts of his skin had been showing today. Her work. His skin looked half silky smooth and half tattooed like usual.

His naked skin seemingly left her breathless because as her eyes returned to Harry’s face, she breathed a soft, “Hi.”

“Hey,” a smirk twists onto his face. “Forget something?”

“Yes,” she nods, coming back to her senses and entering the trailer at Harry’s gesture.

She begins to pack up the kit that had been left haphazardly strewn around on his counter. “I’m sorry I left a mess like this, I got called over to something else and forgot.”

“Don’t worry darling,” Harry grins at his joke.

She looks up from her work and sees Harry in the reflection of the mirror. He’s wiping off the makeup from his chest and his beautiful tattoos reemerge as entire images.

She laughs humorlessly, “It gets less funny each time you use that.”

“That’s not true,” he looks at her through the mirror now, his green eyes trained on her face, “Everyone else still thinks it’s hilarious.”

“They’re humoring you and your fragile ego,” she winks and watches as Harry’s smirk twitches from his perfect face.

“You’ve got a very mean disposition, you know that?” He asks.

He finishes his chest and moves to remove the makeup from his left arm, glancing at the mirror every so often to check himself and to flicker his eyes over Y/N’s face.

She genuinely laughs at that, but scolds herself internally for being mean when she had planned to apologize the next time she saw Harry. This was the next time so why was she doing this instead?

“Rewrite sweet disposition for me?” Her voice honeyed. Clearly stubborn and terrible at saying sorry...maybe her and Harry were a better match than she realized.

Harry twists his lips as he slips on his t-shirt he was wearing today.

“Pick you up at 6:30?” He says as his head pops out from beneath the rainbow striped sweatshirt he slipped on top of the shirt. His chestnut hair had been toweled out and was flopping over his forehead slightly.

She sighs and zips close the kit, standing from the seat she had taken at his counter and turning to face him now.

“6:30 is perfect. Thanks again for doing this. I just can’t believe Nick Kroll is inviting me over for dinner!” She smiles, shifting to lean against the counter as she waits for Harry to finish up. She didn’t have to but for some reason she felt like she was in no rush.

“Are you serious?” He’s moved on to changing his pants now and he’s slipping on black sweatpants.

“Yeah…” She blinks and her eyes widen as Harry appraises her expression.

He straightens up after fixing a cuff on the pants and he can’t tell if she’s being genuine or sarcastic. It was always so hard to tell with her.

“I mean, Nick Kroll is like a huge celebrity and I know in the entertainment business you’re not supposed to get starstruck but when I was in college my sister thought he was weirdly hot and my friends and I would shit talk him. I don’t know, it’s just kind of surreal to be having dinner at his place. Like I’ve watched him on tv and now I’ll be eating with him...so weird.”

He shakes his head, beginning on his dirty vans now. A small laugh escapes his mouth and he glances between her and his shoe, scratching his head quickly. “I still can’t tell… It feels like you’re fucking with me right now.”

“I’m not!” She insists, her hands coming out in front of her in a confused fashion. “I used to watch that guy’s tv show then he’s my boss now he’s inviting me over for food? It’s a lot to process.”

“How come it’s not surreal to be having dinner with me then?” He asks semi-joking, a hint of offense tinged within it. It’s visible only in his knitted brow and twisted lip.

“Careful there, sailor. Venturing into some dangerously self-absorbed waters.” Her eyes light up, a quick raise of her brows accompany the shine, and she decides now is her time to head out. Especially as she thinks about getting ready for this soiree tonight. She needed to shower and pick out an outfit with less than two hours to prepare.

Harry sputters at her response and fumbles with his pink shoelace. “That’s not...that is - You’re being unfair. My question is valid.”

She shrugs her shoulders and skirts Harry’s attempt at grabbing at her arm to stop her from leaving. “Okay, Mr. Big Man On Campus. I promise you you’re the most popular boy in school.”

She blows him a kiss and walks out the door as he attempts to get her to come back by calling her name a few times and slightly shouting “C’mon! I wasn’t being insecure. That was a reasonable ask…”

He sighs and shakes his head again. Every interaction would end with one of them either rolling their eyes or shaking their head and usually a sigh on both of their lips. It was exhausting, but exhilarating too.

20 minutes later, Harry receives a text from Y/N: “You’re still picking me up right :))) ?”

He’s in his car, getting ready to finally leave after getting held up with last minute schedule changes that he had to be informed about by some PA that he had forgotten the name of. His lip quirks to the right and he closes his eyes for a second enjoying seeing her name on his phone screen for a moment.

He types back: “Of courseeee”.

“Fab.” She sends back, immediately followed by: “Fanks BMOC ;)”

A full smile rolls onto Harry’s face after he swipes his tongue over his lower lip. “Yeah, yeah, save it for the next guy” he types out quickly before throwing his phone gently beside him and driving back to his apartment. She made him feel young, not that he wasn’t young, but generally his friends didn’t text like she did.

-

At 6:28, she receives a text from Harry Styles - his name in her phone. A name she had never expected to see in her phone unless her Spotify was on shuffle. Yet, instead, his name popped up under messages and it read “Here!” followed by a quick “I think” and then a phone call coming through from the apparently anxious man himself.

“Hello Harry.” Her tone even. She throws little items into her purse, making sure everything she needs is there.

“Could you peek out your window? I’m not quite sure I’m at the right place and people are staring…” nerves laced in his rushed tone.

She ambles to the window and opens up the shade she had closed to change. Below her, she sees a sleek black Range Rover with a slightly disarrayed hairdo and big dark glasses peeking below the windshield. She ignored the instinct to retch at the sight of the Range Rover and peered at the lamp lit sight below her. It was definitely Harry, but she searched for the prying eyes he was worried about and saw none. Well, maybe a few, but it wasn’t a lot.

“I see you, I’ll be right out, dude. Just deep breaths, it’s mostly crew staying here right now so they’re just seeing that it’s you, another guy they work with. They won’t come up for pictures...I would hope.”

She hangs up with no farewell, snatches her purse from its place on the bed and races out the door. Harry smiles anxiously at her when she stands next to the passenger’s door and he unlocks it. She bites her lip and raises her brows, waiting to hear if anything terrible happened in the minute and a half it took her to come downstairs and out to the car.

“Hi,” he exhales.

A smirk crawls onto her features and her eyes sparkle with a bit of a childish glee that normally she didn’t exhibit as she glances at him. “Hi.” She says quietly. “Alright big boy?”

“‘M fine.” He huffs but balks at her smile that she maintains while she stares at him. “What?”

“Just happy to see you, I guess,” her smile returns after speaking and Harry glances between her face and the windshield in front of him.

He can’t tell if she’s being serious or not once again. But he fears that conversation of her either ridiculing him for thinking she is serious or being offended that he still can’t tell. Instead, he will keep his mouth shut. For the most part.

“Happy to see you, too,” his lips create a closed mouth smile quickly before turning out of the parking lot.

She watches him. Their first time together outside of work. And they were friends. She needed to get used to simply thinking that. He picked her up to take her to dinner with her other friend and his wife. This was normal life, just with big names behind those terms of relation. Jesus, she always said it didn’t bother her to be around celebrities so why did she think about it so damn much?

She twitches her head and refocuses on Harry and his driving. His jaw is clenched again and she wants to reach out and sooth it herself. Instead she starts to open her mouth to correct him, but stops herself from that as well. They weren’t at work and it didn’t feel like something just a friend would say right now. She refocuses on the view of his eyes that are barely visible while he regards the road. His large eyes that she had grown acquainted to are surveying what he’s doing, every so often drifting to the right side of the road to check out the lane beside him. But then, always back to right in front of him, leaving a crescent of green visible to her.

“Can feel you staring at me…” His voice sounds like it’s rolled around in gravel after the long work day. It makes her wonder if he’s supposed to have a vocal rest when he’s not at work, but then again it’s the weekend now so maybe it was fine. Maybe she should ask him. Or maybe she should stop worrying so much about him.

“Have I got something on my face?” His low register bumps her from her racing thoughts. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but she can see he’s widened his eyes in wonder.

“No! Of course not, I just was...making sure you weren’t going to crash us or something.” She grasps at straws, desperate to not be caught by Harry.

A low chuckle bubbles from his chest and he spares a small glance over at her bundled up in his passenger seat. She matches his gaze with something of distrust hidden behind her eyes. She hopes to convey that she’s being silly and when Harry turns back to look at the road unassumingly, she feels like she has won. The harmonies of the beginning of a Queen song take over the silence, Harry’s spindly fingers thrumming against the wheel.

They arrive at the Kroll’s Palm Springs residence at 6:50. 10 minutes early and the two twiddle their thumbs for a few minutes, trying to pass the time and not intrude earlier than they were supposed to. She appreciated that Harry liked to be timely but not early, similar to how she was.

“So what is the fascination with Range Rovers?” She queries, leaning against the door’s armrest. The back of her head touches against the semi-tinted window.

Harry shifts in his seat, seat belt no longer constricting him and no road requiring his attention as they sit in the driveway. He rushes a hand through his hair and lets a single strand of hair fall over his prominent forehead.

“Dunno,” he shrugs his shoulders and allows a hand to fall onto the steering wheel absentmindedly. “I don’t really prefer them anymore, but when I’m in LA and doing work, it makes things easier. My other cars are a little flashier...have more privacy in this.”

“Yet the effect is similar,” she muses.

Her head tilts to take in Harry’s appearance, sharp black silky button-up and dark green plaid slacks, and she rubs a hand over her jaw. His eyes flicker to the movement and attempt to really take it in, even in the dim glow of the lamp light outside barely peeking into the dark interior of the car.

“Effect?”

“Y’know…” She arches her brow at him. He feigns innocence or possibly the expression is genuine. She’s begun to realize Harry was as genuine as they came, but she just didn’t think he was that unaware. An assumption that was likely correct, but even Harry liked to pretend he was a completely unassuming individual.

“Forget it,” she finishes when he gives no indication that he knows what she is hinting at. She doesn’t want to get into it with him again. Especially when he plays at this game where he has no idea what she’s talking about. It made her feel like she was crazy for thinking he made these calculated decisions to get his desired outcomes.

They move on, neither of them quite sure what the other was getting at in that conversation. The two of them walk into the house a minute before their expected arrival time side by side and are greeted happily with Nick and his wife. They’re ushered in and Y/N is happily received by the happy couple.  

“So, Y/N, how’s it been for you working with these two? I know they can be more than a handful - especially together,” Nick’s wife, Lily, asks after a sip of wine.

The group of four had been eating for a while with Nick and Harry bantering for quite a bit at the beginning about whether or not Harry would be willing to hand feed Nick. The answer was settled at “another time”.  

Harry seems to have a very specific habit of watching whoever is speaking - no matter what. So after Lily has finished speaking, his gaze flickers to Y/N, the person his brain expects to speak next. He watches her attentively as she wipes her mouth on her napkin before speaking.

Her hair was styled differently tonight than it usually was on set, she had it down rather than up in a ponytail or braids. He hadn’t had time to really look at her when they had been in the car, his mind occupied with stress and exhaustion that he refocused into driving and deep breathing. Now, in the comfort of a trusted friend’s home, he was far more relaxed and able to truly take in her appearance, which he couldn’t help but think was beautiful. He’d have to tell her that at some point. That he thought she was beautiful. Not that he didn’t see her on set and think she was beautiful...he just hadn’t really thought about it before. She was his wily makeup artist who was critical of him most times, but occasionally sweet, who had an amazing taste in music and good aesthetic style. The beauty part of it all, he guessed wasn’t something integral to their relationship before.

But now he was sitting beside her at the Kroll’s nice dining table and she had her hair splayed in front and behind her shoulders with one side tucked behind her ear and her outfit fit her impeccably. The top she had on had capped sleeves that cinched with buttons at her delicate wrists and a severe drop to create a small sweetheart neckline just above the curve of her breasts. It was silky and shiny, a blush pink that complemented the high waisted dark grey slacks that flared over shiny black boots that he wasn’t sure where they ended beneath the pants.

“Well,” she starts, chuckling under her breath when she meets Harry’s stare, “Harry and I spend a lot of time together, covering up all his tattoos, and he yaps a lot. So, it’s actually pretty refreshing when Nick comes in, because Harry’s then talking half the normal amount.”

He huffs a scoff, while Lily and Nick laugh happily. Nick interjects an “ouch” for the bite she just took out of Harry, but she thought it was fine, he can take it.

Harry thought to himself that if she can serve it, then she can definitely take it. His eyes remain on her as he opens his mouth to speak, but then look at Lily when words actually come out. “Well, Y/N, she thinks she can read people really well, but it’s actually quite the opposite. She had me completely wrong when we first met, so I talk now in hopes that she’ll really understand me.”

His head tilts to her when he mentions her name, but otherwise doesn’t glance her way away again. He scrunches his nose at the end of his comment, implying he converses with her out of pity.

It’s her turn to scoff and stare at him unamused. Nick and Lily share a look, unsure of what was going on, they had concocted this dinner date idea in hopes to set the two up but the way this conversation was going, they seemed to be pushing each other further and further away from one another.

“That’s simply not true,” she says curtly and takes a sip of her quickly emptying wine glass.

“Which part?”

“Almost all of it, I’d say,” her eyes glaring back at him, fiery with a disdain he hadn’t seen in awhile. “You’re proving my original perception of you with every passing second,” she adds.

“Care to elaborate exactly what the original perception of me was for the class,” his eyes are wide and wild, any extra adoration he had started to feel towards her slipping away just as quickly as it had come, like a wave along the beach.

“You know, so why don’t you?”

“I want to hear you say it,” he grits out the command.

She shifts in her seat, glancing at Nick and Lily who are watching on and she has a feeling she won’t be getting an invitation again anytime soon. Lily gives her a semi-reassuring smile like she was sorry to have asked the question at all, but Y/N knows this is kind of her fault, not that she would ever admit that. Her comment could have been taken innocuously, but Harry’s pride wouldn’t let it slide. Like she said, she should have known better, the weeks of friendship were flying out the window and she was helping them along.

“And what if I don’t?”

