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#any kind of art darlings... drawing writing etc...

plasmasimagination · 4 months

Note

Hi there! I recently stumbled upon your account and I must say that this is what I was looking for for quite some time. I am interested by your matching up event and was wondering if you're still up for it?

Fandom: Honkai Star Rail (and/or) Genshin Impact

Preference: women

Characters I would NOT like to be paired up with: men

(I am pretty much gay)

I am a cisgender woman, she/her pronouns. ENTJ, Virgo sun, Libra moon, Scorpio rising.

I am androgynous-looking, can easily be mistaken for a dude. My voice is deep and had a slight rasp to it. When it comes to clothes I present soft masc. I am 6', very athletic (as it is a big part of my life to stay active). I have brown eyes and wavy hair that is styled in a short wolfcut with a middle part and curtain bangs. No tattoos, but when I have the money I will get covered in designs.

I perceive myself as a calm and collected person who is more on the quiet and observing side. Which, close ones always tell me, makes me appear intimidating and judging (Scorpio rising). I like to keep my social circle small and trustworthy because I have trust issues. But around my friends I am friendly and always there to help out with the teenage dramas. I would say my top traits are sarcasm, assertiveness, loyalty, and adaptiveness. (Being an ENTJ and Virgo sun say enough about me, but I am softened up by my Libra moon.)

I am a very artsy person, but also very sporty. I am passionate about a lot of things (playing the guitar, drawing, writing, reading, acting, playing soccer, volleyball, training calisthenics, martial arts...) but in this short lifetime I had to choose one, and it is drawing - more specifically, becoming an Architect.

I've never been even close to catching feelings for someone. I've had barely any crushes, none of them real, none of them celebrities, just successful/badass/dangerous/mean women from fiction. I guess that puts me somewhere on the Asexuality spectrum, most likely Demisexual. I want to use my teenage years to work towards building a secure career for myself so that I could eventually spoil and take care of someone who deserves it.

I don't have much preference for looks, despite the fact that I am attracted to femininity, not necessarily someone stereotypically girly, but fem. For me, I need someone who will be able to match my energy and challenge me with playful banter and deep, meaningful talks. Someone who has a strong and unapologetic personality, (I am a sucker for mean fems), but knows when to stop and take a step back.

[Thank you, even if this doesn't get attention, which I completely understand. I will love to see your future works and posts!]

HEYYY DARLING ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ IM SO FLATTERED HIHI (*ˊᗜˋ*)

Anyways as for your matchup....hmhmhm...

Your match is....

KAFKA

OKAY OKAY let's be honest this was to be expected!

Scary looking girlfriend X equally as scary looking girlfriend (both can beat your ass)

I like the power couple dynamic here.

Plus I think she fits your type pretty well hmhm...

Kafka would be quite interested in your hobbies, she isn't very vocal about it but sometimes she just sits in the same room when you're doing something (drawing/playing guitar/writing etc...) and she'll just discreetly pay attention to it.

She also will kind of tease you about it, telling silverwolf and blade how good you are at your hobbies, and she'll intentionally do it in front of you

Chaining it to the one above-She likes showing you off, not only your hobbies...just you in general

She will also vibe with your attitude and find it amusing and definitely match it just as strong.

Also I think that kafka would also have equally trouble to completely warm up to you, yeah shes confident and flirty with people but I dont think she trusts people as easily,but when you guys spend more time together she would actually become quite fond of you

YAE MIKO

Honestly this is a pretty good pair, love it Picasso

I don't think miko is as outgoing and challenging as kafka, but she's there

It's just that miko is a bit more how do I put this ..dominant? Controlive? I know it sounds bad to put her up against kafka but I have a feeling miko is more on the serious dominant side while kafka is more playful, especially with their darling

Though yae miko is quite the person to talk to in moments of need, she's a good listener and gives good advice, she could simply talk&listen with you for hours on end

She, similar to kafka, would definitely match your vibe, just a bit more reserved type of sarcasm for example.

She's sly with it, just how fox's are eh?

Miko would take it slow to become closer to you, as she can guess you're having trouble fully trusting her, and she would definitely be less teasing at the beginning when you guys first met than when you're in an established relationship

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doodle17 · 1 year

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🧿🔮Welcome to the blog weary traveler🔮🧿

Howdy. The names Doodle17, but you can just call me Doodle.

I'm just a girl who enjoys Drawing, Gaming and a little bit of writing on the side. I also really like talking. A lot. So don't be shy to drop a little message in the ol' askbox. I don't bite, promise.

Been drawing for 9+ years and don't intend on stopping. I use the good stuff for drawing. Sketchbook, pencils etc etc. For digital you can see me use the fantastic Clip Studio Paint.

I love games. Video games, to be precise. And though I may post a lot of one fandom, I'm Multifandom. Meaning I post memes, art and other things for any fandom I like, when I like. I love talking about my current interests, but hey, if you find something I might be into, don't be afraid to tell me about. Like I said, I do love talking.

In case you haven't noticed, this blog is run by a half-wolf-girl and a small cartoony dog looking creature. These are my little characters that I use to represent me. They are both me, yes. Dont ask how, they just are.

Christian in Faith, and welcoming of everyone. But, I'm afraid if you outright harass or threaten Christians, or anyone of any faith for that matter, let's do us both a favor and don't bother me, okay?

I'm sorry, but Politics are a big No No here. This Blog is for Art, memes and goofy things. A serious post or two may come up, but I'm trying my best to avoid that kind of thing.

This blog will have a few icky things, like swearing and violence, some traumatic stuff here and there, and some suggestive content. But I can assure you, you will never see me get involved with any NSFW anytime soon. But if any of the above topics still bother you, then feel free to block tags, or just not interact with me at all. I understand.

In case you need anymore info, here's my card.... Oh wait, that's just a coupon for Chick-fil-A... Hrmmm... Oh well.

I also own a Side-blog based on the popular Bendy Franchise if you'd like to go check that out, if you're into that. @ask-the-devilish-darlings

I hope you enjoy your stay here. Just a more few things before you get started are, Reblogs are greatly appreciated. Not saying you have to but, it'd still be nice.

Hope to see you around soon.

-Doodle17💙💜🩵

#Updating my pinned post because I thought it needed some reworking #It's supposed to be mysterious and stuff #But I'm actually a huge nerd :P #Anyways #Hope you guys like the drawings I poured my blood sweat and tears into #I shouldn't have added so much detail to them but I did it cause I felt like it #Doodle88 #my blog #pinned post

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yanderu-deredere · 1 year

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Eun-jeong Yoo, Ryuunosuke Yamamoto, Gavin Byrne with an artist reader who uses them as inspiration in his art.

a/n: thank you so much for the request! just wanted to warn everyone that most of this is gender neutral except the last one with gavin where i use male pronouns/boyfriend to refer to his darling. i did it just cus anon asked for it. hope you guys like and enjoy!

eun-jeong yoo ★ profile

I feel like I mention this a lot when I write about Eun-jeong but he's very insecure about a lot of things all the time. It’s not about his appearance though (excluding his burn scars) but more about what kind of person he is.

Sometimes, his biggest fear is that he looks the same outside as he does inside.

He’s a very lucid yandere where he understands that this obsession inside of him is dark and all consuming, that it’s very disturbing. He knows his urge to hide you away from the world is both good (because it’s to protect you) but also bad (because he doesn’t care about how much it’ll warp you in the end).

That being said, the worst part of it all is the fact that he knows he’s being selfish. That the way he covets you despite understanding that being around him also ruins you.

So, the fact that you can look at him and find something worthwhile, something gorgeous and artistic? It brings him to his knees.

If you draw him or paint him or sketch him and show him, he won’t know what to say. He’ll be flustered, of course, but the words to describe the feelings your drawing evokes don’t exist.

It would probably be some picture of him sitting by a window sill or hunkered over his desk doing paperwork; it’s something mundane and ordinary. Maybe you even drew him looking at you in that way he always does.

To him, he’s some ugly piece of shit. In your drawing, he looks so so beautiful. In his drawing, he looks ethereal as the light from the window shines on him. In your painting, he looks handsome in the dim fluorescent lights. In your sketch, he looks at you with adoration, his eyes soft and kind and gentle.

You show him a side of himself he’d never seen in any mirror and it both breaks and puts his heart together. You’re an angel bringing him salvation.

ryuunosuke yamamoto ★ profile

Ryuu is an artist himself so he understands the struggle of finding inspiration!

He’s never been consistent about creating. He’s always gone through phases where he doesn’t draw at all before suddenly having the urge to draw everything all at once, only to then finish nothing because he can’t find it in himself to pick up a stylus.

He draws anime style. Very manga-esque, very early Japanese animation kind of deal. His art style is very much inspired by original Sailor Moon, Inuyasha, Yuyu Hakusho, Tokyo Mew mew, etc. Growing up with all of that stuff made him wish he could create an anime or a manga that instilled in others the feelings those series instilled in him.

They made him feel not alone. They made him feel like he could conquer the world, that he could grow up and do whatever the hell he wanted to do because Sailor Moon could do it, because Ichigo could do it, because Urameshi didn’t give a shit about anyone else’s opinions and he could do it; so why couldn’t Ryuu?

Of course, that opinion very much got crushed as he grew up and realised that the world wasn’t as full of potential as he thought it was.

Which is why he finds it so baffling that you find inspiration in him, that out of all the people and things in the world, he specifically fills you with passion to do art. He was a nobody who trafficked drugs and ice cream, what about him was so wonderful.

Still, he’d encourage you. He wouldn’t be able to understand, of course, but that doesn’t stop him from finding beauty in your art. Sometimes, he’d look at the way you draw him, without the things he uses to cover up, just him in his most natural state, and wonder how you could make a monster like him look like a masterpiece.

