#from In the Heights: Finding Home about the making of the stage show and movie

[lightsoutletsgo]

hiii could I request a ship?? idm how many you list!! I’m v short for my age … like ariana grande height (5’2”), I’m an aspiring actress and I just starred in my first semi-professional theatrical show today. I also sing, I’m very open minded and a good listener. HUGEEE introvert, the type that would rather spend her day at home instead of go out. fanatic bookworm and I also sketch and write short stories or poems whenever I feel very pressured. my music tastes is very variable, i listen to whatever i like but i mostly listen to miss swift. i love horror movies, and people would describe me as creative and shy. Although I try to step out of my comfort zone whenever I get the opportunity. Love language is physical touch and words of affirmation. Praise kink girlie til I die. ALSO! I do songwriting for fun, lately I’ve been thinking to take it to a professional level, but we’ll see.

SO SORRY IF THIS IS LIKE VERY LONG- But this is probably the best way I can describe myself. 💞💞

-🕰️

ahhh hi gorgeous! thank you for sending your ask! as a fellow theatre girlie - I see you! (my show starts rehearsals in april!) I hope this is okay, I went a little outside the box! happy reading! mimi 🤍

OSCAR PIASTRI ᝰ.ᐟ₊ ⊹ - calls you sweetheart or sunshine (occasionally calls you his star when referring to you in 3rd person or in good luck cards!) - loves how your hand feels in his! has an obsession with comparing them. - his love language is words of affirmation - he loves surprising you with cute dates like picnics or stargazing

oscar is so proud of you! he doesn't know much about your industry or everything it entails. he's learning day by day though! but he knows you have to put in an insane amount of work for what sometimes seems like very little reward. he's always there at every show and you can bet he's sending flowers and a card to you backstage before your show opens! he's there at the stage door to greet your when you've finished, beaming at you and holding out another beautiful bouquet of flowers as you giggle, filled with that aftershow high.

oscar loves hearing you hum and sing around the house and he does his best when he joins in but quickly decides he'll leave the singing to you and instead woo you with his amazing dance moves (which means pulling you in and spinning you round the room until you're both too dizzy to stand anymore)

he's so appreciative that you're a good listener and finds a massive amount of comfort in calling you or coming home to you after a long day and rambling about everything that's happened - good and bad. he doesn't mind that you're shy, in fact he thinks it's cute! but he also likes that he's able to help you and do something for you seeing as you do so much for him!

oscar is always encouraging you to show him your sketches and poems but he also understands that sometimes those things are very personal. he loves bringing home cute stationary like writing paper and washi tape when he's been away and he always checks your art supplies after you've been sketching for a while to make sure you have everything you need for next time because he knows it's your outlet.

he loves listening to music with you in the car and he's more than happy to let you explain all the lore about each taylor swift album (it's actually come in useful sometimes in various conversations) oscar will never admit it to any of the other drivers but he's now a hardcore swiftie and he will not shy away from correcting lando, "it's 'he looks up grinning like a devil', not 'he looks so pretty like a devil', geez mate" (these interactions have kind of exposed his fan status though because he gets so passionate about it!) any road trips whether short or long will have you both belting out your favourite taylor swift tunes complete with facial expressions and acting.

oscar's love and praise doesn't just stop at everyday life though, he finds that watching you squirm and whine underneath him when he calls you pretty just does something to him. he loves taking his time, slowly stripping you of your clothes, praising and kissing each new section of bare skin that's revealed. he relishes in the breathy whimpers he draws from you and the way you grab his shoulders to keep yourself stable as you stand between his legs.

oscar is the tyoe of boyfriend that will do anything for you. even if that means waking up at five am his time to help you run lines after rehearsals before you sleep. despite his busy week, he had assured you he was more than happy to do it and you have to admit, your boyfriend isn't the best actor, but it makes the process fun!

"hey sunshine! how was rehearsal?" you smile at the phone screen as your boyfriend answers your call, his hair all messy and still blinking away sleep as he matches your smile, "it was good! we started blocking act two today and got to see some of the set pieces! was pretty cool." oscar nods, a sleepy yawn escaping, "I got your message with the script sweetheart." you nod, "just need to look at scenes three and seven they were a little sticky earlier," "I gotcha," he stretches and you bite your lip as a flash of his tummy is visible for a second, "hey now..." he grins. busted. "let's work on these scenes first and then we can think about that later."

#mimi's 500 celebration ₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡ #omg a new theatre friend?! 🥹 #🕰️ anon #mimi.writes #mimi.thirsts #f1 x reader #oscar piastri x reader

[deandoesthingstome]

Night Moves

Chapter 1

Pairing: Walter Marshall x OFC (Alexandra Pierce)

Series Summary: When Walter Marshall is called to investigate a homicide by the railroad tracks, he quickly uncovers an unsettling pattern. Alexandra Pierce just wants someone to find out what happened to her friend. She has some secrets, too. And Walter’s going to uncover them.

Word Count: 1422

Series Warnings: In general, this series will depict assault, murder, stripping, hooking, rough sex, make up sex, fingering, oral (m and F receiving), p in v sex in various positions, self-loathing, failed relationships, smoking, drug use, drug addiction, general violence, and maybe some comfort. +18, Minors DNI

Chapter Warnings: Smoking, mention of stripping, mention of hooking, a dead body, grumpy Walter

Disclaimers: I do not own Walter Marshall, Night Hunter (Nomis), or any other characters from that movie, but I do own this OFC (Alexandra Pierce) and these words. Do not repost as your own. Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are more than welcome. It’s how I get my nourishment.

Header made by me, with pics found from Pexel.com and the internet. Dividers are not mine, but check out the masterlist for credit.

Playlist: I’ll be adding to this Night Moves playlist with each chapter. Songs 1- 3. I really hope you check it out, at least "Low" - Chet Faker. Whatever you think Walter's taste in music might be, these words hit home about him for me. Direct Spotify link here.

Masterlist

Don't look at me

I'm the bus stop boxer

Going down by the railroad tracks, where

People know that they better not relax

I'm the man, baby, I am the man

This is where I can make you understand

“Trixie, wait up!” Sasha called from the club entrance. She was just tucking her stilettos into her shoulder bag and trying to cross the parking lot as quickly and gracefully as she could in her regulation heels, thankful for the unseasonably warm spring evening. 

That was just one of the amazingly ridiculous club rules designed to toss women off balance, literally and figuratively. Augie’s Cabaret couldn’t actually tell a dancer what to do outside of work, no matter how much they tried to entice women into extracurricular jobs. But the parking lot was leased to them just like the building. So performers showed up and left in the “outside uniform.” Tight fitting, preferably low cut crop tops and hip hugger minis with as much skin showing in between, above, and below as possible. And though dancing took place in much higher heels on the stage inside, two inches was the minimum height for the lot.

Sasha caught up just at the sidewalk where Trixie had stopped to light a cigarette. She offered the pack and Sasha snagged one gratefully. Everyone’s nerves were stretched tight and if a few smokes could shave off some of the edge, Sasha wasn’t going to feel bad about it.

Trixie smirked and waited while Sasha pulled her flats from her bag, replacing each heel one at a time before nodding they could head off.

“Did you hear about Angel?” Trixie asked.

“No. Oh shit!” Sasha exclaimed, turning to watch Trixie’s face. “She get roughed up, too?”

Trixie took a long drag and nodded, tapping the ash off her cigarette.

“Fuck, that’s like three we know of right? All around here?” Sasha asked.

“I’ve heard of a few over near Glenwood, but yeah. Angel, Sheri, and Magda - all here near Hennepin.”

“Dating?” Sasha asked, using the euphemism the women preferred.

Trixie inhaled and nodded slowly again. Sasha looked away before her face betrayed her concern, just in time to spy the large crack in the sidewalk. She stepped gingerly to be sure her foot didn’t get caught and mentally patted herself for insisting on changing shoes for the walk and bus ride home. If she hadn’t been trying to keep as much info about her personal life from the club owners as possible, she would have just driven. But the shared walks and rides gave her an opportunity to get to know her co-workers better and it kept the bouncers from knowing her license plate number. 

“I do not know how the fuck you walk home in those heels,” Sasha said, tossing her butt to the ground and pulling her long windbreaker out of her bag. “Your feet have to be killing you. I saw they scheduled you for two extra stage dances tonight. You okay with that?”

“Girl, I asked for it. I am so far behind with them.” Trixie took another drag and exhaled the smoke slowly. “I still have last month’s rent to work off and the first is coming up again soon. I’m so fucked.” 

“Do you know what you’re gonna do? Not…” 

“I’ll do what I have to do,” Trixie interrupted.

Sasha knew what that meant and fought every urge she had to remind her how dangerous it was. How there was no security down by the tracks like there was at the club. How anyone buying there wasn’t exactly gonna be rolling in cash, so she couldn’t quote club prices. How even if the club takes a larger cut of that illegal income than they do stage and floor work, at least she wouldn’t be isolated and without security.

But Trixie had already warned her months ago when Sasha had started at the club: Be careful how you talk to the other performers. They aren’t children and they don’t need your judgment. 

Trixie knew her from the clinic where Sasha had done some volunteer work and was shocked to see her at amateur night trying to hide behind a bombastic neon pink wig. Sasha recognized Trixie, too, and cornered her afterwards, begging her not to say anything to anyone about who she really was. She just wanted to see if she could actually get up on stage and put her old dance lessons to use before she asked for a job.

Trixie was wary, but liked her from the clinic and gave her the benefit. Sasha explained that she hoped to learn a little more about the circumstances that tended to lend themselves to starting a career in adult entertainment and what, if anything, women who found themselves here might need to either stay safe, both physically and emotionally, or get out altogether. Trixie agreed to help her navigate the waters. But she also made sure Sasha remembered to treat them like human beings. Not that Sasha would have ever intentionally done anything other than that, but when you don’t come from the life, there is always something to learn. Or rather unlearn.

Like the fact that they aren’t all strung-out coke-whores and very few of them actually have the daddy issues everyone thinks they do. Which Sasha was gradually learning as she made efforts to befriend and chat with all the women she met on her shifts.

And so, against all her better judgments, so many of which she’d willingly pushed aside these past few months, Sasha let Trixie go once they reached her bus stop. 

“Be careful. Please. Do you have your cell? Your panic button?” Sasha asked, trying to mask her true concern while she donned the dark coat and covered up for the ride.

“Yes, mom,” Trixie stuck out her tongue. “Look, I get it. I know things have gotten a little scary out there, but I’m stuck, Sasha. I can't borrow anymore from the club and I need to get them paid back. This is my only option.”