“Have fun calling an uber at this time of night,” he shrugs, malice dripping in his tone.

She truly was taken aback at this. A slight sound of shock leaving her mouth. Harry was many things, impatient and anxious usually, but downright cruel with her, she had yet to see it. Arrogant and pompous, definitely, but this wickedness that was starting to creep from the shadows worried her. But the little fiery demon within her wasn’t going anywhere either - yet she might back down to save herself some money and hassle.

“Fine,” she raises her brows in a challenge to him and restates her original take on him - possibly adding a bit extra malice in her phrasing, “You are a shell of a man, held up by the people around you, creating the illusion of a completely genuine and down to earth rocker who dabbles in acting, philanthropy and all around goodness. No one’s ever had a bad experience because no one’s ever truly met you. Not the real you.” She takes a deep breath as she shakes her head in disbelief now, a sarcastic laugh leaving her mouth, “And I thought, I really thought, that I had been wrong. Because these past months you really fooled me with your sweet smile and deep eyes. But when it comes down to it, you tricked me just like everyone else.”

Harry stares at her blankly and she shakes her head once more, feeling foolish. For thinking Harry was someone he wasn’t. For thinking the past few months had been real. For thinking that tonight would go off without a hitch. And the shit part of it was that she had really hoped that all of it was true. She wanted this to be her life, but her instincts had been right. Beware of the picture perfect because it always is just a mirage of deceit and lies.

“All I’ve got to say is you’re a damn good actor Harry, so at least you’ve got that going for you.” Then she pushes back from the table and stands, turning to Nick and Lily. “I really am so sorry, I understand that you probably want me to leave, so I’ll just be going,” her voice faltering at the end, she wasn’t as strong as she liked to pretend and she was pretty sure she just ruined her chances of working again in Hollywood. You’d have to be an idiot to be an enemy of Harry Styles and she feels like she just became his first.

“No!” Nick says quickly, standing too, “I think things just escalated really quickly and some things were said that both of you didn’t mean. Um...just, let’s take a few minutes to cool off. Harry could you and Lily deal with the dishes and I’m going to talk with Y/N alone.”

Everyone nods and Y/N follows Nick down a hallway, a little confused but following after he beckons her with his hand. They go out a side door and end up on a porch in the backyard. He stoops down and opens a little sitting mailbox she didn’t see and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He places one between his teeth and then offers one to her. She accepts, not usually a regular smoker, but right now seemed like a fair time to indulge in the bad habit. She needed to calm her rapidly beating heart.

He lights the cigarette for her when he sees her shaking hands and then in turn lights his own. They stand on the porch beside each other and stare out into the dark night sky.

“Well, this wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go,” Nick starts, after a few exhales of smoke.

“No,” she laughs nervously, her foot toeing at the wooden slate on the porch. “I shouldn’t have tried to make a joke.”

“No one’s to blame,” Nick says quickly, glancing at her, “You and Harry...you both have really strong personalities and I don’t think either of you are used to being challenged.”

She nods along, she definitely had to agree after the argument they had both willingly gotten into in front of other people.

“I think that can be a really good thing, challenging each other, because then you two can both grow. But what happened in there was more of a battle to the death rather than a friendly spar.”

“Yeah,” she exhales, flicking at the burning cigarette between her fingers, “I don’t know why he gets under my skin sometimes in a way I’ve never dealt with and it’s kind of uncomfortable so I lash out, I guess.”

Nick stays quiet, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Ugh,” she groans, “I wish I hadn’t done that. We were doing so well, it’s like I don’t even really know what I’m saying, it’s like I can’t handle a friendly spar, I always end up going in for the kill - as you put it.”

She rubs at her face with her free hand and then takes a drag herself. Nick bites at his lower lip, trying to think of a solution.

“Y’know? Lily and I had concocted this plan to try and set you and Harry up tonight,” he says slowly, revealing the plan that had clearly been taken off the table as they just needed to attempt to salvage cordiality.

“Really?!” She’s in complete disbelief and slight dismay that the plan was seemingly ruined.

“Well,” he sputters, “When the two of you aren’t throwing verbal fireballs at each other, you’re actually quite sweet to one another. Those fond little glances you hope no one sees, well he does that too, and you both fail miserably because I see it all the time. I’m sure plenty of people do too.”

“Oh,” she states, visibly deflating. She looks to the ashtray conveniently on a table behind her and presses out the rest of the cigarette. “Should probably talk to him, huh?”

Nick nods, stamping out his nub of a cigarette as well. They go back inside and into the kitchen where Lily and Harry have plated dessert. Harry looks a little sheepish, likely having a similar conversation with Lily and she wouldn’t be surprised if her expression looks similar, if not a bit more flushed from the outdoor chill.

Lily murmurs that she and Nick are going to eat their dessert in the living room, a fair bit away from the kitchen and the two now deflated counterparts nod and then stare at each other, knowing what they need to do.

“Can we talk?” Harry rasps out, his voice even lower as he speaks softly, a mere foot away from her in the kitchen.

She nods, but moves further from him to lean against the counter and tuck her hands behind her. She’s lost her appetite and doesn’t want Harry to see her shaking digits.

He’s ducked his head and a stray curl falls over his forehead, laying there softly. He doesn’t move to fix it, just stares at his feet until she begins to talk. He can’t not look at her face when she speaks.

“So…” She slowly starts, not enjoying the tension in the room. Her eyes can’t meet his though, his stare dark and unnerving like usual, but almost painfully so now. “I can start.” She kicks at the tiling on the floor like she had done outside as well, trying to not think about the eyes trained on her right now. “I’m sorry I lashed out on you, Harry. I didn’t mean what I said, it was just a heat of the moment response.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Harry says immediately once she finishes speaking, “I shouldn’t have gotten upset over a silly joke and brought up a sensitive subject. Then it escalated…”

“Yeah, I really liked the friendship we’ve garnered these past few months and I just can’t believe I almost ruined everything - including my career…” she squeaks at the end and tears start to roll from her eyes. “Oh god,” she is hit with the gravity of all that she almost ruined as Harry stares at her again. “I’m so sorry, Harry, I really am. Do you forgive me? I don’t think I could stand it if you didn’t.”

She stands there and feels sobs wrack through her and her hands go to cover her face out of embarrassment. She had caused a scene and now she was making another one. In front of Harry.

In an instant his arms are wrapped around her frame and he’s hushing her cries. They had never hugged before, but now seemed like as good a time as ever. His arms were strong around her and she pressed her face into his chest, not caring at all about how she looked or whether this was worse than getting in a fight and running off.

“Of course I forgive you,” he says and then begins repeating her name over and over, trying to soothe her. He definitely had been hurt by her words, but it seemed like she was more upset about the whole situation than he was and he didn’t think bringing up what specifically had hurt him would help her frame of mind.

She settles after some time, her whimpers and tears subsiding after being rocked into a more peaceful mindset with the help of Harry’s calming voice and reassuring embrace.

“I really am sorry,” she whispers again.

Harry pulls his neck back and his head off the top of her head to look at her face. It was tear stained and her eyes were glassy, lips slightly puffy. He gave her a soft tight-lipped smile. “No more apologies,” he states sternly and then softens again at the slight quiver in her lip. He pulls from her a little more, leaving her at arm's length, with his hands still attached to her hips, fingers slipping over the plaid fabric. “I meant to tell you this earlier, before things…” he stares at her face again and she holds it this time, “You look beautiful tonight.”

She scoffs and her eyes immediately drop to her feet, “Definitely not anymore.” She doesn’t believe Harry.

“‘M serious,” he insists. His right index finger goes to rest beneath her chin and brings her face up to look back at him.

“Sure,” she says, still not convinced but not sure how else to respond. She feels herself warming at all the positive attention he’s pouring into her.

His gaze won’t falter from her face, he’s intent upon making her understand him. He whispers her name, “Accept the compliment.”

“You’re stubborn,” she notes.

“So are you,” he counters quickly.  

“Fine, thank you,” she sighs when he won’t stop giving her that look of his. That look that makes her want to melt into the ground because it feels like she’s the only person in the world. “Though you looked especially good tonight, too,” she adds, her hands rubbing over his shoulders softly.

“Thank you,” Harry states lowly, the words only traveling to her ears. His hands fiddle with the sides of her top, thinking about the night and where they were now. Her eyes were red from crying and overall she looked tired beyond her years. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“That’d be nice.”

They make a quiet farewell to Nick and Lily, as well as apologies from both her and Harry. They don’t speak in the car and the music plays loud enough for it to not seem unreasonable for them to be silent. Harry’s hands don’t tap against the steering wheel, they sit in their spots stoically doing their job and nothing more. She watches the window, legs crossed and hands clasped in her lap. She’s thankful for the music because she knows that even though they had talked, it wasn’t enough. What she had said was hurtful and one apology wasn’t enough for how she had behaved. She didn’t think her and Harry would be the same after tonight, but the silence made it possible for her to pretend none of it had happened.

Just as Harry’s car is pulling up the apartment complex that is far darker now, the harsh splatter of rain begins to fall on the pavement and the sleek black car the two are still sat in.

“Oh,” she comments offhandedly, just responding to what she had noticed.

The rain grows louder when Harry parks and then turns off the car. He glances at her for the first time since they got into the car. She registers the look out of the corner of her eye, her face still looking out at the rain. She loved the rain, but there wasn’t always a lot in Southern California, especially not in Palm Springs. It seemed that tonight was different.

“Well,” Harry breaks his silence, she thinks that’s her cue to leave and unbuckles her seatbelt, but he continues. “This certainly wasn’t how I expected this night to go.”

She stops moving, her hand hovering over the handle of the door. She sits back and settles into the seat, feeling her teeth bite into the plush of her bottom lip.

“That’s what people keep saying,” her eyes remain on the rain hitting the front of the car, the splatters of seemingly black liquid that form when the clear rain touches the onyx hood of the car.

“Huh?” Harry grows perplexed at the rather wistful tone of her and how she won’t look at him again. He was still hurt, but he had hoped them talking in the kitchen had straightened some things out. During the car ride he hadn’t wanted to talk, but it didn’t mean he was still angry with her. Just confused, and growing further confused by the second.

“Oh,” she repeats, “Didn’t Lily say? Her and Nick concocted that dinner in hopes to set us up.”

Harry hums, knowing that because Nick had left out a little part of that plan. That he had been a part of it. He had been talking with Nick about getting to know her better outside of work and how Nick had thought it’d be a good idea to have dinner so he had told Lily and they set it up like a casual dinner party. Harry didn’t know how to respond because her knowing that he was in on the plan might just make matters worse. He really didn’t think things could get much worse, but it seemed that they always managed to make it happen so in the end he decided to keep his mouth shut.

“I don’t know if we’d ever be able to work out differences out for that,” she decides to continue, when Harry stays quiet. She scans the interior of the car and watches Harry for the briefest moment before going back to looking out the window. “Nick said that we challenge each other to grow, but all I see us do is hurt each other.”

Her voice is just above the rain pattering outside the car and Harry thinks it sounds almost melodic if it weren’t for the sadness laced in every word.

“I disagree,” he states before wetting his lips.

“Of course you do,” she laughs in spite of herself.

“Even after all these months together and you still don’t get it. I like you.”

“You don’t like me, I don’t know how you could ever like me,” she shakes her head. “We just...we get under each other’s skin. You can make me so angry sometimes and I know I make you angry too. And when we’re not angry, we’re focussed on something that doesn’t have to do with ourselves.”

“I don’t think what you feel for me is anger,” Harry insists, “Just because something feels burning and fiery, frustrating even, doesn’t mean it’s anger.”

His body shifts closer to the center divide and she turns to face him finally. His eyes are extra dark in this lighting, which is barely there from a streetlamp a ways off. She longs for the comfort of his light green eyes, the soft pale glow of the moss that seems to have been trapped within his iris. Maybe for that reason she unknowingly leans closer to him.

“Then what is it?” She whispers, eyes blinking slowly as her breathing grows strained.

“Passion.”

Immediately, her head is tilting to meet his lips. Her mind knows one thing, she needs to be kissing Harry right now. And then she is. His left hand goes to cup her cheek as his lips attach themselves to hers. His soft lips press to hers in a long searing kiss. They stay there for a moment, pressing all of that passion and frustration into the kiss.

She presses impatiently forward, her lips starting to move more, wanting to kiss him deeper. Harry obliges, parting his lips and kissing her more vigorously. He licks into her open mouth and smiles at the sound she makes in appreciation for his actions.

She’s shifted to have herself kneeling on the leather seat and she’s leaning over the console. One of her hands finds purchase on Harry’s thigh and grasps tightly, her other at the back of his neck, pressing him closer if it were possible.

His chest is pressing against hers as he pulls her closer. He kisses her and his fingertips rub softly at the apple of her cheek. Eventually they run behind the shell of her ear and trail down her neck.

Eventually, she pulls away and stares at Harry. She watches as his eyes flutter open gently. His soft eyelashes dust his cheeks before moving away, allowing his eyes to peer at her in the dark.

Her breathing feels a little irregular after the kissing and she’s sure she is heaving her chest slightly, likely mirroring Harry’s chest as well.

“So, where to now?” She inquires, lips quirked up at her suggestion.

Harry giggles and scratches his nose against his index finger.

-

Harry doesn’t stay the night, he walks her up to her apartment door though. He kisses her chastley in front of her door and wraps an arm around her waist as he does so. He bids her a goodnight and a promise of seeing her soon.

They don’t see each other for a month. Both of them had been so blissful after the endorphins of kissing their person that they had forgotten that filming had wrapped. They weren’t set to work for a month. Harry texted her the next morning informing her that he’d be in England until filming resumed. She was still going to be in California, filming was moving back to Los Angeles, so she’d be back in her place there. Her family knew she was working, so they had sent her presents ahead to her place instead. Angie, her only true friend in the area, was spending her time with her actual family and Y/N didn’t want to intrude.