He knows himself that artists always instil a lot of love into their artwork at the thought of you loving him so much that you exert effort and patience and time to draw him or paint him or sculpt him makes him fall even more in love with you.

gavin byrne ★ profile

Unlike the other two, Gavin isn’t surprised. He subscribes to the belief that there’s a higher power out there. Maybe not God (cus the Christians have ruined that for him completely) but there had to be some sort of fate, something that meant there was more to the world than just pure randomness.

After all, something had to bring you to him or him to you, right? You’re so perfect for him, so wonderful, his twin flame, his soulmate, the other half to his heart; there’s no way that was mere coincidence, right?

So, of course he’s not surprised. You’re his muse after all. Something about you sitting pretty, doing ordinary mundane things, maybe even just breathing, brought passion to his chest and energy to his fingertips.

If he felt that way about you, if you could inspire so much love and adoration and creativity in him, why wouldn’t he do the same to you? In fact, if Gavin is with an artist, he pretty much expects it. After all, if you love him like you said you do, he’d definitely have to illicit the same emotions in you as you do in him.

The fact that he expects it doesn’t make it any less awe inspiring though. He’d look at every single piece of art you make as if God himself placed it with his giant glowing hand into Gavin’s hands.

(Which, honestly, is accurate because, if Gavin didn’t know any better, he’d claim you were some higher being blessing him yourself)

Also, he’d totally collect every scrap he can get his grubby hands on. Like, yes, all of the yanderes would do the same but Gavin does it to an insane degree. He’d collect all of them and *gasp* display it at the tattoo shop for all to see.

If you go in there when he’s tattooing a client, you’ll hear him babbling nonsense about your art. Something like:

Did you see that sketch of me? Yeah, it’s on a Chipotle napkin but it’s a fucking work of art, I swear. Yeah, my boyfriend did it. Yeah, he does that a lot. Why did I frame it? What do you mean why, it’s literally a masterpiece.It’s very embarrassing but it’s him and you loved him enough to memorise how to draw his hair, his freckles, the specific way his nose swoops, the way his eyes narrow, the way his lips quirk. How could he not be obsessed with the way you give your love physical form?

#yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere #male darling #male pronouns #eunjeong #ryuu #gavin #drabbles

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darl1ng-rachel · 1 year

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well, i suppose I should tell smth about my blog. nothing special, just fun-facts, maybe you'll we be interested in lol

who i am: rachel s.n. (she/her) | ficwriter, artist, probably roleplayer

my fandoms: fnaf, blueycapsules(!!), sally face, metal family, etc. (i change my hyperfixations regularly)

my kinns: Sally Fisher, Glamrock Freddy, blueycapsules!Michael Afton, Remus Lupin, etc. i'm ENFP

what i'm doing here: mostly drawing fanarts, sometimes writing about my headcanons (my tags: #my art, #five nights at Freddy's, #blueycapsules, #william afton, etc.)

i don't write/talk about: politics, conflicts, any kind of discussions and so on. i'm just fandom person with its funny ideas, so chill and relax

i don't mind: DM's me to talk or to asked me a question (i enjoy chatting, so come on), reblogs my posts and drawings

what i like: headcanons about Afton and his family, reflectios about William's childhood and his relationships with Michael. I DON'T shipp them, i just want to show that William could be a good father

also i love DavePhils (brotp), pls don't beat me. i know this pairing is considered to be abusive, but i love their dynamic and headcanon them healthy relationship

any other fun-facts:

my fav character is William Afton, i know he's a natural bastard, but he's really interesting character to look into closely

i'm not a native english speaker, so i can reply slowly and do grammar mistakes

little Michael must be protected

my drawing style can be changed from art to art cause i'm a beginner artist and my style is just forming

and i have a Discord!

[ Opened for rp-suggestions ] i'm not sure, but we can try

take care, darlings!

#five nights at freddy's #blueycapsules #hello fandom #maybe we can be a mutuals??

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witchthewriter · 2 years

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Hey darling! May I request a ship from Stranger Things & The Maze Runner? I honestly don't know how many posts I reblogged from your account but ig level 2/3 ship is good?

My pronouns are she/her. I’m 20 and bisexual.

Let's start with looks; I'm 5'4, average built, with pale skin, greenish blue eyes, and copper curly hair styled in a shag. My general vibe is vintage/retro femme fatale. High heels and alt looks are my trademark. I've been told I look mean and scary when you first meet me.

Now for personality; I'm confident, flirty, chaotic, short-tempered (might or might not have anger issues), protective, self aware, creative, prideful and reckless. It takes a lot for me to trust people, so I keep my circles small. I got big mom vibes. I'm very well spoken (in four languages, mind you) but I cuss a lot. I'm a literal clown, and the kind of person who will give you good advice but will go dumb when it comes to myself. I can't take things seriously, like, EVER. The levity with which I tackle serious topics gets my friends on their nerves. Ig it's worth mentioning that I'm spiritual and prone to prophetic dreams about catastrophes and deaths?

I'm a Slytherdor, ENTP 8w9, and a Sag Sun, Sag Moon, Scorpio Rising. Can come off as Chaotic Neutral but my true alignment is Chaotic Good.

Hobbies include anything art-related (drawing, makeup, sculpting, etc) dancing, writing, reading, listening to music and baking. I HATE slow walkers, bullies, and condescending people.

Idk if this is too much or too little 💀 jesus christ, ok, That's it. I hope you're having a great day! Thanks in advance♥️

Want one? Here be the rules 🦋🌈

Thank you so much! And thank you for your patience xx Your information was absolutely PERFECT, it made it so easy to ship you. I literally didn’t have to think that hard either-

𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒐𝒏:

✧ Sarcastic ✧ Witty ✧ Self-assured ✧ Confident

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I ship you with Steve Harrington! I think you would hate him at first; his reputation as a popular jock was rampant around town. You hated anyone popular, and hey - it was the 80s. That’s practically where all the stereotypes originated from. So how were you to know that he was any different?

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・Bumping his shoulder into yours and you do it back harder

・ You may think you’re the mum friend but Steve will out-mum you EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.

・Picking you up and dropping you off - alWAYS. His gf will never EVER use public transport if he can help it

・Basically being Dustin’s parents ... and Eddie is like the cool Uncle that takes him off your hands when it’s date night

・ Relationship Tropes:

✧ “The fuck did you do this time??!” (Steve) x “I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING” (You)

✧ Chaotic Dumbass (You, and this isn’t an insult - just a trope!) x Chaotic Dumbass Enabler (Steve)

✧ Idiot Badass x Angry and Impressed By It

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐳𝐞 𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I ship you with Minho!!! You would have such a flirtatious, sarcastic, and banter-ish relationship. Everyone would see through this hate-love thing you first had on; where you would insult each other relentlessly but it was only to hide your true feelings.

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・His pet names for you are, ‘twinkle toes,’ ‘trouble,’ ‘babe.’

・Your chaotic and short-tempered nature would keep Minho on his toes. He loves how passionate you are, and couldn’t see himself with anyone else.

・Being able to stand up for yourself but Minho beats you to it. It’s like he’s always keeping an eye out for you...

・Randomly biting him and he’s gotten so used to it that he reacts with, “love you too babe.”

・ Relationship Tropes:

✧ Rivals > Forced Acquaintances > Reluctant Friends > Good Friends > Lovers

✧ Benedick and Beatrice (from the Shakespeare play, ‘Much Ado About Nothing) please, please look it up. It is my favourite movie and the relationship dynamics are perfect for you and Minho.

✧ Epitome of ‘Shut Up x Make Me’

#ships #let me ship you #open #match ups

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mountain-in-springtime · 1 year

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i was tagged by my darling @loser-user-noaccuser (thanks for the tag love) so let’s go!

(i’m also gonna tag @takenbythelightfantastic @shutupdevvie and @myfriendtheghost but if you see this and i didn’t tag you, feel free to participate anyway!)

what book are you currently reading? i just started shady hollow: a murder mystery by juneau black. i’ve been meaning to read it for ages, so i’m excited to finally get around to it.

what’s your favorite movie you saw in theatres this year? this is really hard to pick because i did see a lot of films this year, most of them screenings of older movies. my top three are probably labyrinth, goodfellas, and rear window. i do feel that elvis deserves an honorable mention as well because i did really enjoy that and it made me cry multiple times.

what do you usually wear? it depends on the day. if i’m at home i just wear athletic tights and a t shirt, but if i’m going to class i’ll throw on a cardigan as well and sometimes wear jeans instead of tights.

how tall are you? i’m 5′3″

what’s your star sign? do you share a birthday with a celebrity or historical event? i’m a pisces! i also share a birthday with johnny cash and victor hugo (and i’m one day away from sharing one with george harrison)

do you go by your name or nickname? they’re pretty interchangeable tbh. some people call me mallorie, but just as many call me mal.

did you grow up to be what you wanted to be as a kid? yes and no. i think that who i am as a person is the type of individual that i’ve always been and wanted to be, but in the tangible sense of a career, lifestyle, etc., i’m still in a transitional period of my life and can’t say yet if i’ll reach the more material goals set by my childhood self.

are you in a relationship? if not who is your crush if you have one? i’m not in a relationship, and i don’t really have any crushes aside from my multiple famous/fictional/tumblr mutual babygirls.

what’s something you are good at vs something you are bad at? ever since i was a child, i’ve been pretty talented in the arts (singing, acting, visual art, etc.) and i did really well in school, but i am absolutely terrible at sports or really anything atheltic.

dogs or cats? both! although i don’t know if i could live without a dog.

if you draw/write or create in anyway what’s your favorite picture/favorite line/favorite etc. from something you have created this year? it’s definitely this (technically unfinished) painting that i did of george harrison at the beginning of the year. i consider it one of my best works to date, and it was done at a time when i was really deep into a beatles phase so i think my love of the band and george really manifested into the work.

what’s something you’d like to create content for? oh my gosh there’s so many things. i’m really big into any kind of pop culture/media so i draw a lot of celebrities that i love and things like that. i’d really like to continue to make art that shows my love of the beatles, but i would like to branch out into making art for some of my other loves like john denver, gvf, and the muppets. i’d also love to give writing fanfic for any of the fandoms i’m in a try.