Walter Marshall shifts into park and grabs the dark blue windbreaker from the passenger seat before stepping down from his Ford extended cab and heading towards the line of cops and yellow tape marking the scene. He swings the jacket around his shoulders with ease, slipping his arms through the sleeves and marking himself as someone who belongs behind the lines. A few uniformed officers step aside, one picking up the tape to let the Lieutenant pass under as he nods curtly in thanks.

It’s a grizzly mess. Or it would be if the responding units hadn’t already covered the body tossed carelessly a few yards back from the tracks.

Walter makes his way to his new partner, Mick Jonas, nodding towards him with the same grim reserve he showed the rookies. The CSI unit is still snapping photos of the surrounding area and scouring the ground for possible evidence as he squats low and lifts a corner of the police blanket. It takes all his nerve not to drop it again just as quickly.

“Jesus. Fuck.” It never fails to hit him hard.

“Yeah,” Detective Jonas agrees, fidgeting with the cigarette pack in his coat pocket and grateful he hadn’t lit up like he wanted to just as Marshall appeared. He didn’t need another dressing down about preserving the scene.

“Looks like someone went 12 rounds with her and she was on the ropes the whole time. This track with anything you’ve seen lately?” Walter asks.

“Not with bodies, no.”

“Something else then?” Walter questions, standing once again and leading Jonas back over the line.

“My girl, Lila. You know, she’s an ER nurse. Says there’s been a rash of girls coming in, beat up.”

“Girls?” Detective Marshall stiffens, curious about the ages and whether this is something Faye could get caught up in.

“Well, you know … I mean…,” Jonas stammers.

“Right, street workers then. You can just call them women, Mick.” He didn’t like to think about the fact that sometimes they really were girls. 

“Okay, yeah. And, well, strippers, too. I mean, that’s what she said.”

“But no police reports filed?” Walter opens the driver’s door and nods toward the passenger side. “You need a lift back to the station?”

“Yeah, I do, thanks.” After climbing in and closing the door, he continues. “And no, yeah, police reports were filed. Want me to see if I can grab ‘em when we get back?”

“You do that.”

Chapter 2 

Taglist:

Anything: @kittenofdoomage @mayloma @sillyrabbit81 @fvckinghenrycavill @kebabgirl67 @beck07990 @summersong69 @mollymal (I can’t tag you two, sorry) (Also throwing in a few from the old days for old times sake ;) @littlegreenplasticsoldier @anotherwinchesterfangirl @sebbytrash @feelmyroarrrr​)

Night Moves: @luclittlepond (I can’t tag you, sorry) @enchantedbytomandhenry @kingliam2019  @henryownsme @geraltsyenn4eva

#walter marshall #walter marshall x ofc #walter marshall fanfiction #night moves #mine #night hunter fanfic #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction

[widowshill]

How do you think Dark Shadows would differ if made today? Would it still be the cult classic or is that kind of writing lost to us?

with the disclaimers that I don't think you can set out to make a cult classic, and also I only know as much about the entertainment industry as the next person, and also I don't really think the writing in Dark Shadows is that good, I do think it's an interesting question! I'll do my best.

To start: for me, the lion's share of the show's enduring appeal is in its earnestness, and part of that is the palpable shoestring budget. things like flubbed lines, camera man and mic shadows in the shot, and other genuine mistakes are part of what you watch the show for, they do not detract but add to the experience. this contributes a similar sense of watching live theatre (paired with most of the core cast being new york theatrically trained and bringing that acting style with them) because you know you're seeing something usually done in one take, where the mistakes bleed through, where who the actors are as people is alongside them on the stage. they flub, and recover, and this is part of the story: so too do the Collinses make vast mistakes, and go on. it is an imperfect world riddled with faults.

This is not something you're going to get in the current media landscape from one of the big networks like ABC; I find it almost impossible to imagine a daytime show being produced with the kind of natural errors Dark Shadows contains. To capture that same kind of poor theatre troup earnestness you would have better success as either a) actual serial theatre, b) a webseries / tiktok series / etc, c) a low-budget independent or college tv station, or d) a miniseries, possibly. If a major network took it on and purposefully put those mistakes in, it would not feel the same. I'm a bit bored of the constant insincerity/irony in a lot of 2020's media, and I think it would rapidly veer into that genre of work.

As far as being a daytime serial, specifically, I don't think the current media environment is exactly right: part of the reason they aired a gothic horror soap opera to begin with is it was part of the broader cultural conversation, next to television like Bewitched, The Addams Family, I Dream of Jeanie, The Munsters, The Twilight Zone, etc. American entertainment in the late 60's had a love affair with the occult (with witches, monsters, ghosts, the works) and this permeated broad aspects of arts and culture: The Haunted Mansion opened at Disneyland in 1969, Monster Mash was number 1 on the Billboard chart in 1962 (and #91 in '70, and #10 in '73). Pair that with prominent artists like John Zacherle's discography, Vincent Price's film credits, 70's gothic horror comedies like The Rocky Horror Picture Show and Phantom of the Paradise, and of course the wild popularity of gothic romance paperbacks in the 60's and 70's. This isn't everything, of course, but just to broad-strokes the landscape.

It's not that we don't have supernatural media today — horror is one of the highest performing movie genres, and there are shows like Ghosts and WWDITS, and Watcher Entertainment — but it's not quite the same explosion of culture (in my opinion). Making a gothic romance-horror-vampire serial would be more at home in the 2010's among the love affair with Twilight, True Blood, The Originals, the dominance of horror game Youtube, the height of Supernatural, Crimson Peak, What We Do In the Shadows 2014, etc. One imagines this is why the 2012 film adaption came out when it did; the cultural moment was conducive, overall. Most nighttime network television today (and I am generalizing) is dominated by legal, medical, and police drama; current soap-operas (especially General Hospital) reflect that, and there are only three soaps getting aired, period. Nothing is impossible: but a soap in the Dark Shadows vein (ha) getting green-lit today seems unlikely, vastly unlikely with the ebb in vampire fervor.

What I will say that works better in today's production moment for a potential series revival (revision?) is we're starting to see an embrace of practical set building / prop making / etc that was lost to us for a little while, especially among the horror genre. For example: Blumhouse's FNAF utilizing the Jim Henson creature shop, the beautiful set work on Haunted Mansion 2023, the use of practical effects in Beetlejuice 2. This is something that to me feels integral, for making Dark Shadows. You may disagree! But I don't think the heavy dependence on CGI did 2012 any favors. The magic inherent in the show (curses, ghosts, whatever you want to call it) is supported by movie magic and the invisible (or sometimes visible) artisanal hands crafting the world for us.

Moreover, with Bridgerton, especially (but also Emma, Little Women, The Gilded Age, The Great, etc) there's been a bit of a renaissance of lush period pieces. The current fascination with historical romances (and anachronism!) lends itself very well to a dive into 1795 or 1897. My best guess is that if we produced a revival right now, there'd be a very heavy focus on one of the alternate time periods (probably 1795), and they would lean on anachronism (and sex) very heavily, and the present year would be a very very minor presence, if they bothered with it at all – and maybe they wouldn't!

As for the writing, specifically? There's nothing that extraordinary about Dark Shadows' writing, to me, what is extraordinary is the characters and the actors' management of them (and Lela's direction) and what they are able to do with the script (aside from a few standout moments of memorable lines). There are brilliant television writers out there who could write a lovely gothic adaption. Some of our priorities in terms of storytelling are different: one thing you would have to acknowledge that the original show rarely dealt with and never performed well on is race. However a lot of the dominant concerns in the cultural landscape do reflect the issues at the forefront of the themes in the writing: especially women's bodily autonomy (Barnabas' hypnotism and forcing Josette's identity onto the nearest brunette/the inherent violation of biting and enthrallment, the way his victims are 90% of the time poor women, or sex workers, or the criminalized and otherwise vulnerable); women's economic position (Liz running the house and business, Victoria and Maggie's subject to endless horrors for a wage, Carolyn free to kick getting married down the road because she's economically secure) and the rigid dominance of the hetero-nuclear family structure as it is entwined with economics in America, and its subversions; and, especially, the way that the American houses (architectural, economic, genealogical) are built on the exploitation of those beneath them, often demanding the physical sacrifice of bodies and blood.

If I had my choice — and this is not what I think is probable, what is probable is a lean into the literal vampires and witches and sex associated in a modern-day setting — a current version of Dark Shadows would lean heavily into those themes, and take the reflection of the literal monsters (Barnabas, Angelique, Quentin, Laura, etc.) on the metaphorical monsters (Elizabeth, Roger, Burke, David, etc.) seriously. Preferably I'd want it set in the 1960's-70's again, because, like Collinsport, we seem to repeat the same sins over and over again, currently we are engaged with and reversing much of the progress that was made by social movements of that era, so in some senses we are returned to that time, culturally. Preferably I would emphasize the mystery? the permeation between the boundary of human and monstrosity? that dominated the early supernatural arcs with Laura and the beginning of Barnabas; and emphasize the terror, especially the terror of violence contained within the charming, and genteel, and refined, and beautiful. Above all I would not begin any first episode of anything with Barnabas, who should be first and foremost a reflection on the family so ready to accept him as like kind.

cult classic? I don't know. I think there's an appetite for earnestness; for long-form storytelling; for the quotidian — to learn about characters as they eat breakfast and bicker, as well as fight monsters. and theatre-trained enunciation that you can hear. I would hope, with sufficient intimacy training, the kissing and sex scenes would be a little better and not make me so very miserable.

#➤ answered. ┊ Collinsport 4099. #➤ ooc. ┊ she’s nauseous，she’s hysterical，and she’s exhausted.

[cityandking]

5, 18, 26, 41, 51 for minah, narayani + dai!

tyyyyy // detailed oc ask meme

5. Height and Body type

MINAH — 5'3ish, generally compact but a little round in the face, bust and hips. has the kind of physique of someone used to a lot of hard work and sometimes skipping a meal or three. great shoulders. regular rations with the wardens has been good for her, but that's kind of offset by the taint, so net zero change. quite bendy. NARAYANI — about 5'2. lithe, pointy eared, etc. very narrow and flat everywhere, all lean and ropey muscle in the sort of way that doesn't obviously show. slightly appallingly dexterous. DAI — 5'9, stocky and solid and kind of square all over. impressive thighs. perfectly hug-shaped.