So the holidays were going to be spent alone. Those four weeks alone passed surprisingly quickly. She practiced techniques on herself, bought a tiny Christmas tree like the one in A Charlie Brown Christmas, watched A Charlie Brown Christmas and just about every other holiday movie possible. She fell in love with young Hugh Grant and Colin Firth for the thousandth time. She sang carols to herself and decorated her place with decorations from Target. She jammed out to the new Miley Cyrus album and held dance parties for herself in the house. She baked cookies and even attempted a trifle after watching a Great British Bake Off episode. She did and she did all in hopes that her mind wouldn’t wander to the guy who hadn’t called.

Harry texted occasionally, but it was infrequent at best. He was a busy person, she knew that. She knew who he was. And she didn’t want her mind to have enough time to feel sorry for herself. For her to think that she was just somebody to pass the time with while at work, because if she stopped doing things that’s where her mind would wander. Why did her mind spiral like it did? She had no idea, she’d always been like that.

His absence, their separation, made her question if her own feelings were even true. She wondered if when she saw him he would act as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t said their relationship was passionate and she had kissed him until she couldn’t breath.

Too much time alone, she needed some fresh air. On January 2nd, after an uneventful night at home and a lackluster countdown washed down with cheap champagne, she decided to go and walk around near her place. There was a coffee shop that wasn’t extremely expensive that she also liked that she figured she would get coffee from. After a brisk walk, she walked through the store's doors and ordered an iced green tea. As she waited, she watched the other customers around her, wishing to see a friendly face, someone she knew. And seconds later, she was met with half of that wish. Someone she knew, not necessarily a friendly face.

“Autumn.” She states with a grimace when someone taps her on the shoulder and she spins around.

“Y/N? It is you!” Autumn, one of the PA’s from Don’t Worry Darling who was especially in Harry’s business, exclaims overly happy as per usual.

Y/N bites the inside of her cheek and gives a tight lipped smile, trying her best to be cordial.

“How’s your holiday been!” Autumn asks.

“Great. You?”

“So great!” She’s quick to lean closer and say in a hushed tone, “But I miss working on set, especially getting to see that Harry everyday. He’s just so gorgeous.”

A breath gets stuck in Y/N’s chest at the mention of Harry’s name. Her brows can’t help but raise a bit at Autumn’s comment. Even lowering her voice didn’t make it feel alright to talk about Harry like this. He was her friend after all.

“Sure.” Y/N nods abruptly, realizing Autumn wants some recognition of what she’s just said. Y/N’s eyes glance around the room, hoping for an out like her drink is ready or something - no such luck.

“I mean,” Autumn keeps talking, of course, “You’re so lucky. You get to see him shirtless, like what? Everyday practically? Don’t tell me you don’t miss that just a little bit!”

“I miss working,” Y/N says, avoiding what Autumn is trying to get her to say. “And Harry’s my friend, could you maybe not talk about him like that with me?”

Autumn’s eyes widened in shock, her lips parted dumbfounded by her co-worker's response. Y/N’s name is called for her drink and she’s thankful for the serendipitous nature of that sound getting her out of the awkward situation she had just been in.

When she gets back to her apartment, she surprisingly has a text from Harry himself. She’s always telling everyone; speak of the devil and he will appear, in one way or another. It’s a Happy New Year well wish followed by a separate text asking how she was.

It was sent a minute ago so she decides to try and give him a call. She preferred talking on the phone over texting.

It rings a few times and then, again surprisingly, he picks up.  

“‘Lo?” His voice is nice and deep and sounding extra British after his weeks surrounded by family and such.

“Harry,” she sighs contentedly.

“Happy to hear your voice,” he says her name and she can tell he’s smiling just like she is, from ear to ear.

She bites at her lip, hearing him say her name.

“I’m well, thanks,” she says after a moment of happy silence.

“What?” Harry laughs, confused.

“You texted asking me how I was and I called to respond.”

“Got it,” Harry chuckles, and she hears him shuffling around, likely sitting down on something.

“How are you?” She continues.

“Good, starting to wind down for the day,” he lists off the things he’s been doing over the past few days. Some of it work related, some of it family activities. All of it fun, he insists. “What did you do today?” He finishes, knowing she was an avid activity doer based off of the snaps she had sent him over the past few weeks.

“Tidied my place, went to the coffee shop and got iced tea…” she tries to think and then she gasps, “Oh! And I saw Autumn, one of the Don’t Worry Darling PA’s -”

“The one who’s obsessed with me?”

“Exactly!” She laughs, “And I may have kind of told her off… accidentally.”

“Accidentally told her off?” Harry repeats, incredulous. “How’d you do that?”

“Well,” she doesn’t want to tell him the rest, but there’s also a tiny part of her that really does, “She was gushing about you, which, ew. And then she asked if I missed seeing you shirtless everyday.”

“Well do you miss seeing me shirtless?” Harry smirks.

“Oh shut up!” She’s quick to reply.

“So you do?”

“If I really wanted to see you shirtless, all I’d have to do is type in “Harry Styles sh” and it would come up,” she rolls her eyes even though she knows he can’t see them. “Wouldn’t even need the whole word. Guaranteed.”

“Uh-huh?” Harry questions still, “If you want me to send you shirtless pictures that the rest of the world hasn’t seen, Y/N, all you have to do is ask.”

“I do not want you to send me shirtless pictures of yourself!” She exclaims. She feels like jumping out of a window right now. This conversation had escalated so quickly and she felt herself flushing, maybe even perspiring a little bit. And she also knew that she also would probably like it if he sent her shirtless pictures, which made this whole thing worse.

“Offer stands,” he says, smug as he normally was, happy he got to banter with her again. It had been dull without her, if he was honest with himself. “If you ever find yourself in need, just send a cheeky text and I’ll whip one out for you, no matter where I am or what I’m doing.”

“See this sounds like you’re saying something sincere, but really you’re just telling me you’ll send me nudes at any time.”

“No one said anything about nudes!”

“Shirtless, nude, sounds like you’re getting too caught up in the details, hon.”

“No!” He protests, “You’re the one who’s supposed to be flustered right now, not me!”

“Aww, you’re flustered,” She coos.

Harry groans. “Whatever. I’ll be back on the 8th, be ready to go out on the 9th. I’m taking you on a proper date.”

“How do you know I’m going to say yes?” She bite her lip again, she’s really sweating now. She couldn’t believe he had just asked her out on a date out of nowhere. Out of them just joking about nudes. Maybe she didn’t know Harry as well as she thought.

“Because you called me,” he says confidently.

“I call everyone.”

“But I don’t offer shirtless pictures to everyone.”

“That has nothing to do with me saying yes to this date.”

“Or does it?”

She laughs at his words, at how his voice still manages to convey every facial expression and quirk of his lips. She knows there’s a smile on his lips as he stares in the distance, imagining her face just as she is his.

“Yes.” She smiles.

“Yes!” He repeats happily.

She hears him stand up and spin around possibly and she chuckles slightly, amused at the silly man across the world who had seemed to have stolen her heart.

“See you soon, Harry.”

“Not soon enough.”

-

On the Saturday of their date, Harry insists on picking her up. He meets her at her door and winks at her after pulling away from their short hug. He laces his hand in hers and she follows behind him as he all but drags her to his car that is downstairs. He seems giddy. His hair has grown out in the month he’s been gone and she knows they’ll cut it when filming resumes. He’s wearing Gucci flared blue jeans - she knows from the big logo on the bottom left pant leg - a ‘Waiting for Sunset’ graphic tee beneath a black cardigan with little animals and items knitted in it. And of course, his dirty ass vans. She had hoped that maybe Christmas would bring him a fresh pair from someone, but it seemed there was no such luck.

Either way, he looked good and upon scanning his outfit, she was pleased that she had dressed correctly for the occasion, knowing one of the sins of Los Angeles was being improperly dressed wherever you might go. Harry had said casual, but casual can always mean so many different things. She got it right with light wash high-waisted levi’s, a brown cream rib-knit long sleeve that buttoned like it could be a cardigan, and some fun chunky boots that added some height to her normal stature. She had contemplated between this and possibly twenty other tops and a few other bottoms. Landing on this felt right, plus it didn’t clash with Harry, the color of her shoes actually matched the color of the snake on the cardigan.

They both compliment each other on the way out to his car and she giggles when he stops and twirls her around. He says he didn’t get a “proper look” before for him to compliment her adequately. After the twirl, he nods and starts them off again, complimenting the specific pieces of her clothes and says she looks beautiful again. His giddiness was contagious.

“No Range tonight,” she muses when Harry stops them in front of a Mercedes-Benz cream convertible, top up.

“Not working,” he replies, unlocking the car with the key into the passenger’s side door handle.

She smiles and slides into the car and watches him jog around to his side and unlock it as well.

“Tonight is going to be fantastic,” he says, leaning over the console and kissing her cheek, just beside her lips.

And when he pulls away with that smug smile of his, she knows he kissed her there on purpose. But the little tease only makes her smile more. He was good at this. And he was right.

The night was fantastic. As was every night after. And she learned that Harry was so much more than anything she ever thought. She counted herself lucky to be loved by a man like him.

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

[acciomalfoy]

BETROTHED (DRACO MALFOY X READER)

Summary: To avoid you being betrothed to an old man, Draco comes up with a plan.

—

"Dear Y/n, your mother and I have discussed your coming of age in great depth, and we have decided your betrothal has been delayed far too long. We will begin meeting with potential suitors immediately, as far too many eyes are watching us. We're looking forward to seeing you at Christmas. Best wishes, your Father."

I gasped as I crumpled the letter, shoving it deep into my pocket. How could they do this? I knew I shouldn't have opened anything from them in the Great Hall, but as the tears fell, I only just remembered why. I stood up quickly and walked as fast as I could out of the Hall. As soon as I was out, I broke off running, my loud sobs echoing in the castle. Paintings stared at me as I ran past, their disapproving eyes raking me over.

"How did that one get into Slytherin?" I heard one murmur, a snicker followed. I ran straight around one of the corners, and smacked right into someone.

"L/n?" Godric, why? Malfoy held my wrists in front of me, staring into my blotchy face.

"Let go of me." I sniffed, and tried to pull away. His grip only tightened, but his tone softened.

"L/n. What's wrong? Did someone say something to you?" His voice sounded concerned, but this was Draco Malfoy of all people. Did the boy even know what the word meant?

"M-My parents!" Tears rolled down and down my face. I didn't want to be married to a sixty year old man. I wanted to be free to love who I yearned to, like the Weasley's were.

"What about them? Are they okay?" When I lowered my head, he let go of one of my wrists to lift it.

"They're betrothing me!" I wiped my nose and another round of sobs overtook me. Of course, I knew a girl two years below me who was already married off, but for some reason I never thought it would happen to me. One of my friends was, but Tracy swore he was only twenty. A name like Engleberton doesn't sound like it belongs to a twenty year old.

"I'm sorry, L/n. You know, it does happen to pretty much every Slytherin. Who's it to?" And then we were hugging, in the middle of a corridor. I knew his problems were so much bigger than him, or me, but for some reason he was listening to me. He was caring about what I had to say.

"I don't know. They've only just begun the meetings. My life is over!" He patted my back, and I tried not to cry on him, I really did. But then my nose and my eyes were leaking, me being powerless to stop them.

"How would you feel about being betrothed to someone in Hogwarts." His head leant on mine, and I really didn't know what was happening.

"Pretty much every pureblood is inbred here. I think I'm the only one who isn't. If only Pansy's parents weren't cousins, maybe she wouldn't have that nose." He stepped back, and looked at me.

"I'm not." He murmured, and I almost had to lean forward to hear it. He wasn't inbred? Damn, could've fooled me.

"Listen, Malfoy. I appreciate it, I really do. I used to have a crush on you, back in third year. The thing is, you've changed. You're a slave, and the binding tattoo on your arm is the only thing stopping me from kissing you right now. I really wish we could have worked through it, but there is no way in hell that I will ever, ever have an allegiance to him. I would rather die." When I jerked my arm back, his fingers fell.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy. I really am." I forgot about the reason he was being nice, and remembered I was probably going to be married to a sixty year old. I shed another tear, and walked away from the saviour. If he couldn't save himself, then he couldn't save me.

"Wait!" He shouted after me, and I turned around in surprise.

"What if I changed sides?" His eyes were wild, and mine widened. Was he..?

"Malfoy, you don't have to do that." I looked at him, the impulsive slytherin, and sighed.

"I do. If I want to have you, then I have to. You said so. I'll go owl mother and, well, I'll see." With that, he turned around and walked away, in a similar way to I had. Except he wasn't crying, or even sniffling. He was being a saviour, and he was trying.

When I turned in the opposite direction, I realised what it meant. He was really trying to protect me. I had always assumed Pansy and Malfoy would end up married with little blonde pug babies. I had never seemed to catch his eye, except now, when it mattered most. I reached into my pocket to pull out the crumpled letter, and reread it. Godric, I hoped Draco would help me.

A week had passed when Pansy came barrelling into the Great Hall, a newspaper clutched in her hand. She was waving it about, and I couldn't hear what she was saying.

"Engaged! Can you believe it?" She shrieked as she passed some students. When her eyes caught mine, she raced over.

"When were you going to tell me? Salazar, Y/n! You know I like him! We were always meant to be together. Fuck, this really stings. You're my best friend, how could you do this?" Her eyes started watering, and I snatched the newspaper out of her hand.

"The Malfoys and L/n's exciting news? What the fuck?" I skimmed the front page, and I felt bile rising in my throat.

"Oh my Godric, I'm-I'm going to be sick!" I looked around desperately, but I couldn't see a single thing nearby that I could throw up in.

"L/n!" Malfoy was yelling at me, and as soon as I saw him I couldn't help it. My vomit flew all over him, and I stared at him.

"How could you? You evil bastard!" I shouted at him before shouldering him as I ran past. Fucking cow! How on earth could he do this? Deep down, I already knew what I was going to do. If my betrothed was a death eater, then I would have to talk to Harry. Harry Potter could help me, he would have to help me.

I knew where the Gryffindor common room was, thanks to being study partners with Hermione. Smartest girl I've ever known. I ran up the stairs, swallowing the taste of vomit in my throat. I cast a quick spell, and the scent vanished, as well as my uniform being cleaned up. I knocked desperately on the portrait, and a first year opened it.