what’s something you are currently obsessed with? well i’m obviously obsessed with the beatles and gvf, but i also adore john denver, the solo works of all the beatles, the muppets, the simpsons, film (particularly old hollywood and 80s films), and a million other things. i’ve also been hyperfixating on seinfeld a bit lately bc that’s the show i’m currently watching.

what’s something you were excited about that turned out to be disappointing this year? i think every year i convince myself that i’ll make new irl friends and finally have a full friend group or even get into a relationship, but that never really happens much. (although i am thankful for all of the darling friends i have made on tumblr. y’all mean so much to me.) i also went see paul mccartney in concert this year and while it was amazing and by no means disappointing, it didn’t hold the life-changing gravity that i thought it would, and it almost made me a bit sad because it reminded me how much time has passed since the beatles and that the people that i really care about won’t be around forever.

what’s a hidden talent of yours? i’m pretty good at impressions! i can do a lot of them, but some of my favorites are miss piggy, cher, bob dylan, chubby checker (specifically singing the twist), a ton of simpsons characters, jerry seinfeld and jimmy stewart. (the last two aren’t always great but they really make me laugh.)

are you religious? yes, but it’s a bit complicated. i was raised catholic, but i find that i don’t agree with all of the teachings of the catholic church, so now i’m trying to find where i stand in the religious community and where my beliefs and morals fit. it’s something i’m working on and figuring out as i go along.

what’s something that you wish to have at this moment? happiness, love, and peace

#thanks so much again to shae for the tag #this was so much fun #also sorry if i got too emotional or whatever #mal lore

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akinav · 1 year

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Introduction 🍁

Arnav || 18 || he/him

I’m generally an artist by nature but I like to do and am interested in all sorts of other stuff like photography , crafts , cooking , tech stuff , gaming , anime , tv shows , etc.

A lot of my content here would be art and photography related but I might just sneak in a few cooking stuff or fics if I write any hehe

I mostly draw anime and genshin stuff cuz as a college student I really don’t got time to draw much of anything 🥹🥲 so yeah mostly whatever I would post would be smol sketches here and there that I dabble in but I might post some of the big drawings that I have done in the past or will do in the future sometimes so keep a look out 👀

In genshin related stuff i play on the Asia server 🌏 so if anyone wanna hmu to play w feel free :)

My all time fav is (breathes in) KAEDEHARA KAZUHA MY BELOVED SKXNSKDNSJSN

Ehm yes, I absolutely love him 🤌 a proud owner of a C2 triple crowned Kazooman as an F2P

My other absolute favs are Xiao , Ayato , Diluc , Alhaitham , Ayaka , Yoimiya , Childe 🤌

My username is basically can be deciphered in two parts, Aki means autumn in Japanese and I named it so cuz I love the autumn season and more than that I love maple leaves 🍁. The second part is a nickname some of my frnds call me and I love that :))

I also absolutely LOVE ANIME and have watched more than like 250+ so hmu if y’all wanna talk bout any :)

Some of my fav anime’s are : Sword art Online , Fairytail , One piece , Kuroko no Baske , Horimiya , Kaguya sama love is war , Naruto , Disastrous life of Saiki K , My dress up darling , Jojo’s Bizarre Adventures , and many many many more that my indecisive ass cannot think of at the moment 🥹

But yes ! That’s all for now

I’m not really much of a stickler for rules so just be kind and don’t do any wierd stuff on this blog which violate the TOS of Tumblr and we’ll be good :) 👍

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thefanficmonster · 2 years

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i got harshly talked down as a writer because apparently you, who is younger than me, is a more better writer than me, who is taking creative writing as a college course, could ever be

i have nothing against you, i have to admit that you are a good writer

but please, tell your fucking fans to calm the fuck down

i know i make spelling errors sometimes and i get corpse's and other streamer's personalities "wrong" and you do them so much better apparently

but please all those unwanted "constructive" criticism from your readers is not making it easy for me to fight depression and to have motivation to continue writing and pass my course

i'm not trying to be a better writer than you and i'm not saying that i'm better

just like artists with their different art styles, writers have different writing styles; yours and mine are very different

you're a great writer, the fact that you're so much younger than me amazes me and it makes me proud as a writer

but as a fellow writer, please, put your fans to a leash and calm them the fuck down

you don't have to show this message in public if you don't want to, i went anonymous for the reason that i don't want your fans to see more reason to come after me

but please, if not as a fellow writer then as a fellow human, have mercy on me and my mental health

i just wanna be left alone... is that too much to ask for?

Ok, so, I've read this a hundred times by now and am yet to pick my jaw up off the floor or wrap my brain around the fact that someone would do this.

Hello, darling. I'm really, really, truly sorry you've had to experience this sort of disheartening from my fans. I had no idea there was ever such a thing going on and I never thought someone would go as far as to compare other writers on here to me, let alone diminish other people's work with mine as a reference.

I don't know who needs to hear this but I'll say it and I fucking mean it: DON'T EVER COMPARE WRITERS OR ARTISTS OR ANY CONTENT CREATORS FOR THE PURPOSE OF DIMINISHING THEIR WORK.

I don't support, in fact, I'm horrified that my fans, people I think so highly of and love so dearly would do such a thing.

If you've been on my blog long enough you know me as a person and if that's the case you'd know that I'd never approve of something like this being done! I never thought I'd be so disappointed in some of you.

Guys, I understand that you appreciate my work and I can't thank you enough for that, but that doesn't mean you can do this! All content creators put their heart and soul in what they do and that's what makes every fic, drawing, edit, etc. so special. Every work of art is a reflection of the artist and I hope you realize that when you're insulting the work, you're doing plenty of emotional damage to the person who created it! Constructive criticism doesn't revolve around putting people down nor does it involve comparing two or more people's works when they were born from a completely different mind and soul.

RESPECT CONTENT CREATORS OF ALL KINDS: WRITERS, ARTISTS, EDITORS ETC.

And if you, Anon, would like to reach out to me in private so I can deliver a more personal apology, please do so. I can't express to you how sorry I am that you've had to experience this and if there's any way I can help besides this please let me know. My DMs and inbox are always open

~ Vy

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amaya-writes · 2 years

Note

Oh this seems fun! Can I request from the SFW list: J, L and NSFW: S with Obey Me's Simeon, Raphael, and Mammon with a demon!reader? I was listening to AmaLee's cover of Voracity from Overlord and man I adore Albedo. So maybe a lady demon with feathered wings? Thank you!

Ask 26 for the Game: The Art of Seduction (Masterlist)

J - Jealousy

L - Love (like confessions or love language, etc.)

S - Seduce (you/they seduce the other)

Notes: This req gave me very Zuhair Murad Haute Couture 2013 vibes if the white was replaced with black. Also, I didn't do Raphael because I haven't met him yet in the game.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI!! Simeon's a virgin, handjob, sex in a public area, oral (m receiving), mentions of gambling and poker

Characters involved: Simeon and Mammon

Female reader, you/yours

Simeon

A sigh fell from Simeon's lips as he shuffled through the pages in his hands before inevitably putting them down with yet another dejected sigh.

He was facing writer's block. And not just any writer's block but the kind that made you question your skills and wonder whether your writing really mattered in the first place.

But then his gaze raced around the library around him, settling on the booth before him that was occupied by a far too familiar demon.

Simeon hadn't taken you for the type to spend your Saturdays at the library, especially not with the way you seemed to have an allergy to studying.

That, paired with your tendency to bother others, had left Simeon with several eventful Devildom History classes and a class partner who brought out a side of him he would often be scared of.

"Oh. It's you."

You seemed almost amused at his acknowledgement, leaning forward with your chin in your hand and head titled in that mock-innocence way you loved.

"That was quite an underwhelming response, darling."

Your retort made him snort as Simeon leaned back in his seat, only speaking again once you had left your table to join his booth and sit across from him.

"What are you working on?"

Simeon shrugged at the question, pushing the pile of pages towards your end of the table.

"It's a romance tale, one that I'm quite proud of."

"But?"

There you went again, seeing through all of his acts and getting to the point before Simeon could even think of putting on a facade.

Yet another sigh tumbled from his lips, but this time it was paired with a small smile due to your persistent ways, one that had him throwing his head back with closed eyes as he spoke his mind.

"I can't seem to get a proper ending."

You simply hummed at his response, following the sound with a shuffling of pages that told him you were reading his work, yet even then, Simeon found himself feeling a sense of calmness rather than the usual panic at having an unfinished piece be scrutinised.

You took your dear time skimming through the five pages of an eloquently written romance tale that could make anyone's heart race, yet your contemplative silence was quickly replaced with that mocking giggle he hated so much.

"What?"

Simeon was far too annoyed as he looked back at you again, noticing how the simple question only seemed to heighten your amusement.

"Oh, nothing. I just think it's amusing how you're trying to write about something you never experienced."

He could practically feel the malice you exuded as you sent him a small smile, one that was painted with the lure of an argument, which, as always, Simeon found himself giving into before he could stop.

"What is that supposed to mean."

"Well-"

You slid across the booth as you spoke, drawing Simeon's attention to those big fluffy black set of wings you adorned that you seemed so proud of.

"-you're an angel, aren't you?"

"So?"

You came to a stop right beside him at the word, with your body feeling a little too close for Simeon's liking.

"How would an angel ever know anything about the sin of lust?"

Oh.

A light blush dusted Simeon's cheeks as watched your hand trail across the table until it was resting over his.

The action him gulp as the angel tried to stop himself from thinking about unholy things that seemed to constantly plague his mind when you were around.

"I could show you."

His eyes whipped away from your joint hands to meet your gaze, noticing how you were leaning close enough for your chest to barely brush against his arm.

The feeling made his sight sink to your lips, and then lower and lower until Simeon had to physically force himself to turn away before he started thinking about whether the skin on your chest looked that soft too.