18. Have any special keepsakes?

MINAH — alesso (the leader of her traveling troupe) sent her a ring that she wears regularly. besides that her only keepsakes are of the mechanically useful variety; she sold anything of value when she had to leave home NARAYANI — she didn't take anything particularly meaningful with her when she left the clan for the conclave, and there was nothing to go back to afterwards, which she regrets—she holds on to her old basic hunting gear in an uncommon show of sentiment. from the companions, she's got dorian's sending crystal necklace and varric's key to kirkwall's docks. also solas left his necklace with her when he dipped—they had a habit of apologizing to each other with gifts and actions rather than using their words, so when he left her with that she knew he wasn't coming back. DAI — not really. he's stubbornly practical in all things. he was collecting souvenirs from his travels, but those were for his dad (who has successfully received them yay). oh! wait yes he has scratch's friendship necklace

26. Guilty Pleasure

MINAH — a nice, private room at the inn with a hot, private bath she can soak in and a lock on the doors NARAYANI — this is so depressing. I don't even know what she finds joy in. I think maybe she smokes? she seems like the kind of gal who might partake of the healing properties of elfroot every now and then if ya know what I mean DAI — genuine alone time. it's rough out there.

41. What’s their morning routine like?

MINAH — one the road, it's roll out of bed, get dressed, start on whatever chores need doing or help is needed (she likes checking in with leo about breakfast when she's with the warden crew). when she's settled in somewhere, she enjoys more of a sedate morning—more time for breakfast before the day gets going, a little extra effort put into her face/hair/hygiene, that sort of thing NARAYANI — rise, breakfast (coffee + something light; usually alone or with solas), stretch/light exercise, clean up, dress. on days when josie schedules her breakfast meetings (cursed) she'll just have the coffee. DAI — rise, dress, meditate/pray, exercise, clean up, breakfast. usually he’s at the breakfast stage by the time the party is really getting going for the day; he's an early riser

51. What were some inspirations for your character (people, movies, games)?

MINAH — minah's biggest touchstone was station eleven (theater kid but make her Weird About It), but she also pulls a little from cirque du soleil and theater troupes more broadly, plus anything involving a significant degree of ghosts & masks. NARAYANI — rani was very much inspired by the DA games and other dalish quizzies and a vague smattering of dalish lore (or fanon), but she's got some touches of the magnus archives too. also just like. death in general? yeah. DAI — dai was born when I was deep in my MDZS phase so he's got some of clan lan's rigorous adherence to rules-as-honor-code. genuinely I can't remember what else might have gone into him but that covers a pretty big portion of his early-game personality and drive.

#ty!!! these were fun!! #still taking them btw #memery #minah #narayani #daichi

[kawaiiwaifu-theartist]

May I offer you all... A Master Detective?

Because here is one! An oc I made a few months ago and from last year.

(WARNING! THE INFORMATION AND BACKSTORY WILL CONTAIN MENTIONS OF DEATH, SUICIDIAL THOUGHTS, ATTEMPTED SUICIDE, AND A BITING KINK, DO NOT TAP READ MORE IF YOU DON'T WANNA GET TRIGGERED)

Name: Kuro Starling

Gender: Male

Height: 189 cm

Weight: 129 kg

Blood Type: AB

Date of Birth: June 27

Likes: BL Vampire Novels

Dislikes: Men hitting on women uncomfortably.

Title: Master Detective and Superstar

Forte: Lie Detector

Description:

A calm, but annoyed detective who was sent to Kanai Ward, he always says the truth of things and never a lie, though he is quite quiet at times. Kuro has a strange sense of interest, finding it enjoyable to read about male vampires in love, he also takes in interest to one day try and bite his lover he will meet someday when it's just himself and them with the lover doing the same thing to him if possible. Though... He has a bit of temper problems and anger issues to say the least.

Backstory:

Kuro was born the 1st amongst his 2 siblings and as the oldest one, living with only a mother but no father. Whenever his mother out to do her idol concerts and performance, she would let Kuro take the responsibility in taking care of his younger siblings, though they had a caretaker to watch over them, he would rather do things on his own than with their help, and when not busy and everything in place, he would watch TV. Seeing the various celebrities and superstars on screen, including his mother, made him fall in love with wanting to do what their doing, performing, singing, dancing, and even being in shows as cameos or not, he admired the entertainment industry. It made him see them as an opportunity to show who he is as he tried to be like his mother, cheerful and loving, he tried to reenact the dance moves and how she moved on stage. Developing his talent in singing and dancing he has now just like his mother's.

But everything he thought of as bright and colorful crumbled away as the day that his mother said she would go out to buy him and his siblings something as she did went awry, wondering where is his mother is going to as he decided to try and follow where she is only led to him seeing death the 1st time.

His dear mother... Was stabbed by a infuriated fan of hers nearby the door, causing his mind to go into a flight or fight as he tried to check his mother's heart where the knife stabbed into. Looking at the fan in disbelief and shaking as he became angered, manifesting his Forte all of sudden with the stars black as the void in his eyes appearing over them as he shouted in anger, tears in his eyes with the police officers, who were nearby, hearing the commotion that was happening at the home as they went to check.

Seeing the crime scene as they immediately arrested the fan, Kuro was now looking at his dead mother's corpse with shaky hands as he cried. The loved one who he admired and loved as both as a role model and mother was gone, nothing was left than a dead body as the thoughts of becoming a star didn't change him alot as he became that, for he tried acting. But the forte of his was a problem when he was asked to act for a movie he was starring in, following the script and reading aloud the words written with him assigned as a side villain, but when it was time to start recording... The black stars turned white all of sudden when he acted and told the words that were on the script and act out on, the cast becoming confused of what was happening to his eyes, when the recording stopped, the director of the movie asked of Kuro if he can just be swapped for another actor, making him wonder why as he asked a question with the director replying back with another question.

Kuro lied and joked for awhile on the response as he said truthful words, the stars in his eyes becoming black again as the director knew what was going on, informing the man about the thing called a Forte and of the WDO as he figured that he could possibly fit right in there, telling him about the Master Detectives even. Kuro thought about it for awhile as he had no choice but to agree, since he thinks that could help him figure out what is going on, and as Kuro agreed, he would soon be taken in by the World Detective Organization to be trained under them and to understand the forte he has now.

Soon, he would become a detective at his near adulthood age as he became an idol just like his mother at his adult age, becoming well known because of the black stars and handsome appearance. But as it continued on, with him living on his own in his own apartment made him rethinking on choices of his life as he would feel like he was being followed or watched by a gaze of someone he loved, realizing the loneliness and no one to tell him he is loved caused him to think he should have died aswell, his mind thinking he should have ended himself as he tried to stabbed himself with scissors one time until a knock was hard at his door, making him have thoughts that he shouldn't do it as he kept on living with the burden in his heart, staying quiet and acting like he was okay without a single word saying he was ok to confirm he was ok, he would just nod as a yes.

This would continue on and on until maybe the day he will have enough of all of it. Who knows when that day will come. But those are the only ones that Kuro can expect is his will to keep on going slowly disappearing and stress becoming apparent, perhaps a vacation is needed for him to be fine?

Lie Detector

A forte of his, this forte is capable of detecting lies of anyone's by just words and information that is currently known by what Kuro heard from people, news, files, and reports, but it's not limited to everyone's lies, his lies are also shown by the stars on his eyes. If the stars are black, he is saying the truth while if the stars are white, he is telling a lie. When he tells the truth after the lie in questioning people, his Forte's lie detecting will activate, causing him to detect if anyone is lying about the things they done before.

Though... His forte thinks that acting is also lying as it's the process of becoming someone or something else by just actions, but also words being spoken, if Kuro acts by saying the words, the stars will also turn white. Only acting by action can let the stars stay black forever withour words being detected as lies.

#rain code #traditional art #master detective archives: rain code #oc #mdarc #raincode #Kuro Starling #original character #reference sheet #small artist #artists on tumblr #artist on tumblr #my art #stars #starry eyes #star eyes #artists of tumblr #art #oc artist

[millsmonroe]

✦ LILY COLLINS, FEMALE, SHE/HER ✦ MILLIE MONROE the THIRTY-THREE year old has been in Hidehill for HER ENTIRE LIFE and was a CLASSMATE to Jade Parker, the missing  first murder victim. Whispers on the streets are that they are a DANCE INSTRUCTOR AT ALL THAT JAZZ who lives in HIDE SQUARE. She is said to be COMPASSIONATE and INSECURE but I guess we’ll find out for ourselves. { SIE, 28, CST, SHE/HER. }

↳ FULL NAME: millie elizabeth monroe ( nicknames: mills or liz ) ↳ AGE: 33 ↳ PRONOUNS: she/her ↳ FACE CLAIM: lily collins ↳ BIRTHDATE: june 22 ↳ ZODIAC cancer ↳ HEIGHT/WEIGHT: 5'3 ; 105 lbs ↳ JOB: dance instructor @ all that jazz ; former ballerina ↳ RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single ↳ SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual ↳ HOMETOWN: hidehill, tn ↳ FOUR TEMPERAMENTS: phlegmatic ↳ SIN / VIRTUE: envy / kindness

↳ CHARACTER TRAITS: compassionate, agreeable, creative, responsible, reserved, trusting, moody, secretive, perfectionist, indecisive, insecure, loyal, passionate, clumsy, dork

↳ LIKES: fuzzy socks, the glow of the moon, baking, art, ballet, red wine, acts of kindness, an organized bookcase, the ambiance of candles, visiting museums, the colors of a sunrise and/or sunset, farmer's markets on the weekend, adult coloring books, the ocean or any bodies of water, touching (hand holding, etc), high heels, making lists, macaroons

↳ DISLIKES: cold weather, crying in front of anyone, comparing herself to every other girl she sees, spoiling a book or tv show or movie, talking about her feelings, pranks, rejection, pantyhose runs, arrogance, losing touch with people, pineapple, overcooked pasta, having to wait a long time, mac and cheese, feelings of jealousy

MINI BIOGRAPHY

she grew up in hidehill, nashville, tennessee and she knew she was destined to be a ballerina the first time she saw The Nutcracker ballet. she begged her mother to let her go to ballet school, which luckily met a few days a week after school hours, which was the selling point that allowed her parents to let her go.

it was important to her parents that she finished her public education through high school at least, so she did and she didn’t slack off or anything in school. she tried to maintain decent grades, but it was clear she wasn’t as interested in classes that she couldn’t express her creativity in. she worked much harder to train and impress her teachers in ballet school.

her teachers often complimented her hard work, saying that she had excellent discipline and form. by the time she graduated high school, she had even been in minor roles for the Nashville Ballet’s Nutcracker but now she was ready to dance for the company full time. she would spend most of the ballet season downtown in the actual city of Nashville for the season and the few months she wasn’t on stage, she’d come back home.

she did have many solo performances throughout her years dancing for the Nashville Ballet, but she knew after battling through a few minor sprains that her body just wasn’t up for the rigor of the ballet anymore. she’s trying not to be bitter about moving back to her hometown full time, and she is excited about instilling the passion she has for dance in others.

connections: she really needs friends from all stages of life, maybe any other ballet dancers or dancers in general, artsy people, i’d love to have some fwb, hookups, exes, first loves, etc. too! i’m game for anything and everything!