"I need Harry." If Harry came, then I knew the other two would. Sure enough, Harry was in the middle, the other two flanking him.

"Y/n! I heard the news! Are you okay?" He was hugging me, and I was reminded of how sweet he was.

"No, I'm not. Malfoy's a death eater, I'm sure you already suspected it. I told him last week I wasn't getting married to him if he was on that side, and he said he would change sides. He hasn't, and I haven't heard anything to show that he is. I need your help to put him on the right path, or I'm going to have to leave Hogwarts. Permanently. I'll be running away if I have to marry a death eater." I said it quickly, but the golden trio caught every word. Hermione's hand went to her mouth, but it was more in horror than surprise.

"We suspected, but we didn't know for sure." Hermione said, looking at me quite sadly.

"We have to go to Dumbledore. He can help us. Draco can join the order-" Harry began.

"No, Harry. For Malfoy to join the order, he has to be one hundred percent loyal. He has to go against everything he's been taught, and the very role he is destined to fill. He has to abandon his family, unless they are willing also. This is incredibly serious. We have to talk to him first." Hermione finished. Harry nodded slowly.

"I'll check the map." He turned around, and I watched his retreating figure as he went up the stairs.

"Thank you guys. You're seriously the best. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it." Ron looked uncomfortable, but Hermione smiled back. They gestured for me to come inside, and the portrait closed behind me.

"It would be an incredible advantage to have the Malfoy's on our side. That's practically an unlimited funding, and with their high status they may be the deciding factor in whether other families join us. I only hope we can convince them." Hermione brushed a hair out of her face as Harry came thundering down the stairs.

"He's in Dumbledore's office!" Harry pointed at his name, and I stared. He was doing it. I didn't know why he was trying so hard to help me. I couldn't help but wonder if he had ulterior motives. Malfoy has hardly noticed me, I'm not sure he's uttered a word to me. And now? Now he's going to the ends of the earth for me. I didn't know what to think.

"He must really care for you." Hermione put a hand on my shoulder, and I nodded, swallowing thickly.

"I know it's horrible of me to wonder, but he hasn't shown any interest in me for the five and a half years that we've been at Hogwarts. Surely, if he was doing all this to help me, he would have?" I looked wildly at the three best friends, and they gazed back at me, almost pityingly.

"He has, Y/n. He really has." Ron said. I shook my head.

"He hasn't. He seriously hasn't." Ron laughed, but his heart wasn't in it.

"In first year, I called you Malfoy's girlfriend when he was picking on us. He screamed at me, and then he threatened to snap my wand if I said your name again." Ron looked almost spooked at the memory, and I rolled my eyes.

"That's him being protective of a fellow Slytherin, not him having a crush." Hermione raised her eyebrows, and I raised mine back.

"Fine. I caught him doodling your name and his, with hearts around them." Hermione looked smug, and I laughed.

"Probably drawing crosses through my name." They all sighed.

"D'you remember last time gryffindor versed slytherin? When Malfoy fell off his broom?" Godric, how could I forget? He had an empty look in his eyes, and it scared me.

"Yeah?" I didn't know how on earth they could relate this one to me.

"He was making fun of me, so I told him I had a crush on you. I said something like, after I ask Y/n to celebrate gryffindor winning, we'll see who's laughing. I think that's what I said. He went completely white, even paler than normal. Then a gust of wind came, and it was like he wanted to fall. He let the wind take him." Harry looked at me, and I knew, deep down, he was telling the truth. A knock at the portrait interrupted us. I moved aside, and Hermione opened it. She stared.

"Who is it? Oh, blimey." Ron took a peek, and he didn't like what he saw. I poked my head around to see Malfoy. His eyes caught mine, and I looked away to see his robes were no longer covered in vomit. Good for him.

"Y/n, please come talk to me." My first name sounded foreign on his tongue. I looked at my friends, and despite their hatred for Malfoy, they nodded. I stepped hesitantly, and the portrait closed behind me. He gestured for me to walk with him, so I did.

"I owled my mother last week, like I told you. She didn't reply, and when the newspaper was released this morning I found out, just like everyone else. I know you're not willing to be a slave to Him like the rest of my family, and I agree. I've been given a task by Him, and I don't intend on doing it. I talked to my mother in a firecall this morning, and they are moving into a location known only to them, and the secret keeper, much like Potter's parents. They'll be protected there, and I'm protected here. I'm trying to fix this, Y/n, I really am." It was a lot of information, and he took my hand as he was speaking. The Malfoy's were going into hiding. That alone was massive. Their assets must have been frozen and transferred, so He can't access the funding. I looked at him, and squeezed his hand.

"Thank you, Malfoy. It really does mean a lot. I have to ask you, why are you doing this?" We stopped walking, and he looked down.

"I've had a crush on you since first year, and I've wanted you for three." Godric knew what he meant by 'want'. I kissed him, right there in the middle of the hall, because his nose was dotted in faint freckles, and never before had someone been so determined to help me.

He kissed me back.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #slytherin #harry potter

[the-coffee-story]

Rise of the Forest God

Chapter 17 - Professor Tally Winchester

Winchester Hall was a beautiful, dark Victorian mansion á lá Addams Family that rested proudly upon the tallest hill around. The windows, grey with age and dust were tall and skinny and a rusted iron gate, with weathered carvings now indistinguishable rested half swallowed by dirt and uncut blades of long dry grass. The whole thing blended rather well with the crawling forest behind it.

The team was waiting by the gate, curious and giddy with half-numbed nervousness.

"Well, now I'm definitely interested," Walther commented, peeking through the towering, rusted gate. "This looks like it's haunted by at least three ghosts who died a horrible death. They never found the heads."

October laughed.

"Seriously October, imagine the Addams Family's mansion, now scale it down a little."

He raised an eyebrow. "Can't wait for Morticia to pop out."

"Well, Morticia was definitely not on the phone," Violet noted.

Suddenly, the carved, dark-oak door that rested comfortably in the centre of the home's front opened, and a young man peeked out, adjusting his glasses as he took a moment to assess the situation. After a few moments passed, he noticed the team waiting by the gate, waved to wordlessly grab their attention, and quickly scuttled over.

Tally Winchester was a medium-heighted, slender and bald individual with large, wildly blue eyes behind thick glasses and a countless amount of scattered silver piercings dotted in and around his earlobe. Despite the fact that it was it had just dawned early spring, his skin was sunburnt and tanned, as if he spent most of his days somewhere lost outside. He walked with a noticable limp, and Walther didn't need to wait long for an explanation, when a prosthetic briefly appeared between his worn brown converse sneakers and faded jeans.

"Hi!" He flashed a toothy smiled at the group and opened the gate. "Great to see you, I'm Professor Tally Winchester!" He shook everyone's hands as they trickled past. The sleeves of his petrol flannel were rolled up, revealing a rather out-of-place, faded tattoo of a crawling lizard and a bunch of old scars. "You can call me Tally though."

Violet held out her hand. "Hi, I'm Violet, we talked on the phone."

"Great to meet you all!" He grinned. "Are you coming inside?"

***

"Before anyone asks, I inherited the house," Tally explained while leading them upstairs. "It's rotten and I hate it and the bills are a naked horror but I doubt I can find anything that has more capacities for a library." He opened a door. "Intrate, everyone."

"Remarkable," Doc commented.

Remarkable was indeed an understatemt. The room they'd entered was a library- with a beautiful brick fireplace and huge windows that let in the sparse afternoon sun, bookshelves brushed against the webbed ceiling and sunk into every wall. The floor was carpeted, through incredibly uncomfortable to walk on, and the furniture antique. One wall was plastered with photographs and notes.

"Nice," Walther mumbled, taking the second to once again soak in their surroundings.

Tally grinned, idly brushing aside pages and old notes compromised of incomprehensible scribbles and drawings. His teeth were somewhat crooked. "I didn't replace any of the furniture, but I did sell a chunk of the old books. There was just no space for mine." He closed the door behind them. "So anyway, you wanted to know about the cult?"

"There's been a bunch of murders in Forest Lane that were eerily similar to what it did, so yeah." Thasfield shrugged his broad shoulders. "We suspect the cult might be involved."

"Oh, I heard about that on the news!" Tally sorted the files on the table until he found what he was looking for. Then he looked up. His face was serious now. "At this point I'd like to admit I have a slightly selfish motivation in this."

"What is it?", Violet asked.

"You see..." Tally leaned against the table. "For context, I'm a history professor, but my focus is on cryptids and modern legends. Historical context, potential explanations, yada yada. A few years ago I stumbled across the legend of the Forest God."

Walther's face lit up. "Oh, I remember that story, my parents used to tell it to me when I was a kid! This one guy got lost in the woods, was found dead and after his funeral his reanimated corpse came home and his wife who loved him very, very much-" They side-eyed Violet and Coffee, who in turn glared back. "-couldn't accept that maybe it's not exactly normal that your husband's corpse is vibing around, then after a while he started killing people, then he killed her and then the neighbours buried him in an iron casket in the woods so he would stop randomly murdering people. Right?"

"You summed it up." Tally nodded.

"But who believes in that?!" Violet frowned. "I mean... it's just a legend, right? Somebody finally snapped, had a rough week or something, and people straight up believe his bullshit?"

"He came back from the dead and started murdering people, Violet," Doc commented.

She shrugged dismissively. "We've all been there."

"I don't want to meet you after a bad week," Tally remarked with mild discomfort, absentmindedly flipping through pages of notes and nonsense. "The existence of the man who allegedly became the Forest God is proven. His name was Eustace Wyndham and if you ask me he had rabies and some things were added for drama. But that's not even relevant, because the cult came almost a hundred years later." He slid around the table and opened another scattered file. "1969 they started to worship the Forest God. At first it was nothing special, you know, just the average college student nonsense." He held up an old photograph, subtle wonder in his eyes as he stared into it, before handing it to Walther. "Here, you can take a look at this! That's the entire cult. The guy in purple with the long hair is one of the founders. The other founder left in 1970 after getting a bad feeling about the whole thing. I caught him for an interview five years ago. Lovely guy, sadly died of cancer shortly after. It's a shame. You can pass the photo around! Notice how they're all wearing cow parsley wreaths. That was the flower associated with the Forest God and the flower scattered all over their murder victim's body, or rather what was left of it."

"All the victims had cow parsley in their mouth," Doc realized, dragging a hand up to rest in his soft ginger curls, staring blankly into the distance, thinking.

Tally nodded hastily. "Exactly! And now please look at what I found on my windowsill this morning!"

He limped over to the tallboy, half relying on the nearby furniture for support. Leaning down and throwing open a drawer, after a short while of sifting through papers and photographs, he took out something else. Then he held it up.

It was a wreath of cow parsley.

"That's....not good," Walther murmured after a long moment of stunned silence.

Tally nodded, twirling the flowers between his thumb and forefinger. "You get it. You know..." He leaned heavily against a dusty, worn table and heaved a small sigh. "When Wilhelm called me at first I was very sceptical of it all. I'm not a group project person, if you know what I mean. But this is just the tip of the ice berg and I have a feeling that I might be next, so I decided to work with you." He shrugged his shoulders.

While he'd been talking, Coffee had been furiously typing. He handed Tally his phone and Tally read it out loud.

" 'How about we use you as a bait?' Um... Can you...can you please explain what exactly you mean? That doesn't sound particularly safe-!"

He handed Coffee's phone back to him, paranoid he might accidentally drop it, and the detective started typing an answer, this time with significantly more determination.

Hear me out. So my idea was basically that tonight we let the killer come, but were going to be prepared. In other words, we gather a big group that's going to protect you, and we're going to arrest the murderer once he's here. What do you think?

Tally hesitated for a short moment and chewed his lip, opening his mouth to reply, then closing it again.. "I mean... I guess you have a point, sooner or later he's going to get me either way."

"I mean, let's be real, you can't run forever," Thasfield said, leaning forwards. "Even if you move, it's still going to take a while, and judging by what we know you're being pretty actively stalked, so it's quite possible he'll just follow you and then you'll be killed by a Forest God in a hotel room in Central Graytown. Which probably makes for an interesting plotline in a noir film, but we're talking real life here and I highly doubt you're so keen on landing in the morgue anytime soon. Although the Doctor is an expert at autopsies."

Doc smirked.

".........yeah," Tally admitted. He sat down on the table and scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, that sounds...icky but realistic." He closed his eyes took a deep breath. "Alright. Who's gonna be on this team?"

Doc's phone's rang loudly to shake up their newfound confidence, and he excused himself, stepping back into the dusty hallway to take the call.

"I mean, most of us for starters," Violet said. "But I was also thinking of grabbing Gary Fox and Wilhelm. Strength in number, you know?"

Doc eventually came back to the group. His weathered face was stricken with subtle anxiety. "Bad news."

"What is it?", Walther asked.

"Alice found her mailman by the stables."

Walther frowned. "Okay, and what's so special about that?"

"His left arm was by the stables. The rest of him was scattered across the field."

"Dear God, is he okay?"

"He's okay, but he's dead." Doc turned to Tally, lowering his voice just enough. "Can we settle on tonight?"

Tally nodded. His sunburnt face had notably paled, turning his skin a somewhat pasty yellow. "Sure. What time are y'all coming?"

"Is five o'clock alright with you?"

Tally shrugged his shoulders. "Sure."

#reviews are welcome ;) #remember to listen to the song #the coffee story #rise of the forest god

[romeulusroy]

Hi!

Can I ask for a male Criminal Mind ship?