"What- no. It's a sin."

You let loose a small giggle at his reasoning, with the sound making him turn back to you like a moth to a flame.

"If you go all the way."

You titled your head further towards his only stopping once your lips were hovering so close he could kiss you if he simply puckered his.

"For you, my dear, a little taste would be enough."

The words were enough for Simeon to finally give in and seal his lips against yours.

You tasted like cherries, smoke and the promise of sin.

Like all the things he had been warned against for thousands of years, and all the things he had secretly found himself pondering over for just as long.

Simeon knew you were a demon, yet somehow, as you tilted your head for your lips to mould against his perfectly and reached out to nibble on his bottom lip, he couldn't help but feel like you were the most heavenly thing he had ever felt.

Your hand moved away from his to trace over his arm and neck before sneaking into his hair and lightly scratching his scalp in a way that had Simeon groaning in your mouth.

The sound only urged you to continue, with your wings spreading to hide the two of you away as your other hand dropped to rub small circles into his inner thigh.

It was then that you broke the kiss, leaning back in to steal another peck before almost completely pulling away from him with a small smile.

"Say it."

Simeon gulped at the words, taking a moment to genuinely contemplate the situation before he finally gave in.

"I want you. I want you to show me."

His words were exactly what you asked for, but they seemed enough for your lips and hands to once again return to him, this time with your hand trailing further than his thigh.

Simeon had lost track of how much time passed before you pulled away from him with a wink and slid to the other end of the booth to return to your table. However, as he watched you saunter away he couldn't help but feel himself smile as his shaky hand reached for his pen again.

"I hope your story goes well."

But this time, the story he would write would be about a demon whose talk was almost as intoxicating as her walk, and how she had stolen the innocence of an angel, and with it, his heart.

Mammon

He was winning. Of course, he was.

You might have been the supposed queen of the casinos downtown, but a couple decades of gambling would never amount to the avatar of greed's skill. Especially when he was serious.

Yet as he leaned back in his seat and let out a mocking chuckle, Mammon found himself feeling grateful that he gave in to the lure of witnessing your skill firsthand and stalked up to the poker table at the back of the casino before he could stop himself.

You had put on a good fight, both of you knew as much, but after an hour or so of playing he had finally sealed the deal with a simple roll of the dice that had you letting out an annoyed groan and handing over all of your chips.

However, Mammon should have known better than to think poker was the only thing you were looking to win over that night.

"Won't you let me congratulate you, love?"

The way you said the name made a shiver roll down his spine as Mammon watched the dealer leave the private room, noticing how you left your seat and stalked to his end of the table the second the room was left to the two of you.

"What are you-"

"Isn't it obvious, Mammon?"

Your hand reached forward to play with his unruly white strands and lightly tug on them in a way that turned him into a blushing mess. So much so that Mammon didn't notice your other hand had trailed down his body until he suddenly felt you caress his thigh.

"Do you do this with all of your opponents?"

"No, only the legendary avatar of greed."

You dropped to your knees as you spoke, making Mammon gulp and subconsciously fidget with the sole chip he clutched in his hand for good luck.

The sight made you smile as you leaned forward, moving up to lock your lips with his for a moment or two.

The way your lips caressed his and tongue spilled into his mouth only urged Mammon to give in and quickly drop one of his hands down to the zipper of his pants while the other one rested in your hair and pulled you further against him.

You let out a small sigh as you felt Mammon nibble on your bottom lip, but pulled away the second you heard his pants unzip.

"Here's your victory gift, love."

Mammon let out the last of his salacious groans as he watched you shuffle back on your knees and fix his pants, choosing to tug you up until you were seated in his lap sideways with his arms wrapped around your frame and tongue down your throat.

You couldn't deny the way your hurt after your previous actions, but you didn't mind the pain. After all, this had been your plan all along. The final nail in the coffin that would let you grab Mammon's attention and make him yours.

"Congratulations, Mammon."

Mammon might have entered the casino for a quick gamble that night, but he found that he had won something so much better than that. He just hoped you played to stay.

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littlemisslipbalm · 3 years

Text

“you make me so angry sometimes”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He snickers, “Y’like it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S’a little rude.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seriously. What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t see it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So which am I?” She widens her eyes.

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

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

He laughs. “Thanks,” he drawls out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re late!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do not,” she warned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve got it,” Y/N says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s my job to touch you, Harry.”

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

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

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

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

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

He nods again, muttering “Fair, fair.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pauses again and she continues to work silently.

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

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

“Pardon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop that,” She muttered.

“Stop what?” He smiles wider.

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

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

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

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

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever, dude.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry hums and unclenches it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lisa nods, “Apologize.”

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

Lisa smiles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He types back: “Of courseeee”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” he exhales.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yet the effect is similar,” she muses.

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

“Effect?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which part?”

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

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

“You know, so why don’t you?”

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

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

“And what if I don’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nick stays quiet, taking a drag of his cigarette.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I really am sorry,” she whispers again.

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re stubborn,” she notes.

“So are you,” he counters quickly.

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

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

“That’d be nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Passion.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry giggles and scratches his nose against his index finger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great. You?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harry,” she sighs contentedly.

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

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

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

“What?” Harry laughs, confused.

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

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

“How are you?” She continues.

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

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

“The one who’s obsessed with me?”

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

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

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

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

“Oh shut up!” She’s quick to reply.

“So you do?”

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

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

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

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

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

“No one said anything about nudes!”

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

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

“Aww, you’re flustered,” She coos.

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

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

“Because you called me,” he says confidently.

“I call everyone.”

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

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

“Or does it?”

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

“Yes.” She smiles.

“Yes!” He repeats happily.

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

“See you soon, Harry.”

“Not soon enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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monoxiid · 3 years

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can i request for first date headcanons for any blue lock boys of your choice 🥺 im so glad more people wanna write for it

of course, honey! ^^ ❤️ it's true that blue lock content is rare 😔— anyway, thankchu for requesting! hope u like the characters i chose :›

⋮☰ ┋ 𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 : headcanons about the first date of some blue lock characters ⌕

⋮☰ ┋ 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 : Bachira Meguru、Nagi Seishiro ⌕

⋮☰ ┋ 𝐓𝐇𝐄̀𝐌𝐄 : fluff ⌕

⋮☰ ┋ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 : probably a lot of mistakes of all kinds, lightness of content? ⌕

(well, help me to find an appropriate aesthetic-)

⠀⠀‘ ℬ𝒶𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓇𝒶 ℳℯℊ𝓊𝓇𝓊 ’ :

┃Meguru will be so excited!! You'll probably be his first girlfriend because of ... you know, his somewhat complicated childhood. Obviously, to be his partner, you would surely be someone who accepts him despite his faults, and who recognizes his qualities. He will be infinitely grateful to you for that, and the first way to show it to you will be to take you to its favorite places in the city!

┃The dark haired boy is an energetic person, naturally he will push you to be the same, pulling you out as soon as he can. He will introduce you to his friends -especially Isagi- with this proud smile on the lips. Meguru feels happy to have a girlfriend to take care of, to play video games with, but also to show off his football skills!

┃Yes, a lot of football dates. He won't hesitate to tell you if he thinks you're not good with a ball, thanks to his honest self, but it is with patience and pleasure that he will teach you how to play.

❛❛ And this is another goal from the striker Bachira Megury, what a man!!!

—I leave.

— (y/n) no—! ❜❜

┃He will not show the same enthusiasm to follow you in your own activities, but to thank you for agreeing to stay with him, he will stay with you as well. He will try as much as he can to be curious, to ask questions and to be interested in what you do, your hobbies ...

┃For an artistic s / o, he will obviously be titillated, his mother does art and it is sure that Bachira is no less creative than her. I can see him accompanying you in your painting sessions, or posing as a model for one of your drawings -not too long, though, he's a teenager who likes to move.

┃For someone as athletic as him, he will be equally happy. He will absolutely learn to play the sport you practice, go to your performances, matches etc ... and watch your training, the first to cheer you on without shame! If it's something like dancing, he'll totally be the type to carry you and turn with you in his arms.

❛❛ You see? I do the same as you!

— Ahah, you should think about converting to a dancer, then!

— I don't think that's a good idea ... Wait a minute!

— I was jok—! ❜❜

┃If you do things like team sport, he'll be more in his comfort zone, and learn to do like you faster! He will get to know your team, play with you, learn the rules...No matter what sport you play, he will act the same, with interest, because you are his girlfriend and he want to be there for you, with you.

┃If you don't even play sports, or you don't really do activities that he will be comfortable with, then maybe even better! It will be an opportunity for both of you to discover new things together and to test new experiences, without one to teach the other, just the two of you at the same level. It seems funny, isn't it?

┃The first date will probably be chaotic, Meguru will take you to any place that crosses his mind, and leave the unfinished behind, but all he wants is for you to familiarize yourself with his world, and to familiarize himself with yours.

⠀⠀‘ 𝒩𝒶ℊ𝒾 𝒮ℯ𝒾𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓇ℴ ’ :

┃👏date👏inside 👏

┃For the first time, it will be really simple, probably Seishiro pulling you into his house after school. And cuddles, that's all. Not even video games, not even televisions, screens, chatting, just the two of you cuddling on his bed. And always a nap that could take time.

┃Take advantage of Reo's money? Take advantage of Reo's money. But only sometimes, because Nagi is never for expensive and luxurious things. He prefers sofa to caviar, logical coming from someone like him.

┃But, being a soccer fan, it makes sense that if you ask him, he won't refuse to come out to shoot the ball a bit. He's not going to take it easy with you, though. If he's easier to block, it's only because of his incredible laziness, sorry.

┃As for your hobbies, he will only be interested if you mention them, he will not join you -or rarely- but will accept with pleasure to watch you. You are his girlfriend, he will make exceptions.