#hidehillintro

[blogger360ncislarules]

t was, by every objective measure, one of the most devastating days of my life,” Dallas Jenkins recalls.

The Midwest-born director and son of a best-selling author of Christian novels had for years struggled to build a Hollywood career and had finally landed his big break: directing a movie for Get Out producer Jason Blum, who shared Jenkins’ belief that there was an untapped market for elevated religious fare. Their film — 2017’s rom-com The Resurrection of Gavin Stone — scored “insanely” well at a test screening and their hopes were high.

“I was at home with my wife and shell-shocked,” Jenkins recalls. Gavin Stone ranked 18th at the box office and opened to just $1.2 million. “I mean, we were crying. I thought this was my chance. I had finally got in the door. I was working with one of the most prolific and influential producers in Hollywood, who liked me. And it just completely failed. I thought, ‘Maybe this is the wrong business for me.’ ”

But within weeks, Jenkins had another idea. This one was for a TV series, which would go on to gather a flock of more than 200 million viewers worldwide who have watched at least one episode, largely driven by word-of-mouth. The show has also sold an incredible $63 million in theatrical ticket sales after becoming the first series to screen an entire season in theaters. It even has its own annual fan convention. All this, and you’ve probably barely heard of The Chosen, which tells the story of Jesus and his disciples across a planned seven seasons (the long-awaited fourth season will begin streaming June 2).

Yet to hear Jenkins tell it, the fact that The Chosen is still obscure to many is a very good thing. The 48-year-old producer is convinced his addictive, character-driven, serialized drama has the potential to reach new heights of mainstream popularity now that he’s made a global distribution deal with Lionsgate and the show is edging toward its most dramatic story beats yet (including a devastating, multi-episode crucifixion sequence).

His new studio partnership is a major step toward producing a slew of other modern takes on biblical stories that he’s developing. How about a Moses show? “Moses was like a reluctant Tony Soprano,” Jenkins pitches. “He was the head of the largest family and didn’t want to be.” Or Noah’s Ark? “The story of Noah is basically Parenthood on a boat,” he says. And, of course, he’s got plans for a Chosen sequel and prequels galore.

Get ready, the Jesus Cinematic Universe is coming.

“One of the most exciting things is that so many people tell us they’re into the show in the same way they’re into Marvel or DC,” Jenkins says. “But we didn’t do it cynically — ‘Let’s create a Marvel experience and find content that fits.’ It started with the content.”

“I WASN’T EVEN GETTING IN THE DOOR TO BE REJECTED”

As a teen growing up in Zion, Illinois, Jenkins’ interest in filmmaking was sparked by watching movies like One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and It’s a Wonderful Life. His fascination made him a bit of a rebel in his conservative, evangelical community. “The relationship that church folks had with Hollywood was almost exclusively antagonistic,” he says. “If the church engaged with Hollywood, it was usually in the form of a boycott.”

Like some movie-geek version of Kevin Bacon’s dancing character in Footloose, Jenkins would fantasize about making his own Oscar-winning film and secretly practice acceptance speeches in his bathroom mirror. “I wish I could say that ended when I was 15,” he admits. His community’s assumption that Christianity and Hollywood are mortal enemies, he figured, didn’t make sense.

“I remember fairly early on thinking that if we believe faith is relevant in the culture, then what’s stopping us from making things like others do in Hollywood who have their own message or agenda?” he says. “The best filmmakers are personal and have a voice. I thought: ‘Well, what’s wrong with me having my voice?’ ”

At age 25, Jenkins moved to Los Angeles and tried to build a career. He had one advantage: His father, Jerry B. Jenkins, co-wrote the best-selling Left Behind franchise — those apocalyptic, Book of Revelation-inspired novels that sold more than 60 million copies and spawned several films and games from 1995 to 2007. The elder Jenkins helped bankroll his son’s early filmmaking. “Dallas was embarrassed by a lot of Christian media and was saying, ‘We have to do this better,’ ” Jerry B. Jenkins recalls. “He didn’t want to be known as a Christian filmmaker. He just wanted to be known as a good filmmaker.”

Dallas adapted of one his father’s stories, Midnight Clear, and then shot a Capra-esque fantasy called What If. Neither popped. “I didn’t face a lot of rejection,” he says. “I wasn’t even getting into the door to be rejected. My movies weren’t on-the-nose evangelical enough to get a lot of success in that world, but I also wasn’t a good enough artsy-indie filmmaker to have a Sundance hit.”

Then Jenkins scored that deal with Blum, which seemingly gave him everything he wanted: an opportunity to make a wide-release, mainstream film with Christian values. “Dallas was friendly and talented and had a profound understanding of his audience — things they would respond to, and the things that would rub them the wrong way,” Blum recalls.

But when the movie’s crushing opening weekend numbers rolled in, Blum had to make the dreaded call.

“I said the same thing to Dallas that I’ve had to say to other directors,” Blum says, “which is this: ‘I’m sorry. I wish we could have delivered a hit for you.'” It’s a line that’s devastating in its politeness and lack of blame.

“I bet on the right guy, but the wrong project!” Blum adds. “I was one too early.”

“JESUS IS A BAD MAIN CHARACTER”

Like a protagonist in one of those faith-based movies that he finds so cheesy, Jenkins did what a despairing, down-on-his-luck Christian is supposed to do: turn himself over to a higher power. “I truly surrendered,” Jenkins says. “Instead of trying to make another big movie, I figured I’m going to do what I feel is best, what is most honoring to God and to my wife and people I care about. I’ll make anything.”

Jenkins shot a humble follow-up: a short film for his Harvest Bible Chapel megachurch’s Christmas Eve service (well, not that humble — he had a $100,000 budget). The short, written with Tyler Thompson, was about the birth of Christ, but told from the perspective of a shepherd. Jenkins had played with this idea before, having made another short about Jesus on the cross that focused on the two thieves being crucified alongside him. He discovered that following the lesser-known supporting characters in a classic divinity story gave his films a grounded and relatable feel.

During filming, Jenkins was struck by The Big Idea. He was jogging on a treadmill and bingeing HBO’s The Wire when he thought: What if somebody told the story of Christ in an ensemble drama series that jumps between different sociopolitical points of view like in The Wire, while focusing mainly on supporting players? This was two decades into the Peak TV boom, when streamers and cable networks had scrubbed their vaults for every piece of familiar rebootable content they could find, yet somehow nobody had tried updating the so-called greatest story ever told. “I thought, ‘Man, this could be so cool. Whoever does this is going to look really smart.'”

Also, potentially, massively controversial: The last filmmaker who dared to upend biblical storytelling conventions on a large canvas was Martin Scorsese with his widely boycotted 1988 film The Last Temptation of Christ. Jenkins didn’t want to become a pariah in his own community, yet also believed he couldn’t tell this story right for modern audiences unless he moved past Christian storytelling tropes.

“I know this sounds bad, but Jesus doesn’t actually make for a good main character,” he says. “He doesn’t learn anything. He doesn’t grow. He doesn’t struggle.”

Jenkins partnered with Angel Studios, which at the time was called VidAngel and mainly known for selling sanitized versions of popular movies for Christian home viewing. The company proposed a crowdfunding model like the Kickstarter campaign that revived Veronica Mars — why pay for something yourself if you don’t have to? Jenkins thought the crowdfunding idea was “ridiculous” and was stunned when they raised $11 million in their first round — a record for a TV or film project.

The first season of The Chosen is ultra-low-budget and uneven, yet still effective, with rural Texas doubling for Judaea and Galilee. (Jenkins’ production facility is in the tiny town of Midlothian.) The cast is full of ethnically diverse actors doing Middle Eastern accents. The story opens with Jesus as an adult, just as he’s starting to gather his disciples.

Right out of the gate, Jenkins and his co-writers made creative moves they knew were risky: Mary Magdalene (Elizabeth Tabish) is an alcoholic and sex abuse survivor. Matthew (Paras Patel) is a tax collector on the autism spectrum. Some of the oppressive Romans are rather likable. The show’s early protagonist is Simon (Shahar Isaac), who’s introduced having a fistfight in the street. “Simon has the biggest and most temperamental arc, and we thought, ‘He’s the James Kirk of the story,'” Jenkins says.

The pilot drew inspiration from The West Wing, with Jesus showing up in the last five minutes just like President Bartlet did on the NBC hit. (The show is like The West Wing in another respect, as it rivals Aaron Sorkin’s drama for its sheer amount of walking-and-talking — much of the show is likable bearded guys wandering around chatting.)

To cast his messiah, Jenkins hired Jonathan Roumie, an unknown actor who so effortlessly looks the part that he’d been teasingly called Jesus by friends for years. Roumie’s got the sad eyes down, and his Christ comes across like a warm and affable therapist with a desert-dry sense of humor. “Dallas tried to temper my expectations, like, ‘Look, this probably won’t go anywhere, but at least it’ll be a couple of episodes of work,'” recalls Roumie.

In some ways, the show’s lack of money for effects made it better. For scenes where Jesus performs a miracle, Jenkins considered several options. “Are we going to change his voice?” Jenkins recalls. “Are clouds going to come in? Are we going to have his eyes roll back in his head like Bran on Game of Thrones?” He decided to stage miracles in ways that were as non-flashy as possible. When Jesus fills Simon’s nets with fish, his boat abruptly luges to the side with a loud thud and Simon looks stunned. It’s the simplest filmmaking trick (a jump scare, actually — Jason Blum would approve), and it works.

Angel Studios debuted The Chosen on its app in 2019 in a bid to launch a new streaming service. It opened with a disclaimer warning viewers that creative changes were made to the Gospels and some character backstories and dialogue had been invented. “People just needed to know that I know that this is different and difficult,” Jenkins says. “I’m not apologizing — this is such a dangerous show that if I cared at all about what people think, it’d cripple me.”

CONTROVERSIES: BACKPACKS AND PRIDE FLAGS

The Chosen‘s viewership took off during the pandemic. Seasons have since sprung up on Netflix, Peacock, Hulu, Prime Video and The CW. The crowdfunding model has continued, with Jenkins as the face of the show, posting frequent production updates on social media.

Amid the growth, Jenkins has navigated tricky issues. Some evangelicals have slammed the show for its deviations from Scripture, its contemporary dialogue and the characters’ laid-back demeanor (Jesus dropped a wink!).