Im 5’8”, have curly,darkbrown hair and fair complexion and hourglass type of body. Hair is my biggest insecurity, it's real love-hate relationship, but mostly it's definitely hate kind of a relationship. I have difficult nature- I have strong personality, I don’t like when someone tells me what to do and yet Im introverted. Some people say Im acting cold, but still love cuddles and small forms of affection. Around those I know I am usually cheerful and even quite crazy tho. I love to give my friends or close family small gifts, often handmade and without an occasion. I’m stubborn and if I have to I will stand up for my rights. I love drawing and painting and art in general. I’m interested in astronomy and I like to spend night at observing stars. I tend to travel a lot, sometimes with my dog – I have tattooed her paw print on my ribs. My goal is to visit all continents, I visited already 3 of them. I love meeting new cultures and learning languages. I am collecting postcards. I have big box of them already, some of them are from times I wasn't born yet. I also like writing letters! I get excited about all animals, especially dogs, cows and whales, however I am afraid of ladybugs and spiders. I am addicted to coffee with roasted hazelnut syrup. I listen to a music A LOT, almost 24/7. Usually it's rock and metal, but I like also classical, soundtracks, sometimes even pop and indie. I try to get to know music from all over the world (so if you have anything good I would be grateful for recommendation!).

You asked about HP houses- Slytherin/Thunderbird. For MTBI-INFP.

Thank you a lot and have wonderful day!💕

What trope are you? Together Forever 💕

You and Derek have been together, it seems, forever. Every time there's been a new hire, they swear up and down it seems like you've always been married. Derek doesn't wear his ring when he works. He doesn't want anyone knowing his biggest weakness: you. He talks about you though, all the time, nut only with people he really trusts. He knows how taxing the job can be. If someone doesn't seem like they're going to last, you become his best kept secret. You mean more than he could ever put into words. If someone threatened you, or the life you built, because of his big mouth, he'd never forgive himself. Most are surprised he's even married given how flirty he is with Garcia, but you're old friends, too. You know he'd never look at another person like the way he looks at you. You're the only one for him.

You and Derek have been together for a long time. Maybe not forever, but you've been through thick and thin together. You know the best and worst traits about one another. He knows how you feel about your hair, how you take your coffee. He knows that wherever his job takes him he absolutely must get a postcard from there, no matter how many you have. He often writes on the back of them while he's on the plane, reflecting about their last case. He always ends it with how much he loves you. Often, it's the only thing that keeps him grounded: is knowing when he comes home you'll be there. You'll always be there. Whatever bad stuff he had to see, what others have done, he knows that's all left behind the second he walks through the door, greeted by you and your adorable dog. You know the look he gives when somethings bothering him but won't bring it up first. You know his fake laugh from his genuine, and how to get him to smile.

Everyone jokes you're so perfect for each other it's gross. When neither of you are working you make a point to see somewhere new at least once a year. He's not much of a planner, but he never minds when you've got all these grand ideas. The three of you, including your pup, take hundreds of pictures while you're away. His favorite times, no matter where you are, is when you can sir under the stars. You're so fascinated with the sky you don't even notice the way he's looking at you, as if he's falling in love with you all over again. You point out different constellations and how beautiful they are, but they're nothing in comparison to you. He's always there to save you from spiders, though of course he'll tease you the rest of the day and gives all your music a try, even if it's not for him. Most of all, Derek knows, there is no him without you. As far as he's concerned, you are and will always be his person.

~ I hope you like it my love!!! Xoxoxo💜💖💜💖💜💖💜

#derek morgan #jammesbarnnes-ships #ships are closed!

[silenceofthecookies]

Black Clover matchup for @nakunakunomi

Matchup for me :D No gender preferences I am a biromantic ace. 

Your age: 24 

Your general appearance - most striking features, your fashion style, etc.

Answer: Chubby mermaid lol. Long curly hair almost all the way down my back. Red at the moment, but I’ve had all colors of the rainbow. Ears pierced multiple times and a septum ring whenever I leave the house. My general style is comfy alternative, loads of black, boots and ripped jeans but baggy shirts and sweaters. I don’t like drawing much attention to my chest because my boobs are a very prominent feature. Hourglass figure with extra minutes: so there’s boobs and ass but also a tummy and such. I have dimples when I laugh and a whole bunch of moles over my body. I like a killer liner and mascara but don’t necessary wear makeup every day. I like 4 tattoos and waiting for that fifth one. 

Your MBTI, western zodiac chart, etc.

Answer: INFP (mediator), Scorpio sun, Libra moon, Pisces ascending. Year of the rat. I’d say my MBTI type is pretty accurate and while I don’t have many of the bitchy traits often assigned to Scorpios, I do have some of the passion towards things I care about and a generally jealous and stubborn personality. 

Your personality, how you perceive yourself and how people around you perceive you.*

Your hobbies, interests, life goals etc.*

Answer: Stubbornness and some jealousy (that is always internalized) are my worst traits. I lack self-esteem and confidence and get anxious in new situations. Once I am around people I trust I blossom open and become more giggly (lame jokes and such) my humor is about 50% puns and 50% sarcasm. I am quick-witted with ‘mean’ remarks but I will never intend to offend or cause harm to anyone. Tough exterior comes with a soft interior. I tend to overthink and worry a lot and will usually put a friend’s needs above mine. I often have people coming to me for advice or to help them calm down. I will be honest in the softest way possible, even if the things I need to say aren’t necessarily nice. I want my friends to flourish. I get easily distracted by cute things and can really enjoy beautiful sights, nice food, good company… i am heavily introverted but I do need the handful of people I care about to flourish myself.

I accumulate facts and know loads of small things about a lot of things. I like adding in fun facts every now and then but sometimes I come across as a know-it-all and then I will get really self-conscious about it. I either talk up a storm nonstop or turn into myself and get really really quiet. 

Your favorites, likes, dislikes, pet peeves, fears.*

Answer: anything creative: reading and writing, drawing (although I’m terrible at it), pixel art. Singing, making music, playing instruments, DIYing things. I am quite good with makeup and wigs, and I cosplay but the sewing I still struggle with. I love acting and gaming as well although I don’t spend that much time on them.

I am super heavily interested in true crime, cases, and the psychology of murderers and such. I tend to get overexcited talking about such cases, never celebrating violence, but just being very fascinated by what a human brain can do. I also just really love riddles, mysteries, and solving them.

I’d love to become a teacher or a professional dog trainer. I love animals more than I love people and if I could work with dogs every day of my life that’d be amazing. An unrealistic goal would be to sing for a living, or do musicals. But I don’t think that’s ever gonna happen. 

Any additional info you would like to share, fun facts, etc.

Answer: food! Mainly Asian dishes (from all of Asia) and pastas. I love cooking and experimenting in the kitchen and trying out new things to taste. I’m vegetarian but not vegan and I will try everything that’s not meat or fish at least once! I love all kinds of animals, not only your average pets. I will also go pet the cows, and in the zoo you’ll have to drag me away by my ankles from the reptilians and the aquarium. I am fascinated by them and I love them. I love plants and flowers, and if you’d let me be, Id have a small jungle in my house with all kinds of plants and animals. I just love taking care of them, talking to them…

I dislike arrogant people, people who are rude against serving staff. I dislike impoliteness and laziness in the sense that other people are suffering from your lack of work. If I am in a group project I will never procrastinate because it can drag the whole group down, it’s okay to be lazy if it only impacts yourself.

I am afraid of loneliness and the fact that everyone I know just pretends to like me while talking behind my back and secretly hating me. I am not easily startled by monsters, animals, and such, but I do get a little paranoid if I have to walk in the street in the middle of the night. (a side effect from the true-crime consumption) 

Answer: I think I added most things in the other walls of text (sorry they are so long). But when it comes to relationship and goals around that there are these things that I think are most important: 

Love language is mostly quality time and words of affirmation, and that’s what I like too, as well as soft PDA and affections: cuddles, kisses, hand holding… I like spending time together, and even more so I like actually doing things together: sharing hobbies, going out, dates, dinners, walks, adventures, travels… all the things! :hellmo: 

Patience, because I have some anxiety issues as well as fear of commitment. I will definitely need some reassurance. Also consent is the sexiest thing in the world, and that’s coming from an ace person.

Honesty, liars are out. I have a lot of trouble trusting again once there has been a breach of trust. White lies for surprises and such is one thing, but any intentional lying in order to avoid confrontation is an absolute dealbreaker. 

I match you with...

Dorothy Unsworth!

Despite her being asleep a lot of the time, Dorothy notices more than she lets on. She can see straight through the front someone is putting up and see what they are really feeling. This really helps in letting her support you, who is always supporting others. She’ll remind you that sometimes you need to take a break or that you need to focus on yourself instead of others. With her infectious smile and her own absurd sense of humour, she’ll do her best to cheer you up, or at least to distract you from whatever is bothering you.

Dorothy is very patient and has no rush with any relationship. Everything has its own time and waiting for that time to come it part of the fun, right? She’s also very understanding of your anxiety and is able to adjust her energy to the situation, keeping it low when you need comfort and reassurance, and going straight back to high when you’re feeling better and just want to have some fun.

Dorothy may seem very cute and girly, but she is interested in true crime as much as you are. The gruesome details of a case are not wasted on her and she will gladly talk with you about these cases. In her time as a magic knight she has seen her own fair share of true crime as well and she will gladly share anything that’s not confidential or dangerous.

Her love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation. Not a day will go by where Dorothy won’t hug you from behind, kiss you between your shoulder blades and tell you she loves you. She loves loving you and making you feel loved. When she’s in love, keeping her lover safe, emotionally and physically, is her number one priority. She won’t give you even a second to doubt her love for you whenever you’re together. She’s very conscious of your boundaries and makes sure to not cross them.

Not a single lie will leave her mouth, unless as a joke, which will be very clear when she tells it. She is a knight, an enforcer of justice and peace, and lies are not in her book. Teasing, however, very much is, though she prefers to tease you with truths instead of with jokes. If there’s truth to the teasing, it’s just that much more effective.

You want this small strong captain to be putty in your hands? Cook for her, or cook with her. Dorothy greatly enjoys the good things in life and food is definitely on her list of good things. Her preference is mostly sweets, but she knows she needs to eat healthy food as well and she’s not picky when it comes to her dinner. The only need she has is that it tastes good, and that’s something you with your amazing culinary skills can definitely provide!

#black clover matchup #matchmaker cookie #cookie writes #matchup #600 followers event #requested #nakunakunomi #scheduled post

[wannabepygmalion]

30 factoids let’s gooo

( i just felt like doing these for fun... seeing briar do it + the ask memes got me thinking and i had the urge lmao )

1. His favorite Sanrio character is Cinnamoroll!! Also a fan of Marumofubiyori and Pompompurin.

2. Domino enjoys some music from pretty much any genre, but his favorite music usually is of the pop rock-pop punk-rock umbrella of sounds. He likes music that you could shout along to for Emotional Release (even though he will not actually do the shouting. he just still likes that vibe). 

3. He likes Animal Crossing. Probably doesn’t care too much about having a super finished and decorated island, but I imagine he tends to drift towards fall/autumn aesthetics and cottagecore vibes for what he does do… I think some of his favorite villagers would include Sylvana, Marshal, Teddy, Patty, Chief, Benjamin, Anabelle, Eunice, Shep, Hazel… he likes most of the Sanrio villagers too.

4. His favorite season is autumn, unsurprisingly.

5. Domino really likes dyeing his hair! He likes the sensation of looking in the mirror afterwards and his reflection feeling Different. 

6. He’s just so into art and art history. Once you get him to open up and he doesn’t feel like he’s annoying you, he will happily talk your ear off about (checks watch) the Corinthian order of Ancient Greek architecture. 

7. Also he does enjoy himself a little K-pop. He’s not super, super into it, but he has some groups he follows. Likes some songs he comes across. This is largely because I like to think about what kind of idols he’d bias since I”m so into it. I would name some groups he’d like, but I doubt any of them would still be around by 2030--

8. Growing up, his family never had any pets! Too busy. I think, honestly, Domino’s maybe never lived in a household that had pets, only met other people’s briefly. He would enjoy having a pet someday, but right now he doesn’t feel stable enough or like his life situation is good for a pet.

9. He has a couple fake succulents in his bedroom. He is currently too nervous that he’ll accidentally kill one and feel awful about it to try looking after a real plant.

10. His roommate’s name is Atlas! Atlas is a Twitch streamer who’s been getting more popular recently due to Minecraft roleplay, and is also a musician. Atlas’ online handle is Bird; his real identity is not public information.

11. Which. Yes, Domino has played Minecraft. But only on creative mode. He thinks it’s fun to build when his brain needs to chill, not really here for combat and all that.

12. He has a tattoo of a larkspur flower on one of his forearms; he got this pretty recently! Within the last 3 months or so.

13. He is banned from every Jamba Juice. If you ask him about this, he will either avoid it or tell you a different story every time.

14. Domino is actually really good at drawing as well as sculpting, but he heavily prefers sculpting. He’s been drawing for longer, but, when he first tried sculpting, something about it just clicked with him that he’d never experienced prior. 

15. He doesn’t drink alcohol, nor does he consume caffeine!

16. Atlas is also a faceless streamer -- his audience doesn’t know Domino exists beyond Atlas mentioning he has a roommate. Domino would like to keep it that way as much as possible.

17. He’s not a big spender… a good chunk of the money he earns from working goes to general life expenses -- rent, groceries, etc. He is not rich by any means. Money that’s leftover gets put away for when he needs to buy more art supplies; he spent a hot minute saving up for his tattoo since he wanted it to be nice.

18. Domino has an Instagram, but he doesn’t really do the “social” aspect of it. He just uses it more like a portfolio to post his work. Doesn’t respond to comments or anything, doesn’t look at it otherwise.

19. In general, he kinda avoids social media besides, like. Youtube and Twitch, and even then, he’s a diehard lurker for everything. He has spent some time browsing R/ddit, though, because it’s a decent place to see people talking about extremely specific experiences. Been on some specific forums too. Sometimes stuff like that makes him feel more validated and shit. Only valid R/dditor on the planet, etc. He absorbs other internet culture via osmosis from Atlas anyway.

20. He doesn’t drive! He still has a license for the sake of having a valid ID, but doesn’t drive with it. Doesn’t even have a car.

21. He has an older brother, who’s an engineer. He’s a couple years older and is off married somewhere else having an extremely normal life. Domino is estranged from his brother and has never met said brother’s wife. Probably didn’t even go to their wedding, honestly.

22. Domino doesn’t do commission work! He just kinda… does things at his own pace, then displays and eventually sells his work when it’s done.