┃But the majority of the time, your dates will consist of you finding yourself on the couch, arms in each other, on your phones, talking to each other, even if it can end in a monologue. He's not very talkative, but absolutely loves it when you're having a conversation on your own without necessarily responding. He could listen to your voice for hours, and even fall asleep more easily with it.

┃If you like video games, he will be happy to play with you. He could be a bad player if you win, but he still enjoys these common moments that you both have. Obviously, he will be the first to taunt you if you win.

❛❛Oh, I won again. Strange, I thought you were the best at this game, (y / n) ...

—Sh-shut up! I'll take back control!!

— Ahah, of course, darling. ❜❜

┃He doesn't care that you don't want to go out, he will always agree with you on this point but sometimes he doubts himself and thinks that you would have had enough of him, who never takes you in places as fancy as Reo could, so sometimes he'll invite you to a restaurant. But it's not hard to see that he's not in his element, and you should quickly figure out what's going on. Seishiro will be relieved to hear you say that you don't care about the superfluous, that what you love is to be with him, no matter where you are.

❛❛ Oh my god, you are so sweet. I dunno what to say. ❜❜

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #meguru bachira #bachira meguru #bachira meguru x reader #meguru bachira x reader #nagi seishirou #nagi seishirō #seishiro nagi #seishiro nagi x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #🎐.bookstore

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killemwithkawaii · 3 years

Text

Announcement: October Event! 🎃🍁🍬🔪

Hello, my darling kouhai~

I hope all of you are doing well and looking forward to the upcoming spooky season. I know I post a lot of fluff and spice on this blog, but I think it's time all the fresh new kouhai are made aware that I don’t call myself “Killemwithkawaii’ for nothing~ October gives me an excuse to change things up a little, so I will once again be participating in Goretober this year. This is your official heads-up about the change in content:

The majority of content posted during October will feature my S/Is, OCs, SF characters, and/or [Y/N] in graphic, violent, disturbing and/or grotesque situations- and you, the audience, will have some major say in what those situations are! Please feel free to send in prompts for gore/horror you’d like to see me depict, since I won’t be using a specific prompt list for goretober. Instead, I’ll be referencing multiple lists, as well as your suggestions, and drawing whatever strikes my fancy each day. Please read my ask box and writing rules before submitting your requests.

(If you'd like to see the art and to get up to speed on all the shenanigans from last year, you can check out the masterlist here.)

For any of my followers who may become concerned for my mental health or physical safety during this time, please rest assured that i am in no way a danger to myself or others and am not encouraging the actions depicted. The events that will take place on this blog during October 2021 are all in good fun, so please rest assured that your Senpai is safe and sound! ^^

I won’t be posting any screamers or jump-scares, but only very long posts will be put under a ‘read-more,’ so please look through the blog at your own discretion. I WILL NOT BE OFFENDED IF YOU UNFOLLOW OR EVEN BLOCK ME TO AVOID TRIGGERING CONTENT!! I know many of you follow my blog to find a distraction, and I completely understand if you need to skip all of this stuff for your own mental well-being.

The following is a list of trigger warnings (in alphabetical order) for things i might be posting about during this event, though triggering content not included on this list may appear and tags will be added accordingly. All of my goretober prompt art will be tagged as #goretober2021. Please block any of these tags that may trigger you, and let me know if you see I’ve missed a tag or if you would like to request a tag to be added to the list. (all tags will begin with 'tw'):

-Animal death

-Blood

-Body horror

-Bondage

-Cannibalism

-CNC (Consensual Non Consent- any scenarios with this will have a lot of mentions of it being pretend, having a safe word, previous discussion of limits, the participants having fun, the dom checking in, etc.) ex: two willing participants acting out a kidnapping, roleplaying being hunted down by a 'slasher', etc.

-Death (including homicide, suicide, accidents, natural death, etc)

-Disembowelment

-Dismemberment

-Drug use (including tobacco, alcohol, marijuana, sedatives, psychedelics and hard drugs, implied or explicitly used)

-Eye trauma

-Gaslighting

-Impalement

-Injury (major and minor)

-Kidnapping

-Necrophilia

-Needles

-Organs

-Religious sacrilege

-Self-harm

-Somnophilia

-Stalking

-Suicide

-Surgery (major and minor)

-Torture (Physical, emotional and mental)

-Unreality (feeling you are unreal or doubting the truth of reality, trouble with memories, mentions of multiple realities or universes, etc.)

-Unsanitary (bodily fluids, unwashed hands, dirty environments and generally not-clean things… just anything that might be considered kind of gross)

-Weapon (including knives, guns, improvised weapons, etc.)

-Yandere (Generally unhealthy behavior toward a love-interest. These posts may contain dubcon and other more extreme yandere themes I don’t usually post about)

—-

The vibe of the blog will be back to normal starting in November. I won’t be posting for general ficlet prompts or taking on new commissions during October, but will continue working on those that I’ve already accepted and will be (planning on) opening a few new commission slots on November 1st.

If you would like to treat me to a little somethign during the event, you can support my redbubble shop or buy me a ko-fi here c:

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you're forward to having some 'killin' with your 'kawaii' very, very soon~

#K.E.W.K. speaks #goretober #goretober2021 #tw blood #tw weapon #tw unsanitary #tw yandere #IM GETTING SO HYPED AAHHHHH

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ghoulishbehaviour · 2 years

Note

A, B, J & Y for the mundane asks🥰🥰

Thank you so much for these darling ✨❤️

you know the drill:

A - Art: Do either of you do some kind of art? Music, drawing, writing, baking, etc. Do you make gifts for the other?

Casanova: He draws and paints! He mostly keeps his artwork to himself but will give me sketches of me if he happens to draw any. 🥺

Jack: He doesn't really do art but he likes to write this journal though. It's nothing fancy, he just writes things up to plan and clear his head sometimes. Him letting me share a rum bottle is a gift tbh.

Cowboy (before ya'll freak out, this is just good ol' platonic friendship for now): Cowboy loves doodling and he mostly makes doodles of horses.

All of them love to sneak bites of whatever I'm baking and watch me bake but don't actually bake with me.

B - Breakfast: Do you two have a specific breakfast ritual? How about favourite foods?

All: no specific ritual but making sure we eat together is important. Casanova loves his fruits, his mornings are ruined unless he gets some cut-up fruit for breakfast. Jack loves home-made bread. Cowboy's favourite thing is bacon and eggs but it's a rare treat, gotta keep those arteries from getting clogged ;)

J - Joyful: What makes you and your partner(s) laugh? Any inside jokes?

Casanova: we literally laugh at the dumbest things and as long as inside jokes go: Magdarine. It's a nickname he's given me and even though it isn't exactly a joke, it's a funny memory including mandarins and some bad juggling.

Jack: just being around him makes me laugh, he's so fun to be around <3 Inside joke: Every inside joke we have seems to have to do with happenings that've occured on visits to Tortuga, that place is never boring 🍾

Cowboy: We have so much fun together and the banter seems endless. Inside joke: Blaze and Bandit. An incident involving two way too confident riders and very fresh (used to describe a horse that is full of energy) horses. Any mention of it makes us crack up. Also comes in handy when we want to comment on someone's horse without making it obvious: "That horse's just like Blaze/Bandit."

Y - Yay: What's considered cause for celebration? How do you celebrate?

All: We celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, Midsummer's eve, Halloween and Christmas. We usually buy something a tad fancier than normal to eat and drink and just enjoy the celebration with a bunch of friends. These things are usually very lowkey, low stress.

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writings-of-a-hufflepuff · 3 years

Text

Summer Nights: Part 3

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x Overweight/Plus size Female identifying Reader

Series: Summer Nights

Warning: Fred’s death, the series will mention issues such as guilt, grief, etc. + Chapter specific warnings: guilt, self-blaming, trauma, scenes of magical healing, mentions of past childhood fatphobia/body shaming

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff (formerly imaginesofeveryfandom) aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Summary/Request: You’d always had brief glimpses of Charlie Weasley throughout your life, but despite your closeness with the rest of the Weasley family and your friendship with the Weasley Twins, you had never officially met. Until Charlie Weasley decided to take the summer off from his work as a Dragon Keeper at the Romanian Reserve and come back home, to the Burrow, that is.

Notes: Gif is my own, using my art of Charlie Weasley which you can find on my art blog @artisticwarnug here. If you use please make sure you credit me and my art blog properly, that the ownership is clear as it is my own art and I would hate for it to be unclear that I made it <3 x

Prologue / Part 1 / Part 2

Dinner that night was a riotous affair. You, six Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione all crammed in around a table, reaching for the amazing food that Mrs Weasley always made. Shoulders bumped against each other, the volume reaching extraordinary heights, but as you sat there you couldn’t help but smile. This felt right. Being around all these people. So welcome. Watching the way Ginny looked up to Charlie and the way Ron and Harry joke around, while Hermione rolled her eyes at George. You’d often felt alone since Fred’s death, a distance seemed to exist in your mind between yourself and the Weasley’s, a gnawing guilt. While you lived with them there were very few moments like this, one’s where you felt like yourself again.

As you look around the table with a smile, your eyes catch Charlie’s. A soft, small smile, shy, lifts at the corner of your mouth and you're delighted to say that Charlie smiles more with his eyes than anything else.

When you go to bed that night you think perhaps it will be a night in which you will fall asleep easily, in which the memories won’t haunt you, in which the guilt that settles like a stone in your stomach will ease...that is a foolish belief you realise rather quickly. Your head rests against your pillow as you stare at the ceiling.

You toss and you turn, twisting this way and that. You lie on your side for a moment, arm curled beneath your pillow, before flipping onto your back and then your front before going back to your back. You try sleeping with your head at the other end of the bed, maybe you’ll trick your brain that way. It doesn’t work. You try every trick possible, but you just can’t sleep. The frustration is clouded by other thoughts, intrusive ones, the ones you try not to dwell on because you can’t change the past and you can’t bring him back. You don’t have that kind of power, although sometimes you wished you had a time turner, you might go mad, but maybe, in the process you could bring one of your best friend’s back. Maybe you wouldn’t fail him this time.