“I don’t think it’s modern at all,” Jenkins pushes back. “I think 2,000 years ago, people laughed and rolled their eyes and said casual things and had metaphors and colloquialisms. The very things that some people feel a little uncomfortable with are the things that have caused the show to be seen by millions of people. It feels modern because we have always seen these characters portrayed like they’re stained glass windows or statues.”

Some gripes can be incredibly specific, such as skepticism that Jesus ever wore a backpack. “They couldn’t have thought of a backpack back then?” Jenkins counters. “Two straps on a container is just so modern?”

There was a larger uproar over Mary Magdalene having a relapse in season two after she was saved. Yet that departure from Scripture led to one of the most affecting moments in the show, particularly among those in the recovery community, when Jesus welcomed her back (“You redeemed me and I threw it away,” Mary said, and Jesus drolly replied, “It’s not much of a redemption if it can be lost in a day, is it?).

Yet the show’s biggest controversy was sparked by behind-the-scenes footage released last year. An online video included a brief glimpse of a pride flag on a Chosen crewmember’s equipment. That might sound inconsequential, but for a significant segment of The Chosen‘s viewership, it was a scandal that incited, as Jenkins dubbed it, an “intra-Christian culture war.”

The conservative press accused the show of hypocritically endorsing “sin” and going woke (“The Chosen Can’t Serve Both God and LGBT Activists,” fumed a Federalist headline). Many threatened a boycott if Jenkins didn’t apologize and make changes to his employment practices (“Christians, just like we boycotted Target and Bud Light, we need to boycott The Chosen,” declared right-wing sports writer Jon Root).

Jenkins says he was filming an episode when the news broke, and he could see the affected crewmember staring at his phone. “People had figured out who he was and were calling for him to be fired,” Jenkins says. “He was like, ‘I didn’t want to bring this attention to the show.’ And I told him, ‘I love you. Do your job. Don’t worry about it. Let me take care of this.'”

Jenkins, who politically describes himself as a libertarian, posted a 19-minute response on YouTube. In an age of hypersensitivity to online outrage, and of studio controversies typically being addressed with brief, lawyer-approved PR statements, Jenkins’ message was refreshing in its thoughtful detail and polite-yet-firm refusal to kowtow.

“Everybody loves our cast and crew members … and they have widely different beliefs that go across the entire spectrum,” he says in the video. “We don’t have a political or religious litmus test for who we hire. We don’t police individual workspaces or social media. If this issue bothers you, that’s fine. But that’s not something for us to be concerned with or try to change. We are not a church.”

That last line, however, is a bit debatable.

“I TITHE A PORTION OF MY PAYCHECK TO HELP THE SERIES”

The Chosen is now a big deal, with some famous fans starting to emerge (“Just finished season 3 of The Chosen and I absolutely love it,” country star Blake Shelton posted on X last week, with Gwen Stefani chiming in, “Obsessed!”). Its fan convention, ChosenCon, is going into its second year in September and expected to bring in 5,000 fans. There’s an online merch business (their “Binge Jesus” T-shirt says it all). Earlier this year, Fathom Events screened the show’s upcoming fourth season in theaters. It’s a relationship that began with screening a single Chosen special coming out of the pandemic.

“That was the first time we really got confirmation that we had a tiger by the tail here,” says Fathom CEO Ray Nutt. “The audience reaction was spectacular.”

When fans approach Jesus actor Roumie, they don’t just want a photo. Couples want him to marry them, others want to touch him. They call him Jesus and suspect he might have some kind of healing power.

“It’s not the ordinary kind of celebrity encounters,” Roumie says. “It’s like people have things deep within their heart that they want to share with you, or they say the show has changed their lives — they haven’t been to church in 20 years and now they have a relationship with God. I’m a bit of an introvert, so I start to get a little anxiety.”

The show has creatively evolved, as has Jenkins’ strength as a director (he’s helmed every episode). In season two, there’s an impressive 13-minute continuous shot showing the disciples busily working a crowd that is waiting to be healed by Jesus. Jenkins’ team worked all day to get the ambitious take and nailed it during the final minutes of daylight. “You can actually see the sun going down during the shot,” Jenkins says. “At the end of the take, we ran out of light, and I burst into tears because there had been so much pressure.”

One of his proudest moments, Jenkins likes to say, was when he turned on Prime Video and saw The Chosen on the streamer’s most popular list along with Cocaine Bear. If that’s not getting Christ into the cultural mainstream, what is?

Yet as the show receives more media attention, there’s a term that makes Jenkins bristle: “faith-based.”

“I’m not ashamed that I’m an evangelical,” he says. “I’m not ashamed that it’s a show about Jesus. But we really do believe that the show can be watched by anybody, and we just don’t want people turning it off before they watch it because of a label. I’m not trying to, through the art, convert anybody or preach anything. It’s a historical drama.” The show’s internal surveys found that only about half its viewers are practicing Christians.

Religion is arguably mixed with the show’s business side, however. It’s hard to imagine a secular show being able to draw 12,000 fans to a Salvation Army camp to appear as extras over three days of filming, making their own costumes, and even paying $1,000 each for the privilege (it’s a savvy TV business model when your extras pay you).

Funds for the show’s first three seasons were raised by Angel Studios’ Pay It Forward service — the same crowdfunded method employed to make the polarizing sex trafficking movie Sound of Freedom a hit. In addition to taking a percentage cut off the top, Angel initially distributed the show exclusively on its app, which, as The Chosen LLC’s president, Brad Pelo, puts it, was “very, very confining.”

In 2022, The Chosen severed part of its Angel Studios relationship, claiming breach of contract, and replaced Pay It Forward with a nonprofit ministry called Come & See. Jenkins posts messages urging fans to make tax-deductible donations to Come & See, and there’s an implicit missionary angle to the pitch: By supporting The Chosen, you’re helping spread Jesus’ message to new audiences around the globe. The ministry also helps to arrange screenings of The Chosen in places such as prisons and churches, and has translated the show into 50 languages (toward an eventual goal of 600).

Wrote one viewer on The Chosen‘s subreddit, where fans sometimes worry that the show doesn’t have enough money to continue: “I tithe a portion of my paycheck to help fund the series. I get little thank you notes from all over the globe. It’s honestly incredible.”

One starts to wonder if Jenkins is the guy who’s not only figured out how to revive biblical epics for the streaming era, but also how to do so for televangelism in the YouTube age. When I press Jenkins as to why he still needs fan money four seasons into a production that’s being heavily consumed across so many platforms, he insists that fan support is essential to the show’s survival and that the streaming deals and merch sales haven’t come close to paying for production. Season four cost $40 million, and season five is only partly funded even as they’re currently filming. The ministry also helped pay for a $50 million production backlot, which includes two full-size soundstages.

This week, The Chosen wrapped arbitration with Angel, where it won a release from a crucial part of its original deal which gave Angel the show’s first distribution window. Once the show gained popularity, Jenkins and his team felt that debuting episodes on Angel’s app had become a hurdle towards securing more traditional backing. The show being available on so many streamers at once, Jenkins says, has been a double-edged sword.

“All of the funding for the production currently comes from Come & See; the license agreements we have with the streamers are not big,” Jenkins says. “It’s not a lot of money because they didn’t have exclusive rights to it. Until there’s an exclusive arrangement, or until somebody gets the first window, we absolutely still have to rely on donations.” The arbitration is also holding up the release of the show’s fourth season, which will get a streaming date as soon as a verdict is rendered.

Jenkins contrasts his situation to that of the other disruptive showrunner building a TV empire outside Fort Worth, Texas. “Taylor Sheridan has [MTV Entertainment Studios and 101 Studios] financing his stuff and probably doesn’t have his own company of 65 employees,” he says. “We have to generate our own profits. We are one of the most watched shows in the world, and yet even successful TV shows aren’t profitable for the first few years. Normally, a studio will say, ‘Let’s pump money into this show that we have made from our other projects.’ We don’t have that.”

Surprisingly, Jenkins and Sheridan haven’t met, though Jenkins would love to have a chat. He has questions about how to successfully grow one show into many. In addition to those Noah and Moses ideas, Jenkins envisions a Chosen sequel about the Book of Acts and the rise of the early church, a Ruth and Boaz movie, and an animated series for kids set in the world of The Chosen.

Like Young Jesus?

“Not that,” he says. “But we’re talking about a lot of Old Testament shows and spinoffs; we’ve already laid some Easter eggs for them — no pun intended. I don’t think the Old Testament is any trickier to do than The Crown or Rome or Vikings. We think we’re close to another tipping point.”

THE MOST DEVASTATING CRUCIFIXION EVER?

The Chosen‘s entire sixth season will cover just one day, Jenkins reveals, with the crucifixion itself taking hours of screen time. The plan isn’t to indulge in Mel Gibson-style torture à la The Passion of the Christ, but rather emotional devastation, taking advantage of how viewers will have already spent dozens of hours with Roumie’s yoga-studio-friendly messiah.

“In most portrayals, Jesus is on the cross, and you just see a bunch of people weeping and he’s being tortured and mocked,” Jenkins says. “We want to stress Jesus’ desire for comfort and connection with his friends and family. And that period of time lasted several hours, which hasn’t been portrayed before. We have the time and I have more tools in my tool belt for the crucifixion than other filmmakers had.”

Jenkins likens the season’s potential impact to, of all things, The Walking Dead gorily killing off fan favorite Glenn in season seven. “That was abnormally upsetting for audiences not just because of what happened, but because by then you cared so much about the person,” he says.

A rollout in theaters for seasons five and six is certain (though not yet planned), and in the meantime The Chosen won’t be Jenkins’ only work landing on the big screen. He recently completed filming Lionsgate’s The Best Christmas Pageant Ever, based on Barbara Robinson’s children’s novel about a group of impoverished kids staging a holiday play. The movie will test whether Jenkins can make a believer-nonbeliever crossover hit that’s set in modern times like the other films he tried before The Chosen came along. “It’s total chaos, and then, because of their poverty and outsider, tossed-aside, disadvantaged status, then end up closer to the story of Jesus than the regular people are,” Jenkins says

Jenkins’ father, unsurprisingly, is awfully proud of all this. “Somebody asked me recently when I thought The Chosen would surpass Left Behind in its impact,” Jerry B. Jenkins says. “That ship sailed a long time ago. The funny thing is Dallas used to be known as ‘Jerry Jenkins son.’ I’m now known as ‘Dallas Jenkins father.’ May it ever be so.”

Dallas, however, has some concerns. He doesn’t want to be seen as selling out to Hollywood, even though, to some degree, that’s precisely what needs to happen for his company to grow. He worries about screwing up — specifically, getting canceled. It’s one of the reasons he posts so many candid videos. He wants to put his own failings online so nobody else does it first (and, perhaps, build an army of supporters who will stand by him).