23. The agent Domino works with is an older woman who works at a local art gallery that kinda took him under her wing. For obvious reasons. I mean, look at him. Her name is Veronica McCoy. Yes, I just took two names from Riverdale and slapped them together.

24. He doesn’t believe in soulmates! Or love at first sight, for that matter.

25. Domino’s usual typing style is actually a lot more laid back and casual -- no capitals, more prone to shortening words, etc. However, he types a lot more formally when it’s appropriate and/or he’s not comfortable with everyone in the convo. Similarly, he’ll loosen up a little in-person as he grows more at ease with you. To no one’s surprise, he will not give anyone nicknames unless they tell him to call them something else… he doesn’t want to offend.

26. Yes, he can and will swear if he’s comfortable with you. Yes, Domino can and will say ‘fuck’ -- though, he doesn’t throw it around constantly like some of my other characters. 

27. Domino has read a translation of all of Ovid’s ‘Metamorphoses.’ He loves that shit.

28. I think cows are one of his favorite animals… he just thinks they’re cute and have very sweet faces. He never wants to touch T/kTok (or its future equivalent) with a 10-foot pole, but he would be very pleased if you sent him videos of cute animals. Curated content with none of the stress.

29. When very focused working on something, he tends to stick his tongue out. :P

30. Some plants I would associate with him include: cyclamen, columbine, and meadow saffron!

#ooc ; #domino factoids ;

[cynergy-laughter]

Obey Me! One Master To Rule Them All! Headcanon #5 (Requested!)

Thank you anon for sending this into me! I encourage more asks, cause this was a pretty good one!

So MC is an artist, but not painter, drawing, or digital artist... they make and paint figurines! Let’s see what our bois have to say about this revelation! ^^

And as a bonus, what would our boys do if MC made a figurine, statuette of them?! (These might be long so I apologize in advance.)

Lucifer: He smirks as he finds this new thing out about you, it isn’t what he’s interested in, but he knows who would adore your talent. I think we all know who. He would find you displaying all of your figurines you made around your room, and you let him look around your room at all your work. There are specific ones you don’t want him to touch because they were freshly painted and drying. It wasn’t until he spies on one specific one, it was one of him in his demon form, wings spread out, he even got the peacock feathers of his midnight black coat right... so detailed, where did you even get the time to notice the details of his buttons? It was frightening, but at the same time... you got his good side. “Oh? That one is finished, do you like it? You can have it if you want. I just need to get a stand for you.” When you left the Devildom, he looked at your figurine of him and he shed a tear. He also made sure that your room and your figurines were not touched.

Mammon: He knocked on your door, trying to see if he could hang out with you. You say that you’re busy, but he can play a game if he wanted. That’s when Mammon sees the walls, and the figurines that lined the shelves of your room. It was honestly kind of creepy, there were many different characters, even some demons, students at RAD. “Dude, this is crazy, you ever thought about selling these?” “Oh... no, I don’t think they’re that good, I was always told they were creepy...” “No, a true fanatic would be paying top dollar, if I they were any better, they would be alive and moving...” Mammon’s hands wiggled, wanting to grab one of them, until he saw one that was on the drying shelf; it was him, in his demon form, his 8 pack was defined, his tattoos were symmetrical, his wings looked so brittle, yet powerful. It was clear you took pride in your craft. He reached out to touch it, only for you to take his hand. “You can have it when it’s done drying.” After he does get it, he fakes like he sold it off. Much to his brothers’ disapproval, and your melancholy nonchalance. But he has it, right on the dashboard of his car in his room, and everytime he looks at it, his heart fills with warmth.

Leviathan: At first, Levi doesn’t leave his room for anything, but when he comes to your room once, he is absolutely fanboying, he sees a lot of the figurines and recognizes some of them as different anime and video game characters. You become his new favorite person. He always visits your room to see what new figurines you’ve come up with, or have done. He even asks you to repaint a few figurines that he noticed had their paint dulled. But he is speechless when you gift him a figurine of him in his demon form, the horns were well detailed, his spots on his neck, his tail curled up, and he was holding a Ruri-Chan figurine protectively! Levi can’t figure out for the life of him whether he is in love, in awe, or in shock. But he snapped and wants you to start opening commissions cause he has a few requests, and he will be paying for your work.

Satan: Satan is interested after he asks you what your hobbies are, which is after you make a pact with him. You smile and say you have something to give to him, and ask him to see you in your room. Later, he is awestruck at your figurine collection, he sees your workbench with your arsenal of brushes, array of paints, and the materials that go into making figurines, the biggest focal point is the huge looking glass that glows with LED lighting. You came around from one of the shelves and ask Satan to hold out his hands and close his eyes. He reluctantly does so, and feels a stand in his hands. A trophy? He opens his eyes and he sees a figurine of him in his demon form, horns curled right, his green bow tied and wrapped around his chest, boa hanging off his shoulders and even his tail curling around his right leg. Down to a tee. With a blush, Satan said he would treasure it always, and that he would love to observe how you work at a later date.

Asmodeus: Has been hearing that you do art of his brothers and feels left out. He goes over to you and demands you paint him. You are a bit confused and tell him you don’t paint like that, but Asmo insists, in fact, he is willing to model for you. You smile and agree, you only ask that he be in his demon form. Later that night, he lays on his side and poses, and you began to work. You move around him while Asmodeus sits, it took a few days of night sessions until you finish the body of the figurine. You then say to give you about 2 days and you’ll be finished, Asmo was confused cause he still thought you were a painter like Picasso, or Lipschitz from Chicago. (Extra points of you get the reference.) After the second day, you get a knocking at your door to which you see an annoyed Asmo, demanding to see his painting. You said you just finished the painting and it was currently drying. Finally Asmo storms in, and is met with many different figurines. His mouth was ajar, and gasps when he sees his figurine on the drying shelf in the same pose. Asmo saw the details of his gold scorpion, the black roses on his shirt, and the pink tops of his horns. Asmo hugged you, began to apologize and express his gratitude in making him look so good!

Beelzebub: Beel has a lot to look at when he began hanging out with you, in fact his bursting through the kitchen and your wall made you lose a lot of your figurines, which you were very upset about. Beel got enough money to buy you a replacement workdesk and looking glass because he felt terrible about destroying your room and ruining your past time. Beel saw you the whole time you were in his room, working at the desk, he thought you were angry at him, which made him lose his appetite. One day, after you made your pact with Beel, you gave him his figurine of him, in his demon form, holding a cheeseburger and about to take a bite, the attention to detail about his bug-like wings, his horns, details on his jacket, his belts, and especially his boots. Beel tried to eat the cheeseburger on his figurine, but you reiterate that it isn’t real, and that it probably wouldn’t fill him up because it was so small. Beel began laughing as he gave you a hug, asking if that was what you were working on the whole time after he bought you the replacement desk and looking glass, to which you smile and confirm it. And then thank Beel for everything.

Belphegor: Had began to hang out with you, after the drama happened, and saw first hand that you enjoyed your hobby. He doesn’t really pry much into your hobby, because it was still fresh after the drama, when he thought you hated him. You secretly began to make his figurine while he’s asleep. You took notes about what his demon form consisted, the curly horns, the unique cow-esque hoodie, spots on his clavicle, as well as his pants and boots and his long fluffy cow tail, and tried to incorporate it with his slumbering position. Soon, after you finished about 2 painting days and one drying day, when you surprised Belphie with it. You say that you wanted to get to know him better, and hoped they could become closer with this peace offering/gift. Belphie blushes and teared up, making you set the figurine down gently and hug him tightly. Belphie never wants to let you go, because that had to be the sweetest thing anyone had made him.

#obey me #one master to rule them all #obey me headcanons #headcanon #obey me main character #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #artist mc #figurine #you cant rush art #sorry if they are long #i love these bois #anon request #anon response

[make-me-imagine]

Hi! Congratulations on your another milestone Babe!❤️ You totally deserve it, I hope that more and more people know and appreciate your work! ❤️

Can I ask for a male Criminal Mind and Harry Potter (preferably Marauder Era) ship? Im 5’8”, have curly,darkbrown hair and fair complexion. Hair is my biggest insecurity, it's real love-hate relationship

I'm INFP, Slytherin/Thunderbird. I have difficult nature- I have strong personality, I don’t like when someone tells me what to do and yet Im introverted. Some people say Im acting cold, but still love cuddles and small forms of affection. Around those I know I am usually cheerful and even quite crazy tho. I love to give my friends or close family small gifts, often handmade and without an occasion. I’m stubborn and if I have to I will stand up for my rights.

I love drawing and painting and art in general. I’m interested in astronomy and I like to spend night at observing stars. I tend to travel a lot, sometimes with my dog – I have tattooed her paw print on my ribs. I love meeting new cultures and learning languages. I also like writing letters! I get excited about all animals, especially dogs, cows and whales, however I am afraid of ladybugs and spiders. I am addicted to coffee with roasted hazelnut syrup. I listen to a music A LOT, almost 24/7. Usually it's rock and metal, but I like also classical, soundtracks, sometimes even pop and indie. I try to get to know music from all over the world (so if you have anything good I would be grateful for recommendation!).

Once again, congratulations! ❤️ Please take care of yourself and treat yourself today! 6k milestone is A LOT and I hope it shows you how good and amazing writer you are!❤️❤️❤️

Thank you very much, you are so sweet! ❤️❤️❤️

As for a music recommendation one of my fave artists is Brandi Carlile. She is kind of a mix of indi/pop/country. If you happen to listen to her and like it, let me know~

Criminal Minds:

I ship you with Derek.

I think Derek would most suit someone with a "difficult nature". He isn't afraid of a challenge, and never misunderstands or assumes what you mean. He can tell what you really mean in situations where some people think you might be acting cold.

If/when you ever give him handmade gifts, he appreciates them SO MUCH. He loves when people put their heart into gifts. And he always tries to repay you, by either buying you cute little gifts, flowers, or taking you out stargazing.

He loves a variety of music too, so he loves to jam out with you, either in the car, or as you are dancing around your living room.

-

Next ship under cut!

Harry Potter (Marauders Era)

I ship you with Sirius:

I think Sirius would appreciate your love of music, animals, cultures, etc. He doesn't necessarily look into those things, but when he hears you talking about them passionately, he can't help but listen, and he adores how your eyes light up.

Even though he i an extrovert, he likes being around introverts more. He finds you calming, and you never expect too much from him. If you come off "cold" he can see your real meaning behind it. And he loves when your more stubborn side comes out and you stand up to people, he never expected it, and when it does happen he is always like 😳😏

He loves cuddling with you, and is always there when you need him to be.

To many people, he comes off as a "player", but in reality, he is extremely devoted to you. You can trust him more than most people.

^Ben Barnes as young Sirius Black fc.

xx

#anon #ask #ship #ships #ship request #6k ships #milestone ships #<3

[tommyplum]

- tis the saison | tommy/alfie, modern au  for @boundinshallows’ sholomons prompt fest 2019

Nobody much cares for holiday parties, but everybody's got to go to them nevertheless. Tommy Shelby's no exception, much as he would like to be. .

notes: takes place in the same modern au as eggplant peach question mark - maggie

"Tell me one more time that you don't want to go, Tommy Shelby, and I'll not only send Arthur round to drag you there, I'll buy you a Christmas jumper with mistletoe pinned to the hem and sit back and laugh at the thought of you jumping around the room like a scalded cat trying to avoid being kissed on the cock."

"Christ Almighty, Pol." Tommy rubbed his fingers over his eyebrows, using the heels of his shoes -- currently hooked up on the edge of his desk -- to drag his wheeled office chair forward. "Giving me a little too much credit, aren't you?"

"Giving the other attendees of the liquor board holiday party too little, more like it." Polly's voice sounded amused and warm, even over the tinny speakerphone. "Thomas, you know I usually take on party duties, but it simply can't be helped this year. You're going to have to represent for us. It won't be so bad! How many distributors can you have slept with already?"

Tommy felt it was quite admirable that he had the grace to just let silence stretch between him and speakerphone Polly in answer to that question. Pol, however, didn't seem to share his viewpoint on that.

"Oh, hellfire, Tommy! It's a wonder you get any fucking work done at all, I swear to God."

"Look, I'll go, I'll go. I won't like it, but I'll go." He used his heels to push himself away from the desk, drag himself close again, bony knees accordioning up on each approach as he chewed a thumbnail and mentally totted up the likely suspects he'd be running into over fusion dim sum appetizers and rounds of whatever vodka blended drinks were on the themed menu. "Might even make it out of there unscathed."

"You're a horror." Polly paused, and then said, "--Alfie Solomons is going to be there this year. He said since we were clear that it's a holiday party and not a Christmas party, he felt at peace in his devotions with dipping a toe in the secular festivities. He literally said those words."

Tommy grunted, thumping one shoe down onto the floor. "So what? So he's religious. I've seen you twirl a rosary or two in your time, Aunt Pol."

"Shut it. Don't fuck anybody." 

The dial tone followed this warning, and Tommy ended the call on his desk phone. With Alfie Solomons around being the cock-blocking arsehole he'd more than once proven himself to be, Tommy thought sourly, there wasn't much chance of his even being able to disobey Polly's orders.

---

Hour One of Holiday Representation Hell consisted of two tremendously terrible courgette gyoza, a peach-and-satsuma nightmare of a blended drink, and two elderflower ciders in quick succession to rinse out the taste of both. It also consisted of Tommy smiling and nodding as a number of representatives of small labels that wouldn't see next year paraded themselves past him, pressing flesh and telling him their names with voices of great import. Tommy made jokes that didn't land half the time, but watched them all laugh anyway.

Hour Two of Not-Christmas Carnival of Nonsense saw the introduction of wasabi cheese straws (somehow more tasty than the gyoza, and Tommy had one in his mouth at all times through that hour), another cider, and a few shots of green apple soju. Luca Changretta followed him around for at least twenty minutes trying to sell him on fruit wines, and Tommy finally promised to try his blueberry merlot before hiding in the kitchen for the rest of the hour and feeling up one of the servers through her sensible cotton pants. She ate the rest of his cheese straw and he retreated once the coast was clear.