You lie there trying desperately to calm your mind, to silence your thoughts, to sleep, for what seems like hours. In truth it can’t have been more than an hour before you decide to just forgo all the tossing and turning and potter downstairs to make a warm cup of something and maybe nab a biscuit or two.

The Burrow is eerily quiet at this time of night, the lights are out, the stairs creak as you pad down them, and a chill has you grabbing the knitted throw blanket from the living room on your way to the kitchen. There was never a shortage of blankets at the Burrow. Something you could thank Mrs Weasley endlessly for.

You wrap yourself up as tightly as possible, the blanket a soothing weight across your shoulders, before putting the kettle on the stove. Despite magic being at your disposal, you always preferred to make hot drinks whether coffee, tea, hot chocolate or otherwise, the muggle way. Working with your hands, going through the motions of creating something whether food, drink, art or something else entirely, helped you calm down more often than not. You suppose it was very Hufflepuff of you, doing things the muggle way, doing things the homely way.

You look up before he’s even at the entrance to the kitchen, you hear the footsteps softly pad down the stairs, the creek of an old floorboard, the quiet shuffling of clothes and a soft sigh of frustration. You didn’t know who you’d expected, Charlie, wasn’t it though. Perhaps Ginny or maybe Ron or even Mrs Weasley.

The tattooed dragon that had previously been on his neck had moved, as magical tattoos are want to do. It was now laying across the other side of his neck, nearer to his shoulder, barely peeking from his sleep shirt, sleepy and annoyed looking. You wondered if it wanted to sleep but couldn’t because of Charlie’s alertness. You’d never given much thought to wizarding tattoos, but you suppose they must have some sort of personality or thought process or....something. Why else would they move? You supposed that they might work like wizarding portraits, perhaps the dragon had been a real one, its likeness etched into his skin.

His hair is out from the tie it had been in during the day, loose around his face and a sort of bird's nest that screamed ‘i’ve been tossing and turning for a while now’. During the day he’d looked so confident, put together, like everything was okay, but here, in the dark of the kitchen, with only a few little lights to provide a warm glow, he looked haggard. He looked how you felt.

“Would you like something to drink?” You keep your voice soft. Partly knowing that the walls in the Burrow were thin, not wanting to wake the others, and partly because it didn’t seem right to speak loudly or even speak at your normal volume right now.

He pauses for a moment, taking in the kettle on the stove that’s begun to whistle quietly, thanks to a well placed muffling charm, the blanket across your shoulders, the bags underneath your eyes. He blinks before nodding his head towards you in confirmation, a small upturn at the corner of his mouth, a polite smile not more and not less. It cannot compete with his earlier bright smile during the day.

“Tea, please, love.” You grab a tea bag and another mug, making both your own preferred hot drink and his mug of tea. Only stopping to ask if he had sugar in his tea, for him to respond with 3, and you to not comment further despite knowing his mother would probably exclaim that 3 was 2 too many.

You carefully hand him the mug, not wanting to spill a drop, fingers brushing against his. You note his hands are rougher than most wizards, years of hard work will do that. Most wizards and witches have soft hands, skin that only ever touched a wand. The Weasleys are some of the few you knew who relished in hard work and manual labour, some things magic helped with like chopping vegetables, but other things like collecting eggs or planting fruit in the garden seemed to them more suited to their hands. Like you they seemed to enjoy the calming nature of going through the steps, of grounding yourself with the world around you.

You sip at your drink and study the grooves in the table, the different grains of wood, the stains and the marks. Some you know the story of. Like the burn that was caused by Ginny playing with Arthur’s wand at the age of 5. Others are the sorts of stains and marks that come from a family using it every day, from children playing and drawing and existing.

Charlie clears his throat and you lift your eyes to his, he looks a little sheepish, “Sorry, if this is a bit...if you don’t want to talk, but can I ask why you’re not in bed?”

The truth is that you’ve barely known Charlie a couple of days and perhaps normally you’d be reluctant to talk about anything personal, about nightmares or your guilt or your feelings. But, Charlie isn’t a complete stranger. He’s a Weasley and there has never been a Weasley you couldn’t talk to, even Percy who could be and had been an arse in the past. Even when he wasn’t around, the other’s talked about Charlie, their darling boy or their amazing brother. If you knew one Weasley you inevitably felt like you knew the rest even if you’d never met. Maybe it was that he was a Weasley, that he was Fred’s cool older brother, or maybe it was that you were lonely and fed up of hiding it all...that you knew him the least and it seemed easier to talk to someone who’d understand and yet didn’t know you well enough to push too far. Or maybe it was just that Charlie Weasley had one of those faces that made you want to talk.

“I...I struggle to sleep these days. I’ve struggled to sleep since the battle to be honest...if it's not tossing and turning then it’s nightmares. When the lights go out the thoughts come out...”

“From what I heard you did alright. You helped people, you got a few death eaters along the way...” There was an unspoken question, ‘what do you have to be haunted about? What did you do? or what did you not do?’

“Yeah....I helped some people, used my healer training to my advantage and sure I got a few stunning spells in, but I....I couldn’t save the one person that really mattered. I couldn’t....” You breathe in a shaky breath and can already feel the tears welling in your eyes at the thought of him. A hand reaches across the table and covers your own. It’s a comforting gesture, it reminds you that you’re safe here.

“I couldn’t save Fred...I tried, y’know, I even tried muggle methods, I thought maybe if magic wouldn’t help, muggle medicine might...I thought if I could just get him breathing again he’d be okay. It would all be okay...I” You close your eyes hard, feeling the press of your lids together, the wetness welling at the corners, “It’s my fault...I don’t even know why your parents let me stay...how any of you can even look at me...if I had been a better healer, or better at defence, then Fred might still be here.”

“You can’t seriously believe that?”

You lift your eyes to his, his eyebrows are furrowed, twisted down, mouth set in a frown. “I should have been able to save him. I have helped so many people. I have stopped so many people from dying...but I couldn’t save him.” You avert your eyes, his stare feels too intense, too much.

“You’re not to blame, look at me,” He squeezes your hand, firmly, but still gentle. The other reaches forward, a finger underneath your chin to lift your face as he brings your gaze back to his and leans ever forward as if all he wants is for you to truly listen and truly believe. “You didn’t kill Fred. You didn’t cause his death. No one can bring someone back from the dead..there was nothing you or anyone else could do. Rookwood was to blame. Voldemort and his followers were to blame. Not you.”

“Then why do I feel like I am? Like I should have done better?”

“Because we all do. Do you think Percy doesn’t blame himself? Like maybe if he’d not made a joke, not distracted Fred, he’d still be here? Do you think George doesn’t think he could have protected his own twin better? Me? I wish I'd bloody been right there, right next to him. I wish I did more and I feel the guilt of not doing more each day...We all feel like we failed him. You don’t feel guilty because you did something wrong, you feel guilty because he was your friend and you’re a good person. Good people always want to do better, even if it's not possible, love.”

“How do you do it? How do you keep going?” It feels impossible some days, the idea that you shouldn’t feel guilty or sad or angry or hurt. Some days you almost forget that he’s not here, you see George and go to ask after Fred, you think of a joke and think that you should go tell him...Some days simply getting out of bed seems impossible.

“I let it go. You can’t live in the past or else you’ll forget the present, and never look to the future. That’s what we were fighting for. That’s what Fred was fighting for, a better future. I chose to stop punishing myself for what I did or did not do because my brother would feed me a canary cream if he heard me blaming myself.”

You let out a sharp laugh, quick, unexpected even for you, and it's true. Fred wouldn’t stand for it, he wouldn’t stand for anyone blaming themselves, he’d tell you to buck up and crack a few jokes, stop hurting yourself. He was like that. Whenever he found you squirrelled away behind a tapestry, sad and crying, he always found a way to make you smile. His life’s work was getting people to smile.

“...Thank you. I know it’s not going to get better over night, but...maybe it’s time to try and stop dwelling in the past.” You stare into your empty mug for a second before rising to place it beside the sink. He’s still drinking his tea, and you, realise this whole time you hadn’t asked him why he wasn’t asleep.

“Why...why aren’t you asleep, Charlie?” You lean back against the counter to watch him, the blanket slipping off of your shoulders slightly.

“I...I have a few old injuries that keep me up sometimes. Mostly my back, the scars I have ache a lot...but I...I sleep best on my back so...”

It surprises that his lack of sleep was something that seemed so fixable to you, but you often had to remind yourself that most witches and wizards struggled with even basic healing charms and didn’t think in the same way that you did. Healing was a skill and knowing the right solution to a problem took both natural intuition and training.

“Do you...have you ever learnt lenio?” You move closer to him, throwing the blanket off of your shoulders and onto the back of your chair. Each step shows your healer nature as you itch to get closer and have a look at the problem, to solve it like you do every day of the week.

“Uh, I’ve never heard of it?”

“Oh...I suppose you’re probably used to being given potions for pain, they usually last longer, don’t rely on the witch or wizard’s will power. It’s a...a pain relief spell, it works on a great deal. I...Hermione’s scar hurts a lot so I taught her it, but her scar’s easy for her access...you could always see me before you go to sleep each night and I can administer it. It’s considered outdated because of potions but I find that it’s most effective for scarring or pains that distract or make you unfocused and people don’t get as reliant.”

“Does...does it last awhile?”

“It varies on the caster’s strength of thought, I typically find when I cast it it lasts anywhere between 12 hours to a day, some people it can last minutes. Hermione manages to make it last around 8 hours. It’s why it fell out of fashion, not a lot of wizards or witches have the aptitude for it.” Potions had become easier. Easier to make. Easier to administer and more predictable when duration was involved. But, pain relief potions could be addictive and you always found yourself leaning towards charms and spells over potions, where possible.

“Before you...before you go to bed could you cast it? I’d really like to get some sleep, love.”