“I’m a flawed guy and I don’t want my own flaws to get in the way,” he says. “I used to struggle with pornography. I make inappropriate jokes on the set. My wife always says, ‘Your mouth’s going to bring you down at some point.’ I don’t want to trip on a land mine.”

Especially now, when he’s getting the Hollywood success and status that eluded him for so long. “I used to dream of being in meetings with the people who work for the people I’m meeting with now,” he says. “It’s fun to sit in a room with some of the most powerful people in Hollywood, who say, ‘We’d love to work with you.’ “

Do power players actually watch The Chosen, though?

“There’s always someone else in the room and they’ll say, ‘For two years, this person has been telling us we need to meet with you because they’re obsessed with it.’ “

Yet Jenkins long ago stopped giving those awards speeches to his bathroom mirror. “This show will never get an Emmy,” he says. He likewise used to make ambitious five-year plans, and swears he doesn’t anymore.

“I was always trying to please people,” Jenkins says. “I needed affirmation. I needed to be taken seriously. Now I genuinely — and I’m not just saying this — my only goal and hope and dream is to make season five, which I’m making now, as good as it can be, and to be a good husband and father. Some of the things that are happening now are things I used to greatly care about. And I think they’re happening because I don’t care about them anymore.”

#the chosen

[starlightkun]

okay im back so the post i linked to that was deleted was something along the lines of like "when my wife leaves for work i sit and face the wall and wait for her to come home" which was very changer and buzzer beater sungchan to me.

I did notice that your archived some of your old fics cause like another recent anon i have been reading your works since like 2019 (home was my first fic of yours and then the sleeping cinderella series and three kept me coming back) and yeah i get it there is a difference between some of your old fics and your fics from like three onwards and as a longtime fan its really nice to see how you've grown as an author.

as for the height inclusivity, i do completely understand cause there are many gorgeous, tall women out there but your comment about how kun is 1 inch taller than you was really funny to me cause like, you really said they ain't shit 💀💀💀 as for myself im 161cm so i know that if i was to meet renjun id probably reach his eyebrows or maybe his hairline if i was really lucky but in spirit im the same height as xiaojun, renjun, taeil and ten and if we met id like to imagine that we'd all be mischievous little gremlins together. (random side note i watched the fnaf movie the other day and josh hutcherson is like 165cm, he's bestie babygirl height but you wouldn't know it cause he's got a bit of a beefcake build and most of the movie was solo shots so you didnt have many chances to compare him to other people. on the other hand, matthew lillard, who plays the bad guy, is 192CM! there was a scene where hes standing at a desk as josh hutch leaves the room and it looks like matthew is standing on a platform cause of how big the height difference is). also you're right that sicheng is kind of considered tall now in comparison to the rest of wayv cause now that dozen left, its literally just one tall dude and 5 toddlers (also have you seen that clip of wayv being lowered off the stage standing all cool and shit like the avengers or something but the thing doesn't lower enough and they all have to duck and run off stage?) but yeah inclusion is super important and it really does detract from fics for me when im supposed to be a curvaceous blonde with blue eyes 💀

yeah when i was talking about the loserxloser typewriter content i was referring to baby fangs i just got confused cause of all the teeth related wip names (im slowly losing it i swear) but i didn't think that the bite would also have loser content? from the description i definitely thought it was just an enemies to lovers which personally isn't my favourite trope just cause when i dont like someone i find it really hard to see them as attractive at all but like it seems like its becoming more of an idiots to lovers instead and i am SO EXCITED because single parent aus are one of my favourite things.

yeah idk as someone who's short the centimetres or inches don't really matter to me when it comes to tall people cause either way they're gonna be taller than me (when it comes to other short people it matters very much because im competitive) so like people taller than me are either shorter than a fridge (average) or taller than a fridge (big boi bodacious/daddy long legs/step on me mummy)

also yeah i did really love how you showed how delusionally whipped love bites reader was for sungchan as well and i wouldnt be suprised if taro moves out within the next week from how his mathletes career was belittled.

I CANT BELIEVE YOU DIDNT REALISE THE INNUENDO BEFORE OH MY GOD i guess you were in big brain author mode when you were writing it and i was in gremlin 13 year old boy mode when i read it but the idea that you wrote it being completely genuine is SENDING ME. just werewolf sungchan making someones hole ache :( ❤️. I am so sorry for ruining your wonderfully crafted wholesome moment with this thought lmao (i remember you talking about wattpads feature to comment on individual paragraphs and now im wondering if anyone there has a dirty mind and picked up on it like i did or were moved by sungchans sweet apology instead)

as for the timeline, i did not expect romance is dead to be around the middle but then again i didnt really know much about how it fit contextually anyways. I also need to brush up on my american college language and term structure cause like freshman, sophomore, junior, senior like i kinda get but like sophomore sounds really fancy and junior is well, junior so i thought they would be flipped. Also in australia our school year starts at the beginning of the year and ends at the end cause summer is dec-feb but i forgot that its all flipped for you guys (the way the dreamies release really summery tracks in july but im listening to them as i sit indoors, wrapped in blankets)

also yeah i didnt expect pupsick to be before tdhea just cause of how present jeno was and you're right, he didn't do too much meddling in tdhea and was just kinda there but i genuinely just attributed it to being a personality thing cause there is no world where i can imagine him being more scheming than chenle, jaemin and hyuck 😭😭😭. but you saying "he was just kinda there......bc he had nothing better to do while pupsick!reader was at study sessions 😔 very conveniently-timed study sessions and bakery shifts without jeno that leave jeno completely free to be in every relevant scene for tdhea... aw shucks 😔😔😔" killed me. this poor little sad puppy man has to spend time with his friends cause his wonderful gf has a job and responsibilities :(

also love the note you added to the recent reblog of nipplejun. he is my little whore and i love him. the way i cheered seeing him show off his nipples like they're accessories made me feel like a supportive friend watching my small, shy bff transform into a small beefcake male stripper. also yes his bone structure is insane it continues to be insane like the lines created by his eyebrows, cheekbones and jaw make him snatched like a tiktok beauty influencer. desperately need him and bella hadid to meet cause 1. shes bella fucking hadid, 2. her name is bella and id love to see jun kinda awkwardly yet endearingly try to explain that to her that she shares the same name as his dog, 3. shes taller than him and would probably be wearing heels if they were meeting at an event so i would love to see him staring up at her 4. the FACE that would be served if they were in the same room?!

love you lots as well, i'm so happy that you enjoy my messages and that they make you smile :)

- ✨anon

under the cut bestie <33

omg "i sit and face the wall and wait for my wife to come home" is soooo changer!sc-coded ur so right (bb!sungchan does unfortunately have a collegiate hockey career or smth to attend to while his gf is away 😔)

and omggg another starlightkun veteran wow 🫶🫶 im really happy with the growth that i've made and im so happy that you've stuck around for so long 💗💗💗🫂🫂🫂

i remember josh hutchison being short but i didnt remmeber how short omg. also matthew lillard being so tall just feels right.

listen i do think that kun is one of the most gorgeous men i've ever seen. but i also am not so delulu that i think that one inch height difference is gonna do shit teebeeaych. like his official height is 176cm which is the same as donghun from a.c.e (i ult average-height kings apparently), who i have been face-to-face with (and physically touched, his hand was so warm 🥹💗) at a hi-touch event and he (and all of a.c.e) lowkey looked tinie to me lol 🫶

when it comes to ppl irl being taller/shorter than me i was always kinda tall growing up (usually one of the tallest in my class at school), then around high school i stopped being considered "tall" by the other kids bc the boys my age finally hit puberty and i stopped growing at 172cm/5'8" so i stopped considering myself to be tall and just sort of....average? except NOW i work in a weirdly short office. like my coworkers are all so short that i feel tall again 😭 truly height is relative. we have maybe 3 ppl in the whole office (out of 30+ employees) who are 180cm/6ft or more and NOBODY is over 187cm/6'2. i s2g most of the men are shorter than me, i feel like i could step on them and there is only one woman who is taller than me and she's probably only an inch or two taller than me, not considerably so. height soooo relative tbh 😭😭

as for taro in love bites, he for sure says he's going to move out like one a week but he would never, he loves bickering w changer!mc too much

SUNGCHAN WAS RLLY JUST TRYING TO BE THE SWEETEST BOY EVER AND APOLOGIZE FOR MAKING READER SO SAD WHEN THEY WERE BOTH PINING SEPARATELY AND MEANWHILE I HAVE LITTLE GREMLINS READING MY FICS 🫵🫵🫵 but honestly i should have realized what "aching hole" sounded like 😭 bc i can now never unhear it thanks 😭😭😭 (and no, nobody on wattpad has pointed it out if they've noticed lmao)

i never thought abt how the flipped seasons would change your school schedule but that makes complete sense! i always hear abt ppl in the southern hemisphere going to the beach on christmas (we also did that in florida to be fair, but it wasn't quite warm enough to go in the water)

yeah i do default to northern hemisphere season and usamerican university years/semesters bc that's how the flow of time makes sense in my brain and that's how it's easiest to keep track of the timelines in fics for me as i'm writing since it's what i'm accustomed to, but i'm sure it can be disorienting for ppl whose countries don't work like that, that's why i generally try not to make it too overt if it's not relevant to the plot of the fic. the timeline was just a fun little extra thing i was curious about if anybody had picked up on

literally the way dejun was holding the sides of the jacket open specifically to show off his nips like bestie at this point just unzip the jacket all the way 😭 and universe aint even anywhere close to a stripper song either he was wildin for naurrr reason i love his dramatic ass so much truly 💗💗💗

im always happy to hear from u and i hope you're doing well 🫶🫂💗

#answered #✨ anon #talk #text #mine #fb #f: love bites #f: changer #f: pupsick #au: strawberry sunday #strawberry sunday: meta #f: buzzer beater

[writerchickmarie]

John Lloyd Young’s Mostly Soul -  Getting To The Heart In Old Forge and NYC

John Lloyd Young can sing ANYTHING - and EVERYTHING. And he proved that this week in both the place where his dreams began, and the place where they came true.

The first place to experience this incarnation of his Mostly Soul set was Old Forge’s View Center For Arts And Culture in upstate New York, where JLY began dreaming of performing on Broadway and finding resources to start learning the history and the craft while he was growing up.  And on this night, many of his relatives were among other friends and fans to witness this special set.

The evening began with Tommy Faragher being introduced and taking the stage, and performing a rousing instrumental version of “What’d I Say”, then the introduction of JLY as he joined him on stage, singing the beautiful, smooth “So Amazing”.  