Hour Three of Whatever It Was, the peach-and-satsuma nightmare had become much more tolerable with the addition of most of a bottle of peach schnapps, and Tommy watched a short parade of those small label representatives conga out the back door. 

"What are they called?"

Tommy blinked, raising his eyebrows as he turned and found Alfie Solomons standing next to him, munching a wasabi cheese straw as if it were a stalk of hay and himself the laziest cow in the pasture. "Pardon? What? What are who called? Make sense, Alfie."

Alfie snickered and nodded at the tail end of the line. "They all gave you their names when you glad-handed them, love, and you looked oh-so-terribly interested in each one. I'll give you five pound and a kiss if you can tell me the name of even one of the poor blighters."

"Why would I bother to remember their names?" Tommy said, irritated, and looked around for where he'd put down his drink. "It's a party. Bad manners to expect proper business at a party. If they had any sense they'd give me business cards."

Tommy spun back towards Alfie, startled to find the man's fingers delving into one of the back pockets of his jeans … and extracting a little sheaf of business cards. "You mean these?" Alfie said, then laughed and pitched them in the air. Tommy made no move to stop him, only groused, "The serving staff won't thank you for that, Mr. Solomons."

Alfie made a noise that Tommy would swear he'd heard a high-fantasy tree make in a movie once, and took Tommy's hand in his own -- warm, surprisingly deft, with a crown tattoo near the thumb that Tommy'd somehow failed to notice before -- and brought it to his lips. For one heart-stopping moment Tommy thought the daft bugger was going to kiss his fingertips, but all Alfie did was brush the very end of his nose above Tommy's fingers and intone, "...and you've already ingratiated yourself to the serving staff from the aroma of it, eh, darling?"

Eyes blazing, Tommy snatched his hand back and rubbed it against his shirt. "Pick those up," he snapped, pointing at the cards scattered on the floor. "Really, Alfie. Some fucking manners."

A low chuckle followed on Tommy's heels as he marched away, in search of a fresh drink and maybe some fresh air. His face was feeling awfully hot, for some reason, all of a sudden.

---

Hour Four of the Wonderful Year-End Festivities found Tommy performing his best booze-related trick for a captive and somewhat plastered audience: lopping the cork off a bottle of mid-range champagne with a short saber brought expressly to the party for that purpose. Tatiana shrieked with triumph when he managed to pull off the feat, champagne geyersing from the neatly broken neck of the bottle in dry-scented frothing excitement, and flung her arms around his neck to claim a very wet and vodka-fumed kiss. 

"All Tatiana's idea, I assure you," Tommy told the remaining celebrants as they applauded him and he brandished both bottle and saber around. "In fact she's the one planned this whole party. A round of applause, ay, for Tatiana?"

The gathered people obliged, and Tommy handed off the bottle but kept the saber as he trailed over to the decimated cake in the shape of a squat beer keg and used the sword to hack off some frosting for himself. He bore it carefully outside, using a case of bottled water to prop the door open, and leaned against the railing of the stairway landing to swipe his thumb through the clot of frosting and stick it pensively in his mouth. 

The party hadn't been that bad, all told, apart from that fucking courgette repeating on him and the hopeful looks some of those nameless reps had been shooting him all night. The server girl with the sensible knickers had caught his eye and it was clear she'd be up for it, if he wanted a go. And she was pretty, with curly hair dyed some sort of pale purple and a snub nose and freckles across her dark skin. 

But, Tommy thought bleakly as he bit frosting from his thumb, there was just something … wrong. Something missing. And the thought of ending the night as he'd ended so many others, making the trek back to his quiet, junk-filled flat with a bottle of gin to fall exhaustedly asleep on the settee and wake up to dry toast and jelly, it was … well, it was depressing. And Tommy was getting heartily tired of feeling depressed.

He lifted the saber with the thought of bringing it whooshing down again so that the gobbet of frosting on the end would sluice off, somewhere down three floors to hit the ground, but a hand grabbed his wrist and -- dammit -- here was Alfie Solomons again, peering at Tommy in the dim light. "Steady on, sweetie," Alfie said, "don't want to disappoint the cleaners more than you already have, eh?" He nodded towards the party, now in its decided downswing. "That girl you had as an aperatif has gone off with one of the Young Bolsheviks--"

"Young Turks, you mean?"

"No, red's back in fashion, it's very woke to talk about the evils of capitalism at the drop of a knitted hat these days." Alfie grinned, twisting the saber out of Tommy's unresisting grip and scraping the frosting off on the railing before sliding the sword into his belt.

"Ridiculous," Tommy said, although whether that was about the saber, Alfie's wearing it, or his farcical claim about young people and their politics, he didn't care to draw a bead on. But that hollow feeling had eased, somehow, and Tommy was suddenly in no hurry to get back inside. "You don't look the slightest bit drunk. Have you turned teetotaller, Alfie?"

His companion shrugged, heavy shoulders rolling under t-shirt and plaid. "I don't get sloppy at company hurrahs, love," he said. "Hard to erase that picture when you're back at the grindstone trying to cut deals with suppliers and distributors. I save my getting squiffy for when I'm with friends."

"And you've got some," Tommy scoffed. "Friends."

"Not all the ones I'd like." Alfie reached into the breast pocket of his plaid shirt and pulled out a cellophane bag tied with twine, holding it up by the cinched bit to swing in front of Tommy's face before Tommy took it and opened it, taking out one of the rings inside and laying it in his palm before looking at Alfie, perplexed. 

"What's this?"

"Oh, come on now, Thomas -- I know you Shelbys grew up the ragamuffins on your street, but surely even you, the benighted orphans, had biscuits once in a while? A chocolate finger or two? A fucking Jammie Dodger on the High Holy Days or whatever your kind celebrates when you're not busy moaning and rending your garments?"

Tommy scowled, closing his hand over the bag and -- just barely -- easing up his grip enough not to crush the remaining rings of cookie it held. "High fashion party rings," Tommy said after a moment of studying the one in his palm. Begrudgingly. The damn thing had flower petals as decoration. He looked up at Alfie. "Why on earth--"

--and then he was being kissed, and Alfie tasted somehow of fizzy lemonade and smelled of cake frosting and hops, and his hand was cupping Tommy's jaw (so deft! Who would have thought) and stroking the crest of his cheekbone with one thumb. His mouth is like a peach, Tommy thought stupidly as he breathed and opened up and swayed into Alfie's space. Or maybe a satsuma.

Alfie's lips closed and he smiled, not moving away, staying close with Tommy in his space. "Been wanting to do that all fucking night," he rumbled. "Longer, if I'm honest."

"Make some fucking sense," Tommy said, because damned if he was gonna give in that easily to this. He curved his palm enough that the scalloped edges of the delicate biscuit nipped slightly at his skin and said, "you never liked me. I never liked you. It's a happily mutual distaste we've maintained for each other."

Alfie made a hurt, indignant noise. "You wot! I know for a fact that I've been nothing but lovely to you, sweetie, sheer loveliness on a sodding stick."

"You're in my phone as 'that loser who keeps texting me,' and I'm in your phone as 'how about no.'"

Alfie considered this for a moment. "Aside from that." He laughed and took Tommy's hand, curling his fingers over into a fist until the biscuit he was holding snapped, in one place, then two, then crushed into more pieces than Tommy could tell without opening his hand to look. "Don't tell me you'll let a little thing like that stand in the way of what could be a bloody mind-blowing shag for the both of us, Tommy. After I brought you a little prezzie and all."

"Which you've just ruined."

There's three more." But Alfie looked fainly contrite, letting Tommy unfurl his hand while still keeping his own beneath it. Tommy sniffed and tossed his head imperiously, the smell of sugar seeping up from the warmth of his palm. 

"How about no," Tommy said, and ducked his head, licking up crumbs and icing and petals like a horse nosing around for a sugar cube, licking the gritty bits down onto Alfie's fingers, grabbing his wrist and turning his hand over, sucking down hard on that crown tattoo as he listened to Alfie sucking in his breath like a dying man.

Straightening, Tommy slid his tongue against the roof of his mouth and swallowed, lips parted, eyes hooded as he regarded Alfie steadily. "Did you pick up those business cards like I told you?" he asked, voice low and measured, thrumming in his throat. "Like a good little boy?"

Alfie reached into his back pocket, crumbs and spit smearing against his jeans, and brought out the slightly crumpled wad of cards, holding them pinched between thumb and forefinger. "Mmmm," Tommy hummed, and knocked his hand against Alfie's wrist, sending the slips of cardstock fluttering over the rail as he grabbed the back of Alfie's neck and kissed him, deep and wanting, all thoughts of shame or restraint sent down to the ground three floors under.

A beat passed, and then Alfie growled, the saber clatering against the concrete barrier when he shoved Tommy against the wall, hips crowding in against him, cock thick and promising when he rolled his groin into Tommy's and felt the answering rise there. "That loser, eh?" Alfie muttered, nipping hard at Tommy's jawline. "I'll make you eat those words along with the rest of your biscuits, pet, see if I don't before the night's through."

"You can make me do whatever you want, Mr. Solomons," Tommy said primly, knuckles white as he gripped the back of Alfie's belt, clung to the back of his collar, cellophane crinkling into the nape of Alfie's neck. "Dip your fucking toe into the secular festivities."

"I'll be dipping more than that, Tommy," Alfie said, with a firm thrust that drove Tommy's breath right out of him.

Maybe he'd have to ask Pol where he could find himself one of those mistletoe jumpers.

/end 

#peaky blinders fic #tommy shelby #alfie solomons #sholomonsfest2019 #tolfie #i feel sort of bad for monopolizing the prompts so far #erk #sorry guys

[metalchick19-blog]

The Bowers Gang: Ship #6 - Henry Bowers

Request: Hey! Congrats on 200 followers, you deserve it! Idk if i'm late to the party but if i'm on time can I get a ship? I'm kinda short, blue hair, my outfits mostly consist of leather jackets, vans or docs and red lipstick, I live for plaid pattern skirts and fishnets, I also wear a black bandana as headband a lot, I have a few tattoos (bands and horror movie themed/related) ya girl's also a slut for sunglasses hahah, heart shaped, cat eye, clout glasses that -fun- style, I love going to concerts and I'm a very artsy gal, I love painting on stuff, mostly jackets and clothes in general. I'm terrified of the dark and fights, seeing and listening to people argue/yell triggers my anxiety so that's also a big ass no from me hahah, I love standing up for what I believe in and would do anything to protect my friends and loved ones. I'm kind of a quiet person but when you get to know me nothing will make me shut up hahaha and if you are really important to me i'll basically shower you with love and affection, i'm a hugger lol, I'd like to be paired with Henry pls? 🖤

You were originally slotted to be Patrick’s girl just based off of your physical appearance

He stalked you for weeks on end (and low-key still tries to snake you from Henry on the daily), but was eventually forced to tone it down after Henry officially “claimed” you as his own

The kids of Derry High School don’t understand how you guys are together at all

You’re literally such a ray of sunshine (both physically and personality-wise), and Henry is such a fucking thunderstorm that it doesn’t make any logical sense at first glance  

Or second glance 

... But that thunderstorm loves his blue-haired ray of sunshine (even if he’s too straight-up menacing to admit it)

He stole your black bandana from you the first time you had sex (it’s now the black bandana he wears on his wrist 24/7)

He gave you the stud from his ear (and pushed it through your un-pierced lobe himself) because he couldn’t walk around representing you if you weren’t representing him 

... Somehow got a new stud for himself before school even started the next day, but you’ve never wanted to hear the cringe-inducing story behind that 

Initially found it weird that you paint stuff on clothes, but eventually asked you to paint “Bowers” on the back of all his jerseys (3 total)

He hasn’t noticed it yet, but you also painted a small heart on one just above the “s” 

He’s going to kill you when he notices it 

Just be aware 

Holds your hand whenever you, he, and the guys walk around town at night, because he knows that you spook easily 

But always wants you close to him regardless, because he knows Patrick well enough not to trust him in the slightest

... Which he shouldn’t, because Patrick is dying to get a taste of them fishnetssss

You constantly hit Henry up with tattoo ideas that you think would look good on him

He rolls his eyes like he thinks you’re being stupid, but he lets you draw them on him to see what they’d look like, because he’s genuinely interested (like the undercover nerd he is)

It’s so adorable, oh my god   

He just sits there quietly like a docile, innocent creature and watches intently as you create art on his body 

He spit-washes the “tattoos” off almost immediately, but that’s just because he doesn’t want Hockstetter to see (because he’d know how much Henry must friggin’ love you)

Not gonna’ lie, though, some aspects of this relationship will be really tough for you

Henry is a very angry person, and yelling is just a part of his basic existence, so get your anxiety prepared 

He never tries to trigger you on purpose, but you definitely witness a lot of his snapping at/arguing with the guys, and it can get you feeling a little uneasy 

Tends to try to comfort you in little ways when he notices you’re getting anxious though (after he’s done being furious, of course)

Sometimes puts a hand on your lower back, kisses your forehead really quickly (and semi-roughly, because Bowers), etc.