Nod with a small smile, easing the tension in Charlie’s shoulders just that little bit. That famous bedside manner of yours pushing its way to the surface.

“You said it was your back?” You ask as you reach for your wand in the waistband of your pyjama shorts. He nods at you, “First year on the reserve a Hungarian Horntail decided he didn’t like me very much...never told mum.” You let out a little laugh at that, the thought of Mrs Weasley’s reaction was rather comical in your mind. While she could be fearsome, she was also known for her over the top and sometimes melodramatic responses.

You understand why he chose not to tell her. Mrs Weasley could be overbearing in her protectiveness and you’re sure she would never have let him work on the reserve again, no matter how much he loved it. “Could you...um, disrobe for me.” You ignore the nerves in your stomach and try to get into the healer mindset, you’ve seen plenty of patients wear even less and it was never a problem before. You weren’t going to let Charlie Weasley taking his shirt off get to you. You’d seen him without it early that day and surely he couldn’t affect you quite so much the second time.

Or that’s what you told yourself before you found yourself gazing at him a little too long. Truth was Charlie was an attractive man, even fully dressed and the beauty of his torso was not diminished by you having seen it previously. Up close you noticed things that you hadn’t earlier in the day. Scars of various types caught your eye, a few bite marks you recognised well as various types of dragon, scratches, burn marks, his body told the story of a dragon keeper who had known pain and yet still enjoyed his job. He was covered in freckles head to toe, or at least what you could see of his body, and red hair that criss crossed his arms and his chest. The dragon had moved from his shoulder and neck area, stalking its way across his left ribs, breathing little spouts of fire.

You cleared your throat and gestured for him to turn his back towards you. You could see it was covered in scars, a large portion was burn scarring, but there were claw marks too. You placed a hand gently on the top of his shoulder and gently pushed him forward so that you could get a better look. Your other hand softly trailed over the skin, examining the depths of the scars, making an assessment of what sort of scarring it was. “These were healed poorly, did you not go to the reserve healer?” You could tell they could have been healed better, they would have left a mark certainly, but with less pain you were sure. It was, in truth, a rather shoddy job.

“Oh, I went...he’s just not very good.” You scoff, not very good was an understatement and you wrecked your brain for anyway you could fix the damage done. You’d never seen wounds healed so poorly or such extensive scarring caused by magical healing, you think that they might have healed better on their own.

“This was about nine years ago, correct?” You watch the back of Charlie’s head move up and down in a nod, “He used a mending charm.” You scoff, irritation strong within you.

“Is that wrong?”

“They’re meant for objects not people, it’s why you have so much scarring, why it hurts...I just wonder...I wonder if...I know you just wanted me to do a quick lenio, Charlie...but I’d like to try something, I have absolutely no idea if any of the spells I know will work, but I might be able to permanently reduce the pain, and the damage.”

“You couldn’t do that with Hermione?”

“Her scar is the product of dark magic...that’s...we’re still trying to figure out how to undo that sort of injury, but this is normal in comparison. I could make it worse or I could make it better or it could do nothing...”

“Love,” he looks over his shoulder at you, eyes surprisingly full of mirth, “I doubt you could make it worse, give it your best shot.”

You think through all the healing spells you know and you contemplate the nature of this. It isn’t an open wound or a broken bone, but it is damaged flesh, scar tissue so mangled it hurts and you think deep about your time at St Mungo’s, the many healer’s you’ve known and learnt from and you think of your own experience creating spells, melding your wants, desires, outcomes, into a single word, a single channel for your magic. You use his confidence in you and your desire to see his pain reduced or undone as a force behind the words that leave your mouth without even thinking and the almost natural movement of your wand.

“Renovare” It’s not a spell you know and yet, as you speak the words and channel your magic through your wand, you know what it does and you know what it’s purpose is. Renew. To fix what isn’t wounded, but is damaged, to heal what has been healed poorly. You watch delicate streams of pearlescent light, flickering between white and pink and teal, fall over the scars and break them apart delicately before rehealing wounds. You hear Charlie hiss and squeeze his shoulder in reassurance that everything is working the way it should and that you’re sorry it hurts. The scars that are left behind are less angry, closer to the skin, and less like knotted damaged tissue. Perhaps had you been there when it happened, there would be no scars at all, but unmending and re-mending a wound is not so perfect or simple. You have the presence of mind to realise this is a new spell, of your own creation, and that you should write all of this down before you go to sleep tonight. This spell could be a breakthrough for wizarding medicine, at least where angry scars that cause pain are concerned. You’re so focused on fixing his pain that this realisation doesn’t bring you the pride it should, after all, not many witches or wizards could simply create a spell.

There’s something satisfying about watching the process, the breaking open of skin and the regrowth of new. The new scars looking as you’d want them to be, knowing that you have fixed the work of a poor healer and hopefully, in the process, stopped the pain that causes Charlie’s lack of sleep.

You run your hand over the new scars once you’re done, checking the thickness of the scar tissue, his dragon has moved to his back now, curiously dancing around your fingers, nipping as if it could catch them. You get the feeling that it is grateful for your work. “Does it hurt at all? or...at least is the pain lesser?”

“It’s...it’s sore, like i’ve just come off the quidditch pitch, but it doesn’t hurt. Not like it used to.”

“Mmm...,” you continue your observations for a while, asking more questions about how it feels as you go, “I suspect the soreness will go, I have just broken your scars open and re-healed them...they look better, proper healing work, none of that bollocks from before.” You find your patience for bad healers always to be quite small, healing was serious business, people’s lives, their feelings were at risk and bad healers, in your opinion, simply shouldn’t exist.

“I...thank you for letting me try I...”

“I’ve never heard that spell before.”

“That’s because I just created it.” He looks at you as you expect, surprised and a little bit in awe. Most wizards and witches can’t just make their own spells, you know this, but your experience with Fred and George had taught you a few things. The two of them had always innately created their own charms and potions, and they taught you how it should feel, how to focus, how to think, how to tap into that part of yourself that was purely magic, that knew without words what it could and wanted to do.

“That’s...impressive.”

“Your brothers’, they’re...they were...George and Fred have always...” You sigh in frustration, it is so hard to find the right tense now. George is here and Fred is not, but they're a pair, not individuals and it feels wrong to...to leave one out. He’s patient with you, soft eyes, a reassuring smile as a hand reaches for yours and gives a quick squeeze. “When we were in school, the twins just knew how to make their own spells...all their products are their own work and creation...they taught me how to...how to tap into that part of me, the part that knows what to do. I’ve not done it in years, I've not had need to...I just knew what I wanted to happen and I let myself guide me.” You smile at him softly, round cheeks pushing upwards with your smile. His eyes are darting curiously across your face as if seeking out the answer to some question only he knew.

There’s a look of surprise behind the curiosity. You can see it, that he never fully realised just how brilliant his brothers’ were. Most of the people who meet...met the twins underestimated their abilities, but they were brilliant. Sometimes you just have to look past the laughter, the jokes and the ostentatious colours.

“Thank you...thank you for this,” He gestures to his back, “and thank you for teaching me something about the twins that I...that I failed to realise myself. We’ve always undervalued them, I love them...loved...but, even I saw them as jokers and never...never realise the work they put in.”

“Brilliant, that’s how I describe them. Insane. Terribly immature at times. Quick to anger, like most Weasleys, but brilliant and kind...” You look off into the distance, eyes losing focus for a second, “have I told...has anyone told you how I became friends with the twins?”

“I always assumed they just wouldn’t leave you alone,” It’s a cheeky smile that makes you laugh, “that would be rather like them.” You lean against the table, thick thigh pressing lightly against the outside of his knee as you think back on how you met the twins.

“In truth...it’s not a wholly happy story. But it’s not entirely sad either, meeting them was the best thing that ever happened to me. They gave me friendship, companionship, knowledge, protection, and family. They gave me a wizarding family that would always support me and I don’t think at the age of eleven I truly understood the importance that your family would play in my life. Now, I couldn’t live without them.” You turn your eyes on him with a soft smile.

“We have a way about us...Weasley’s collect people, I think. We’re never happy alone, we like a full house, we like fighting over a bathroom in the morning and cramming around the table. Mum loves adding people to the family, and I'm sure the moment she met you she knew you’d be the newest addition.” You smile at that. You wonder if a Weasley could ever truly be happy alone. While Charlie lived away from his family, you were sure, judging by his little smile, that the distance was hard on him and that he probably surrounded himself with friends and colleagues to feel that familiarity.

“It was my first year and I was crying…” You look up at the ceiling, the wood beams that cross it, the hanging pots and drying herbs. “I was behind the tapestry on the 5th floor...there’s this little room behind it and I found it by accident, I’m rather clumsy,” You laugh and look back at him. It startles you a little to realise you have his undivided attention, but it also pleases you, to know that he’s listening, that he values what you have to say even if it's just a silly little story.

“I was bawling really, none of that quiet dainty crying. It was rather horrible actually...they must have heard, said I sounded like Moaning Myrtle which just upset me more...they sat beside and they asked ‘what’s happened? Who do we need to prank?’' It was ever so Fred and George even back when you were all just eleven. Their solution to a problem was often either pranking the person responsible or starting a fight with them. The latter was your least favourite of the two.

“Sounds like them, although I wouldn't have been surprised if they offered to throw a few punches...we have hot tempers.”

“You seem awfully mild mannered for a Weasley to me?” It was true, Charlie and Bill both seemed like two calm individuals, at least compared to Ginny or Ron or even Mrs Weasley. All of whom were known for their explosive, passionate tempers.

“Well, love, you’ve never seen me nearly tear the Ravenclaw quidditch captain a new one after a blatant display of cobbing...Although, i’m definitely less fiery than Ginny. She scares me a little sometimes.”

“She is prone to bouts of violence,” You love it about her though, her quickness to defend others, her bravery. If there ever was a Gryffindor it certainly was Ginevra. “Either way, they offered pranking services rather than violence...good move on their part, I suspect I would have been terrified of them had they offered to break someone’s nose…”

“So who or what made you cry? Homesick?”