JLY shared many stories throughout the night, beginning with the one about “My Prayer” being his parents’ song that they slow danced to when they were dating,  much to the delight of his family members. And of course his rendition is even more soulful because of the connection with the song.

He also shared stories of friendship and mutual respect with several artists/songwriters whose songs he performs in his shows as he sang them, like songwriter Jerry Fuller’s “Show And Tell”...and when he sings Little Anthony’s “Hurt”, you actually get the feeling of your heart being ripped out along with his.  JLY mentioned that both his Italian and Welsh heritage contribute to that ability to truly feel the song and make the audience experience the feeling along with you.

For the Old Forge show, Tommy’s solo was his ever popular rendition of “Bring It On Home”.  At 54 Below, he alternated that song with his soulful take of “Stand By Me”. I spoke to a few people in Old Forge who were not only happy to have  JLY back, but were appreciative of Tommy’s talents and thrilled by his performance as well.  

JLY explained how he discovered when putting together his sets that most of his favorites were soul songs, which is how the Mostly Soul set came about.  He came around in the audience for “Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me”, getting to as  many friends and family members as he could. He also performed a new favorite, “You Are Everything” - this song was made for him to sing, to display every facet of his incredible vocal range.  Also included in the Old Forge show were “Since I Fell For You” and “Kiss And Say Goodbye”, and it was so good to hear both of them again.

JLY also included one of his originals in the set, as he talked about how all of these soul songs influenced his lyrics and Tommy’s music.  For this show, it was the meaningful and inspiring “Till The The Storm Is Done”, which is the perfect song for times like these.

The newest addition to this soul set is absolutely breathtaking. JLY talked about how when Frankie Valli was younger, he admired a singer named Rose Murphy and used to emulate her and perform a couple of her songs.  JLY revealed that he also had some female singers that he admired when he was growing up, and that he would also practice singing their songs, which works well with having an incredible falsetto. JLY’s idol was the one and only Nell Carter - and he blew all of us away as he performed her arrangement of “Mean To Me” from Ain’t Misbehavin’, while still making it his own.  It’s the ultimate showcase for the height, depth, and breadth of his vocal range, as well as his range of emotion. This one is definitely a keeper!

Of course he also sang a few Jersey Boys songs, while also sharing some fun, interesting, and revealing stories about filming the movie with Clint Eastwood.  The beauty of “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” and “My Eyes Adored You” will always be special. And JLY ended the evening with all of us on our feet for “Working My Way Back To You” and “Sherry”, leaving everyone on a high note and asking the powers-that-be at View to have him back to perform again.

A couple of days later, the Mostly Soul tour rolled into New York City to take 54 Below by storm for the next week.  On the evenings that I was there, most of the same songs were included, with a couple of others sometimes added into the mix. The lush, romantic “Sweet Love” opened the second night at 54 Below, with the original being the thoughtful, impassioned “Slow Dawn Calling”. Several of us met new people who were seeing JLY for the first time, and every single one of them loved the stories and were beyond impressed with his voice. And “Mean To Me” is continuing to impress friends and fans, along with several concert reviewers. It’s so outstanding that I hope it stays in the set for us to hear for years to come...and I would love to have a recording of it as well.

John Lloyd Young has completely come into his own on stage, in both story and song - and continues to outdo himself every time he performs.  I’m so excited to see what the future holds...and so happy and grateful that we are all on this soul train ride with him.  Looking forward to the new album when its ready (it’s almost there) and to many, many more live shows!

#john lloyd young #mostly soul #concert review #john lloyd young friends

[azalea-in-wonderland]

#daniela and carla #daniela x carla #in the heights #stephanie beatriz #daphne rubin-vega #SO WE DECIDED TO MAKE DANIELA AND CARLA OUR MARRIED COUPLE #ahhhh that pretty much confirms it's canon that they're married #from In the Heights: Finding Home about the making of the stage show and movie #guys there's soooo much stuff i had no idea this book was so huge #i haven't even read it just flippped through & that part jumped out at me #i'll share more if i find anything else about them #i highly recommend this book it's packed with info & backstage pics

[alessabriel]

Moments like those were unique with characters from tokyo revengers.

I'm really loving the Tokyo Revengers manga and I couldn't help but write about some characters, when I go later in the manga I will write about even more characters and I hoped to get it right. Take good care of yourselves, drink water and eat well, it is important to.

Anyway Byebye ✨

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➡️Draken | Ken Ryuuguuji

The sun filtered through the window with lilac curtains giving the room a slight glow illuminating the scene within it; a tall young man with blond hair sat on the floor on the black carpet with a noticeably smaller girl behind him.

There was no one else with whom he could let his guard down like this.

Draken despite the cold shower, knowing that he has rested well and that he should not be sleepy, your soft hands combing him make him drowsy, lethargic and with heavy eyelids, he could hardly see your reflection in the mirror in front of him. He, concentrated on his braid and there was nothing better in the world than you being so close that he could feel your warmth, your soft caresses.

With care and gentleness you manage each blonde strand between your fingers, intertwining little by little. You did not see the mirror, they only saw blonde locks that slipped between your fingers, he had beautiful and well-groomed hair. Almost finalizing the braid was when you directed your gaze towards the mirror in front of you; Draken seemed to be nowhere near falling asleep again from the way he nodded slightly.

"Are you sleepy Ryu?"

A denial was the answer clearly but you only laughed at the obviousness of his lie, he was so cute when he was so helpless and vulnerable with you. They were unique moments and by how he snuggled between your legs he said that he only wanted to spend a few more minutes like that, together.

In the morning when even their paths did not separate, Ken Ryuuguuji could allow himself moments of vulnerability where you would cradle him carefully, smiling at all times and he did not need to have his eyes open to know that your face only showed love, he had already gone through a long stage of doubts, denial and self-inflicted pain that knowing who you are, his partner, that you are by his side and that you do not have any doubt in loving him as he is, with everything included only makes him feel more secure. Draken didn't doubt his love for you, he never could.

"I just want to stay like this for a few minutes"

"All you wish Ryuu"

The "I love you" were in the air and were received by both, they knew that love was mutual ...

━━━━

➡️Mikey | Sano Manjiro.

The days you left school were naturally late thanks to the extra classes, the club, and other activities. It was normal to walk through the hallways of the school meeting only a few students from grades above who gave tired greetings, it must be difficult to be anywhere from leaving you assumed.

The silence was comforting as something cold.

Once with your outdoor shoes on, you left school seeing how your boyfriend was on his motorcycle with his cell phone in hand distracted, a clumsy idea emerged from the depths of your head and you executed it without thinking twice; you covered his eyes with your hands feeling the seconds how his hands touched yours, it was difficult to hold the laughter.

Mikey only limited himself to smiling without you seeing him, from the moment he felt your warm presence he knew it was you and only as confirmation the sweet aroma of your perfume invaded the air making it comforting, you were warmth, affection and home. You were so smiling, sweet, attentive and funny that sometimes he thought how you had noticed him.

As if you had a detector for his pessimism, you kissed your boyfriend on the cheek when you discovered his eyes showing your remarkable pout openly.

"You are bad guessing love" you accused fun catching your partner's face in your hands, you held between your little hands a mysterious, beautiful and so enigmatic world called Sano Manjiro "It will be that I am very good and I take you by surprise. What if? "

Mikey could only smile and let himself be carried away by your beautiful voice, you seemed to have a sixth sense for when he was just getting into negative thoughts about his relationship and he felt grateful for it, you were so special and irreplaceable.

"Aha, of course" accepted the blond amused, receiving another kiss with pleasure but this time on the lips. Mikey loved the feel of your smooth lips against his own, he could taste the taste of your gloss directly from your lips and it was the best feeling in the universe. "Come on I'll take you home."

The words died from the moment you got on the motorcycle behind your boyfriend, clinging with both arms to his waist and hiding your face from the wind that you knew would impact on your face that you still did not get used to. The soft roar of the motorcycle lulled you, the aroma of fabric softener, sun and sweets coming from your boyfriend only made you feel even more comfortable that it was inevitable not to rub your cheeks against his back, love overflowed from your heart .

"I love you Manji" you whispered softly, without the intention of making you listen but because of a red light one of Mikey's hands was caressing yours, you knew that he had heard you.

"I love you even more S / o-chan"

The green light on the traffic light sealed the rest of the trip in a pleasant and sweet silence, where they knew they were safe.

━━━━

➡️Hanagaki Takemichi

It was late when they finally managed to get out of the game room, both laughing at monumental losses in silly games but with a more than happy smile on their lips. Takemichi couldn't help but smile and feel the constant pounding on his chest as your fingers were intertwined with his own, it felt good.

"I had a lot of fun today Michi" you said once you were both waiting for the train at the station, your gaze fixed to the front and then looking at your side hoping to find him looking elsewhere but you met his unmistakable bright eyes that made you blush "We should go out like this more often, I say if you don't have more meetings with Touman "

"I think the same! We won't have any meetings at the moment so you will put up with me longer, ”Takemichi joked laughing.

"I like spending time with Takemichi-kun so it wouldn't be to put up with it, it would be spending quality time with my boyfriend"

You refuted by giggling when you heard that he was choking on his own saliva, so you let go of his hand to gently hit his back helping him out of his stupor. Takemichi could only try to stop coughing and when he did he felt you closer, one of your arms behind his back surrounding him and how you leaned against his. It was instinct and perhaps the feelings of him speaking for him since he left a kiss on your head, he could smell the fruity aroma of your shampoo and the unmistakable essence of your perfume.

Little did you know that your Takemichi could only think of a way to save you, never to lose your smile and treasure each new memory.

You were his first and only love ...

━━━━

➡️Atsushi Sendo | Akkun

The journey from his school to your school was about half an hour, but it was worth every tiny second for Atsushi who, like every Friday, had separated from his other friends to pass by you. Even though they had been going out as boyfriends for more than two and a half years, he still felt the nerves all over his body and the butterflies flying in his stomach that multiplied when he saw him leave the main doors laughing at something that your friends said, you looked beautiful with the glow of the sunset making you the center of their world. It was ridiculous how just by seeing you could make him fall in love more. Trying to regulate his nerves I wait for you when he saw you say goodbye to your friends and jog the rest of the way towards him. Was it even allowed to look this good and attractive in a school uniform? He did not know.

"Did you take too long Atsu?" you questioned your boyfriend smiling.

The other people ceased to exist the moment you approached him, the moment he could see your bright eyes and catch the sweet aroma of your perfume in the air.

"Not at all I just arrived a few minutes ago, how was school?"