Basically just to give you a signal that it’s okay in as imperceptible a way as possible 

Generally tries not to have another outburst for the rest of the day when he feels like he’s made you nervous once already, because he truly doesn’t want to be like his Father where you’re concerned (i.e. he doesn’t want you to feel like you have to walk on eggshells around him)

However, the worst incident you ever had was the first time you were present when Henry and the guys were screwing around with someone 

You couldn’t take the intensity of seeing Henry “in his element” (aka: screaming like an animal in someone’s face), and watching the guys shed blood in such horribly violent ways 

It really made you rethink some things about hanging out with them for a while (especially with Patrick, who enjoyed the pain too much), and it threatened your relationship with Henry for a short time

For that reason though, you being with the gang is a signal that no attacks are ‘bout to happen, because Henry isn’t about that life in front of you anymore 

All the kids in Derry breath a little easier when they see your tiny blue head in the middle of the group of boys, because they know all ass whoopings will cease until further notice 

Also Henry loves it when you give him kisses before class, because that means he gets to walk into the classroom with a big-ass lipstick stain on his cheek (which feeds into his god-like bad boy image)

Stole a pair of Gretta Keene’s flower-rimmed sunglasses off her desk and gave them to you because he legitimately doesn’t care about how rude that is 

... But he wouldn’t admit it to you even after Gretta tried to fight you to get them back 

You’re the reason this boy learns how to properly receive a hug 

He tenses up every single time you give him one for the entire first year, but eventually gets the hang of hugging back and putting some feeling into it 

Mostly because you and Belch were the ultimate hug-buddies (how could you not be when you both love hugs?) and he got tired of seeing Belch be really good at it while he was sucking hard 

Legitimately one of the most light-hearted, positive relationships that Henry ever experiences 

You’re so opposite from each other that you’re a perfect fit, and you make that boy happy ‘til the cows come home (and even beyond that)

This was actually a trip to write, so I ship you guys hard

#henry bowers #patrick hockstetter #belch huggins #victor criss #The Bowers Gang #the bowers gang headcanons #it

[rebellect-writes]

[b]Name:[/b] Jess. [b]Age:[/b] 20. [b]How did you find us?:[/b] Don't give me that look.

[b]Name:[/b] Formerly Maddox Sinclair, now Maddox Mackenzie. [b]Nicknames:[/b] [LIST] [*] Mads. [*] Dox. [*] Mouthy. [/LIST] [b]Age:[/b] 30. [b]Date of Birth:[/b] 5/3/1982. [b]Gender:[/b] Male. [b]Sexual Orientation:[/b] Homosexual. [b]Occupation:[/b] Delivery boy for Curious Cafe.

[s][b]Powers:[/b][LIST]He's a Sensitive. That means he can feel the other supernatural beasties unless they’re good at hiding themselves even though he's human. To him it feels like standing near an open furnace if someone’s leaking power, and other times, it’s just a warm breeze against his skin. Push him though, by piling on the pressure, and he’ll pass out from pain and the lack of air. Give him a few hours and he’ll bounce back like any other psychic does. [/LIST][/s]

[b]Animal Species:[/b] Lion. [b]Animal Description: [/b] [IMG]http://cache2.artprintimages.com/lrg/30/3066/8DIDF00Z.jpg[/IMG] [i]Weight:[/i] 380lbs [i]Height at shoulders:[/i] 4 ft. [i]Length:[/i] 9'5 from nose to tail tip. [i]Coat:[/i] Tawny gold. [b]Do you have a hybrid/alpha form?:[/b] Nope. [b]Rank:[/b] Pride. [b]How long has your character been a lycanthrope?:[/b] 2 days. [b]Mindset:[/b] Domissive. [b]Power level:[/b] Omega.

[b]Face Claim:[/b] Trent Ford. [b]Description:[/b] [IMG]http://i48.tinypic.com/6p1c0j.jpg[/IMG] [i]Height:[/i] 5’11 feet. [i]Weight:[/i] 139lbs. [i]Eyes:[/i] Blue. [i]Hair:[/i] Brown with gold highlights. [i]Build:[/i] Pretty lean, taller then he looks and pretty athletic. [i]Visible marks:[/i] [LIST]Maddox has a Gothic cross between his shoulder blades, two dragons curled around the cross its self staring at each other. The only other tattoo he has is a band of music notes curling around his right bicep. As to scars, he has his share. Most aren't that noticeable. [/LIST][i]Style:[/i] [LIST]He’s the type of guy to wear whatever comes to hand, but mainly, it’s a beat up leather jacket, jeans, scuffed up combat boots and a t-shirt of some kind. He just isn’t a fancy type of fellow. He just makes do with what he has. The one thing, Maddox would put before himself, is the pendant around his throat, he's had it all his life and apparently, it was his mothers. [/LIST][b]Special Skills:[/b] He's a good people watcher and handy with a knife. Nothing really special about that is there?

[b]Personality:[/b][LIST]Maddox is hard to describe personality wise, simply because people hear his smart mouth, and either want to strangle him, or love him. He is the type of person to take anything someone throws at him, and simply lets it wash over his shoulders. Though, he will take every chance he can to put his comments and thoughts into the occasion. While he doesn’t show it, Mad is completely bored with the world. He has been on the streets for over fifteen years, and he’s seen something’s, done things that he wouldn’t wish on any other living soul.

He keeps his pain on quiet shoulders, and would rather get up and do things then sit around and heal. He doesn’t seem to like being still for too long; maybe it’s the fact that he was on the streets like an abandoned house cat. He isn't someone to be messed with, because he has stared down vampires looking for food, and bitch slapped a shape changer for waking him up.

Don’t get him wrong, when Maddox says something it is most likely the truth, whether you want to hear it or not. He sees things in people, and can be the perfect voice of reason. This kid is a mess of contradictions, but all you really need to know, he will stand with those that show him respect. While he won’t admit it, he is bi-sexual, he always has been and it doesn’t bother him as much as it did while growing up. His views on the world are plain, ‘Don’t fuck with me, and I won’t fuck with you’.

When it comes down to Bradon, he has a mean streak a mile thick for anything that so much as pisses his mate off. While Maddox never normally loses his cool, he will blow a fuse if Brad is forced into a position that he doesn’t like. He’s very protective of his mate and can read Mack like a book. The saying “Don’t con a con man” comes to mind. All around though, Sinclair is the light to Bradon’s dark side. [/LIST][b]Likes:[/b][LIST] [*] Cats [*] Having a roof over his head. [*] Pissing people off, that pisses him off. [*] Drinking. [*] Being in control. [*] Drawing. [*] Showers, they are amazing things. [*] Chicken and vegetable pie. [*] Pain, to a small degree. [*] A sleepy Bradon all to himself. [/LIST][b]Dislikes:[/b][LIST] [*] Being tied down, it’s a borderline fear. (Though Brad makes it a hell of a lot different.) [*] Drugs of any kind. [*] Dogs (that aren’t on a leash.) [*] Being woken up by annoying alarm clocks shaped like chickens or cows. [*] Cold eggs. Ew. [*] Idiots. [*] Upsetting Brandon without doing it on purpose. [*] Hospitals. They smell of death. [*] People that try to bully him into doing things they want. [/LIST][b]Weaknesses:[/b][LIST] [*] Hot chocolate [*] Brandon, through he won't admit it. Often. [*] Younger homeless kids. [*] He can be too kind for his own good. [*] His smart mouth. [*] His sensitivity at times. [*] He can't read much, just enough to not kill himself. [/LIST][b]Strengths:[/b] [LIST] [*] He’s a good people watcher. [*] Bradon! [*] Keeping secrets [*] His smart mouth [*] Making a way in crowded sidewalks. [*] Breaking and entering [*] Lying to people but at the same time, telling them the truth. [/LIST][b]History:[/b][LIST]Maddox has always been in the system, from the day of his birth; he was dutifully removed from his mother’s cold dead arms, and taken away by the child care officer that had brought in the expecting fifteen year old pregnant girl into the hospital only days before. Brought up in the public foster home, he was always looked at by prospective parents, and always, those parents turned away and found another kid that they wanted.

Young as he was, he didn’t care. The foster home, was his home, everything he knew and loved and also hated. He was always bullied by the stronger kids, and at one point, at the age of seven; one of the care workers made it his personal mission, into making Maddox his personal sex toy. It was the world he grew up in, and he grew used to it after two years, even when his career rented him out to his friends under the guise of day trips. By the time he was ten, he was living on the streets, always one step ahead of the law that always wanted him to go back to his abusers.

Over the next couple of years of turning tricks on the street for cash, doing what he knew what to do. Selling himself for money and protection, stealing and the like, just to survive. He met one guy that would change his life though, for better and for worse. A werewolf that became an older brother to him. Maddox began to pull out of the black pit he had thrown himself into, and came into his own eventually thanks to the shifters help.

They where good friends, and then [i]it[/i] happened and everything else fell apart. His street brother was kidnapped, well Maddox, always one to stand by his friends, followed the things that took his buddy away. All the damned way to the big Apple! A city is always the same, and Maddox quickly found out that he couldn’t do a damned thing to help his friend out of the bind he’d gotten himself in with some pretty pissed off vampires. So he settled for the next best thing, keeping an eye on him from a distance and doing what had to be done, to keep the news coming. He’s not proud of what he did, but he wouldn’t take it back.  

He obliviously didn’t do that good a job in the end though, because there was someone that was stalking him. A cop that had a vendetta against his street brother, Bradon Mackenzie. He wasn’t to know that his bro had killed this man’s brother, all he could really see from the moment the shape shifter stormed into his life was that the man was slowly destroying himself. They fought for a few months, but eventually when Bradon gave him the news that his brothers body had been found, Maddox gave up. He just didn’t have it in him to fight any more.

Brad had an opportunity to save them though and the relationship that they had, they relocated to England and away from everything that they knew to start over in Jackford, England. That was like, two years ago now, if not longer and Maddox is just back to his happy self. So he's never met his parents or known a real family, big deal. It's a new life for him, one with the man he loves no less...And a rag tag bunch of werelions.

Almost six years later, Maddox became a married man and infected. Best christmas ever. [/LIST]

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [813]

“Ellana, may I ask you something?”

“You know, Cullen, that’s very formal of you to do,” Ellana replies.

“You know I’m a somewhat formal person sometimes.”

“That’s fair. It’s just very unusual for you to be formal with me,” Ellana points out. “You’re making me nervous. Are you going to ask me to be best man at your wedding? Highly unusual but I’d accept because of how closely I value you and Evelyn’s good favor of me.”

“That’s rather pragmatic of you.”

“And that’s me.”

Cullen’s lip quirks up momentarily. “That’s fair,” he mimics. “May I ask you the question?”

“You can, and the tension just keeps building from here. What’s the question?”

“Sera and I get called country because we’re from Ferelden. But you and Mahanon are ten times more country than either of us and neither of you ever get called out on it. How did you get that to work out?”

“Oh, that? Way to give me half a stomach ache, Cullen. I was worried it was going to be a very serious question. And now I’m also disappointed that you aren’t asking me to take part in your wedding.”

“In order for me to ask that, there has to be a wedding, Ellana.”

“That was a hint, Cullen. A hint that sailed straight over your pretty blonde curls.”

“It was a hint that I dodged rather expertly, I should think. Is this you deflecting the answer?”

“No, that was me expressing my disappointment at why your question wasn’t the other thing. In answer to your real question, it’s because Mahanon and I don’t act country.”

“I agree that sometimes I might let some country slip out, but Sera is as city born as they come,” Cullen says. “And she gets called country now and again.”

“Yes, yes, but when the two of you act country you act country. It’s like how we all know Bull’s from the Qun and sometimes he does weird stuff that has to deal with the Qun but we never connect the two because he does it in a way that doesn’t seem like Qun at all.”

“You just said a lot of words, Ellana. I’m not sure if very many of them made particular sense.”

“Alright. Well. Here’s an example for you. Bull wears Vitaar sometimes but no one notices or points it out because he wears it so it blends in with the rest of his tattoos.”

“Bull wears Vitaar?”

“See? There you go. Qun but not Qun. Similarly sometimes Mahanon wears plaid but people don’t think country they think typical gay man because Mahanon usually pairs this with doing something different with his hair or yoga pants. Whenever I talk about some good old fashioned farm wisdom it’s mixed in with something not farm wisdom. Like that time we were talking about how to best get chickens into the coop in a timely manner and I slipped in some details about best warehouse stocking practices. It’s gotta be a mix, Cullen. That’s why no one ever associates Mahanon and me with country even though, I do admit, we are very country. Like. Super country. Our mom wins pie competitions and our uncles grow giant vegetables for county fair. Pretty sure that some of our cousins have gotten in trouble with the police for cow tipping. And then got in trouble with their parents for the cow tipping and then being caught cow tipping. I think on of my dad’s uncles has a corn maze.”

“And somehow I’m still country. I’ve never tipped a cow in my life.”

“It’s because you look country.”

“I wear a uniform.”

“It’s the blonde curls, Cullen,” Ellana says. “Sometimes one can’t help the way they look. If it makes you feel any better Mahanon and I were teased as country folk for like, three years in high school.”

“And then what happened?”

“And then our braces came off. Tragic high school transformation story. Literally nothing else changed, though.” Ellana hums speculatively. “Besides, it’s not even a bad thing, you know. When people think you’re country. They generally think you’re slow and behind the times. Excellent for getting them to say things that they wouldn’t say around someone they considered an intellectual equal.”

“That’s very Ellana of you.”

“Please. As if you don’t play it up sometimes,” Ellana rolls her eyes, “I’ve seen you lay on that Honnleath drawl extra thick when it suits you.”

Cullen’s ears turn a touch pink. “I might get a little — petty.”

“That’s Leliana and Josephine drawing it out of you from wherever you buried it,” Ellana nods approvingly. “It’s a good thing. If you want tips you can ask Bull. He’s very good at getting people to think whatever he wants them to think about him. Except for me, of course.”

“Of course,” Cullen agrees dutifully. “Do you think anyone’s going to consider anyone more country than me?”

“There’s Alistair Theirin. Pretty sure he’s way more country than you and he’s embraced that whole heartedly.”

“Sadly he isn’t around for people to poke fun of. And people usually hesitate to mock a king in casual conversation.”

“Damn shame, Leliana says he gets a kick out of it. Grew up to have a very thick skin, she says. Say, did you ever — ?”

“Yes, and no, I’d rather not talk about it,” Cullen replies. “We didn’t exactly meet under the best of circumstances. I imagine I left an incredibly sour first impression.”

“Well. I left a very sour impression on Bull the first time we met.”

“Is that so?”

“So it is.” Ellana nods sagely. “I was throwing up and I thought he was my brother so I told him to hold my hair back. He did hold my hair back but I said some truly embarrassing things to him while dry heaving. It’s a miracle he’s never brought it up again, to be honest. It’s kind of like waiting for the other shoe to drop? But he hasn’t said anything so I’m not going to and I’ll count that as a small blessing.”

#heartsfic #gather your party and venture forth