“No...I mean, I was homesick, but that wasn’t what had me crying behind that tapestry...it was boys actually. They’d been picking on me, all years, all ages, all houses, for the first few weeks of my life at Hogwarts. Sometimes it was my hair...and other times it was my teeth, sometimes it was the fact I was muggle born...but mostly, it was that I was fat,” You see he rearing up to say something at the word, but you stop him before he can speak, “I am fat. Charlie, that’s not an insult to me, I can be a million wonderful things, and fat is just a descriptor. I am fat and a hufflepuff and I am pretty and I am brave and I am terribly dedicated to my work. But back then...the way they used it. That was an insult. I was fat, I was a whale, a pig, or some other creature they could demean me with. They said I was ugly and unworthy and ‘who’d want to date you?’...I wasn’t even old enough to care about dating, but they made me feel like I was unlovable...and then your brothers came along.”

You smile at him, at the hand he’s placed on your knee in reassurance, the hand that doesn’t stay there too long out of respect for you. He’s listening now, truly, there is no desire to butt in, to interject, because he realises that you do not unjustly hate your body. You are simply telling a story. “After that they never let anyone say a bad word about me...they protected me and I protected them too...you’ve not seen a thing until you’ve seen a hufflepuff fly at Draco Malfoy with the intent to maim.” You quirk a lip thinking of all the times you’d nearly hurt the boy, he was better now, you could have a civil conversation, but Merlin, he’d been terrible in school.

“Should I worry for my personal safety?” Charlie laughs, leaning back away from you as if you might attack at any moment, but it is all play and it makes you chuckle. “I think you’re safe, dragon boy…”

There’s a comfortable silence in which your leg pressed against Charlie’s as you leant against the table, Charlie leaning back in his chair. It’s the sort of silence that feels like companionship, there is no pressure in your chest to speak, no feeling that the silence was wrong, no strange buzzing in your chest.

“I’m glad they looked out for you...you deserve to have people who look after you the way you look after them.”

“You...you barely know me.” You look at him through your lashes, feeling shy, bashful at the kind words. He just gives you a stunningly soft smile, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners.

“True, but in the short time I have known you you’ve been nothing but kind, caring, and you even invented a spell simply to help me. Love, that says more than anything else about you. You care about people...and people should care about you too.” The tenderness should scare you, intimidate you, instead it makes warmth blossom in your chest and happy tears well in your eyes because no one has ever said something so kind. Even when you doubt how useful you are, even with the guilt, it means so much to hear someone acknowledge the kindness you give, the care you provide, and not take it for granted. It is this that makes you realise how desperately you want to keep Charlie Weasley in your life, even simply as a friend because he cares so deeply about people and because he doesn’t feel ashamed or embarrassed to share those thoughts or feelings that would matter most to a person.

It is with those words and thoughts in your head that the two of you say goodnight and you return to your bed, the blankets don’t feel irritating anymore, your head does not buzz with bad thoughts. While it is hard to go to sleep it is not out of guilt or anger or sadness, but a sort of giddiness that you haven’t felt in so long. You fall asleep with a smile.

#summer nights #reader insert #readerinsert #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasleyxreader #charlie weasley/reader #charlie weasley / reader #harry potter #harry potter reader insert #plus size reader #overweight reader #female reader

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rosesloveletters · 3 years

Text

Color Me.

pairing: Patrick Verona x Reader

word count: 1,280

warnings: none

summary: Supportive Patrick with an artistic s/o; Patrick gives his artsy s/o a special surprise for their birthday.

notes: requested by @sunnlightveins “hiii i wanted to send in a request for a patrick verona fic where y/n is an artist and he's super supportive about it! my birthday is next week so it would be awesome if you have time and want to incorporated any birthday activities <3 I do not have any limitations in mind so write whatever makes the story fluffy or spicy or anything lol thank you so much you are the sweetest :) (oh also,, my name is rosie too bahaha we love that)” Thank you so much for requesting darling! I hope you enjoy this piece! I included a birthday aspect to it for you. Happy early birthday💖 You’re so sweet for requesting this, darling! Aw your name is Rosie too? That’s so cute and sweet aw!! I love it💖💖💖 (something about a paint-spattered Patrick Verona gets me all warm and fuzzy on the inside💖)

Patrick has always been supportive of you and your interests, even if they are different from his own. Your uniqueness makes you special and Pat would do anything to make sure you know that.

You have always loved to create; whether you’re drawing, painting, writing, collaging, etc. creating is where your soul truly thrives.

Patrick is somewhat of an artist himself and he loves to work with his hands. He welds and does all different types of metalworking; he has even tried blacksmithing before and has found he has a natural knack for it.

Pat is always extremely supportive of you and your creative vision. He will indulge you any time an idea comes and will let you tell him all about your next or current projects.

You love to bounce ideas off of each other and Pat’s active imagination helps you develop concepts you never would’ve been able to put together on your own.

Pat is your muse and you are his; you’ve painted many a canvas in his image and likeness, not to mention the countless poems you’ve written with him in your mind’s eye. Everything you create is centered around him, even the subjects where are not your lovable Aussie.

You give back all of the love with which Pat rewards you through your art. You show him that same love with your paintbrush, pen, pencil or any other creative utensil you find yourself working with. Your creativity is versatile and you use your abilities and talents to put beauty and love back into the world where it might have been lacking. Not to say that Pat’s beauty and love fell short; sometimes you only wanted him to have and to be given more.

On your birthday, Patrick gifts you with all kinds of new art supplies: a fresh set of colored pencils (the expensive ones), a new sketchbook, plenty of canvas, a couple of journals, some paints, markers, and even a calligraphy set.

He values creativity more than most; he loves how excited you get when you’re working on something you love.

The only other time he sees that same love in your eyes is when you are looking at him and he would give everything he has ever had, known or loved just so he could see that look on your face every second of every day.

He is moved by your work and he loves every bit of what you do; he offers comments of support and thoughtful critiques when you ask him to provide one. He never responds to you half-heartedly or acts as though he is disinterested. Pat always has time to give you a solid response and one filled with care and consideration.

Since it’s your birthday, he knows he must do something extra special for you and so he offers to let you paint him, but when he sees you getting a fresh, blank canvas onto your easel, he stops you.

“Love, I meant for you to paint me,” Pat chuckles airily as he’s removing his shirt. At this point do you realize where he wants you to paint and a deep blush rises on your cheeks as Pat undresses for you, offering his body as your very own flesh and blood canvas right before your eyes.

You wouldn’t have expected him to pursue an idea like this, but with Pat having always been so supportive, you are not so surprised at his willingness to be painted so intimately. He wants to feel the love that flows through you from each brushstroke against his smooth skin. He needs to watch your concentrated expression as each idea unfurls itself from your mind and onto your canvas…onto him.

You quickly set up your paints and began mixing. You blend perfect blues, purples and reds together to make deep indigo, royal violet and bright pink, all in contrast to the stark white you have chosen for the finishing touches. Patrick was your universe and so that was what you would paint on him; you started first upon his back as you painted his skin to match the Milky Way galaxy and every tiny star that lit up the night sky.

The paint was cold and Pat shivered as the first few brushstrokes glided along his spine, “Wasn’t expecting it to be so cold,” he breathed heavily, “you’re not putting it all on my back, are you? I want to see when it’s done.”

“I’ll take a picture of the backside for you,” you replied, already in rapt concentration as you filled in his shoulder blade with alternating spirals of indigo and violet.

You painted him quickly, though not too quickly. You wanted each brushstroke to be filled with familiarity, each resembling the gentle caresses and touches you bestowed upon your loving partner with your hands and not a brush. The night sky had begun to take shape on his back and even as he flexed his muscles, you could tell that Pat felt each steady stroke with as much love as you’d hoped to be putting forth.

Your painting is thorough, as if Pat can feel the flickers of blue, pink highlights, tinges of violet and every inch of starlit speckles you dotted across his skin. If you hadn’t offered to take a photo of your masterpiece, Patrick is certain he could already see it within the gentility, steadiness and certainty of your hand.

You intricately weave into your galactic tapestry your love of space and astronomy; you place several of the constellations onto his back: Orion, Scorpius and Ursa Major, among a few others you can place by memory.

Your love for Patrick is as vast as space itself and more colorful, vibrant and lively than any of the most brilliant sunsets the Earth has ever seen.

You step back to admire your work and snap a few photos of it for your love to see. You capture the memory with Patrick’s favorite polaroid camera and write the date at the bottom; Patrick keeps all of his photographs in an album and you can’t wait to put this one alongside the others.

You hand him the photograph and his face lights up in much the same way as a sunset, slow at first and then all at once.

“This is beautiful, y/n!” Patrick gasps aloud, gathering you into his arms as he hugs you tight. You hug back, arms around his neck so that you won’t smudge your work.

Patrick lets you paint him elsewhere; you paint the sun on his chest because his heart beats as steadily as the sun shines upon the Earth. You also paint several of the planets on his arms and legs just for the fun of it.

When Pat finally cannot stand still any longer, you let him return the favor and paint across your own skin; Pat is not a painter, though he does his best to re-create Van Gogh’s Starry Night from memory onto your left arm.

Patrick gives up quickly once he realizes how difficult it is to master the art of mixing the precise colors and begins to splatter paint onto your body, to which you retaliate in much the same way; the night ends with you and Pat in the shower, covered from head to toe in every color on the spectrum.

Pat’s hair is caked in shades of orange and blue, yours with greens, reds and yellows.

As you wash off together, Patrick peppers in a few kisses to your red and yellow spotted lips as the paint begins to run, sending reds, greens, blues and yellows spiraling down the drain in a river of color and of creative excess.

#heath ledger #patrick verona #10 things I hate about you #ten things I hate about you #10tihay #patrick verona x reader #biblio :: 📖

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