With a remarkable pout you started with your remarkable anecdote of this day without even knowing that Atsushi was looking at you as if you were hanging the sun, the moon and the stars in the sky. Akkun only listened and commented from time to time, until it was his turn to tell about his day at school. Neither of them noticed when their hands clasped, it was natural.

━━━━

➡️Tachibana Hinata

The dark sky above their heads only gave more seriousness and intimacy at the moment, with her nerves on the surface Hinata could only see how the wind moved your hair and carried in it, the scent of your shampoo or perhaps your perfume. perfume that I gave you on your birthday a year ago?

"The moon is beautiful tonight" you said to the air.

Hinata did not take long to detect the message behind your prayer, endless nights watching k-dramas, anime and watching movies xianxia by your side made her understand the references, she loved how you expressed yourself so casually by dropping messages of your unconditional love.

"If the moon is beautiful S / o"

When Hinata thought that silence would fill the air, your voice was heard again but this time in front of her. Hinata could only swallow hard to see you standing in front of her, so she could see the difference in heights between the two and how the elegant beauty accentuated your being, you were so pretty and attractive that it could not cross her mind that you corresponded her feelings but there they were; in the park late at night on a romantic getaway that consisted of a motorcycle ride and talking in a park where they had confessed.

"But I can't help but think that I'm lucky to be able to call you my girlfriend Nat."

"It is not worth it! You always know what to say and you leave me like a fool in love looking at you. You're unfair S / o-chan! "

Before her words continued Hinata felt your lips brush against hers, your kisses were so soft and gentle that she felt so fragile in your arms, so loved and desired.

"I love you so much Nat"

The kisses continued gentle, soft and in order to communicate love, one more memory that the couple would engrave in her memory.

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✨ Here is the end, comments are welcome and if not has in the same way thanks ✨

💕

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #mikey x reader #draken x reader #Akkun x reader #Takemichi hanagaki x reader #Hinata tachibana x reader #Scenarios #Flulff #To rev #Tv #Tokyo revengers x s/o #Tokyo revengers x y/n

[blu-joons]

DATING TXT A⇴Z HEADCANON ⇴ Huening Kai

A ⇴ AFFECTION

Kai definitely enjoys being able to tall frame to wrap his arms around you, he prefers to usually stand behind you so that he can lean past and look at your face and admire how wide your smile was or how red your cheeks were.

B ⇴ BEFORE DATING

The two of you met when shooting at TXT music video, you were busy filming, but that didn’t stop Kai spotting you and having his attention captured. He wasn’t sure what it was about watching you hard at work, but the dedication you put into creating the perfect video for the five of them was something he greatly appreciated.

C ⇴ CONFESSION

When it came to confessing to you, Kai was absolutely terrified. The two of you had gotten along well since the shoot, but he was terrified of risking all of that by telling you how he felt. He ended up telling you one evening, his behaviour had been strange all night long, eventually leaving you no choice but to beg him to start opening up to you. Only you didn’t exactly expect what the next thing he said to you was.

D ⇴ DATES

Kai isn’t someone with a lot of get up and go, and so usually the two of you will have lazy dates together. You’ll meet up at someone’s place, and spend your days watching movies or playing games, anything that didn’t require you being on your feet and having to spend time outside. Instead, you’d spend your dates laying side by side with one another, usually a bowl of snacks in between you both, typically of Kai’s choosing because he’s a lot pickier than you are when it comes to food.

E ⇴ EXPERIENCE

Being the youngest definitely meant he got a bit of stick for dating you, but that didn’t stop him turning to the older members and asking for their advice a lot. Kai wanted to do things right, whilst you were professional on set at all times during future shoots, he wanted to make sure that you could enjoy yourselves with one another when you weren’t working. The last thing he wanted to do was mess things up, so he’d ask the others for their feedback a lot and see what they suggested he was doing, either right or wrong.

F ⇴ FIGHTING

Arguing was far from something that Kai enjoyed, in fact he usually tended to just stand around and take the hit when you were angry or frustrated with him or something else. He was a lot calmer of the two of you when it came to disagreements, he’d learnt to bite his tongue at the best of times anyway, but especially so around you. The last thing he wanted to do was raise his voice at you, and so usually wait until you reached a point when you were a little calmer to tell you his point of view and try and clear up any disagreements between the two of you like adults rather than turn it into a shouting match.

G ⇴ GETTING TO KNOW HIS FAMILY

His family is far from perfect, and so it definitely takes a while for Kai to open up fully to you about his relations. If there is one relation, he does tell you a lot about though, it’s his sisters. They’re his crutch, and he knows that if there’s anyone who will make you feel comfortable around his family, then it’s them.

H ⇴ HOME

Kai usually tended to spend a lot of time at your place so that the two of you could have some peace and quiet. On the days when he didn’t have work early the following morning, he’d stay over at yours, or at least try and stop by if he had a couple of hours before needing to head back to the dorm and the boys.

I ⇴ “I LOVE YOU”

He was convinced you were asleep, in fact he still refused to accept that you were awake when Kai was the first to say, ‘I love you.’ The words were uttered in barely a whisper, admiring your sleeping state, or so he thought. When your eyes fluttered open, he couldn’t quite believe it, instantly feeling his cheeks turn red.

J ⇴ JEALOUSY

A lot of time Kai was teased as the youngest, and for having a partner too. He would definitely find himself getting a little jealous if you spent too much time around any of the other members but wouldn’t dare say anything to them as he knew he’d only get mocked. When he got you alone, then he’d open up a little more about how he was feeling and how agitated he was at how the others acted around you. He only ever wanted to protect you, even if he did trust the others to never push the boundaries too far.

K ⇴ KIDS

Before having kids, Kai wanted the security blanket of knowing he wouldn’t end up bringing his children up in an environment that he had to endure. It took a long time for him to even open up about his dream of having children, he didn’t want his feelings to scare you off from the idea, but he was also honest. The last thing he wanted to do was give his children the same experiences that he had to live through.

L ⇴ LAUGHTER

Time with Kai could usually be guaranteed to be one thing, absolutely chaotic. He was forever making you laugh with his weird antics or how clumsy he was. Similarly, he was a noisy guy, and so would usually have you laughing at the different noises that he made or the rubbish jokes that he tried to tell you. Kai loved to make you laugh and enjoyed that you felt comfortable enough around him to really be yourself. He loved to laugh around you too, half the time you didn’t even realise what exactly you were doing, but you’d still hear Kai by your side, chuckling away at whatever it was that you did.

M ⇴ MISSING

He’ll always try and be strong for you when he’s on the road, he won’t want to upset you further by letting you see how much he misses you or how hard he finds it being separated from you. Kai tends to close off from you, but for his members, things are the complete opposite. He’ll find himself opening up to them more when he’s on the road and away from you, relying on them to at least try and fill the gap that you left in his life. Whilst it never is quite the same, the other boys know what Kai wants from them, and so will try their best to fill that void as best as they can, even if it is never truly enough.

N ⇴ NICKNAMES

Kai is quite traditional with his nicknames for you, ‘jagi,’ will usually be the one that he prefers before any other. The meaning and the sentiment behind it are always expressed with a lot of love from him.

O ⇴ OBSESSION

He’s obsessed with your hair, being taller, Kai loves to guide you with it and run his hands through it whenever he’s stood in front of you.

P ⇴ PDA

The priority whenever the two of you are in public is that you’re safe and secure, and Kai will definitely use his frame to reflect that. He’s not someone for grand gestures that might draw too much attention to yourselves, but he will always do enough to make sure that you’re happy and feel protected at his side.

Q ⇴ QUESTIONS

You usually have to ask Kai a lot of questions when you’re trying to convince him to listen to what you want to do. He’s hard to convince, but with enough questions and compromise, you eventually manage to wear him down.

R ⇴ RANDOM FACTS

When he’s on stage, Kai will always have a little signal that he sends into the camera to let you know that he’s thinking of you. He can pick up on the camera most of the time, and when he does, he always makes sure to send a double wink into it. One for the fans, who he knows love it when he does this, but the second for you, to make sure that you know that wink is solely dedicated to you and no one else.

S ⇴ SEX

Kai is always incredibly affectionate with you when it comes to intimacy, whilst he’s not a strong dom, he certainly uses his height to control the situation a little more and attempt to take care of you. It usually makes him incredibly shy too, the feeling of being so close to you was never something that he got used to, even as months and years passed, he still used the time to remind himself how lucky he was.

T ⇴ TEXTS

You’ll receive texts quite often from Kai, reminding you that he cares and wants to know how your day is going. Whenever he gets a break, it becomes a habit to pick up his phone before anything else and check in with you.

U ⇴ UNIVERSE

The two of you were partners in crime, you weren’t always the loudest couple in the room, but you were the couple that always captured everyone’s attention from how good you looked together and how sweet you were to one another.

V ⇴ VACATION

Kai had told you plenty of stories about his time in China, that there was nowhere else in the world you wanted to go when the chance to go on a trip came around. He couldn’t wait to show you so many of the places from his childhood and make even more memories in those places with you this time around.

W ⇴ WHINING

He definitely enjoys having your attention on him, and so if he wants you, and you’re not beside him, he’ll let you know just what he wants from you.

X ⇴ XXXXX

Kai’s favourite place to kiss on you is definitely the top of your head, he loves to emphasise the height difference between you both, however big or small it may be. He’ll love too when you have to go up on your tiptoes to reach a certain part on his body, there’s something about watching you stretch up and hold onto him for support, just for a kiss, that makes his heart happy and brings a smile to his face.

Y ⇴ YOU

You were the love of his life, even at the very first time at searching for it.

Z ⇴ ZZZ

Whenever the two of you fell asleep, Kai always made a point of trying to be the big spoon and wrapping his arms around you. He loved to be close to you and make sure you were the one that felt safe in his strong hold.

---

Masterlist

#txt #txt imagine #huening kai #huening kai imagine #kai huening #kai huening imagine #txt reaction #txt scenario #txt huening kai #txt drabble #txt headcanon #txt one shot #txt fluff #tomorrow x together #tomorrow x together imagine #hueningkai scenario #hueningkai reaction #hueningkai one shot #huening kai drabble #hueningkai fluff #kpop #kpop imagine

[let-them-read-fics]

Empress of the Heart (Pt. 2)

Synopsis / Request: “Reader is an actress, and she meets Jennie at an event. They have a one night stand afterward, and months later they meet again.”

Pairing: Jennie x Fem!Actress!Reader

Warnings / Misc: Smut (only in Pt. 1), Angst, Fluff

Here’s the second half of the request for you lovely peeps! Enjoy :)

Part 1

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

◇◇◇◇◇

"Y/N, more people are arriving and management wants us to greet them. Something about photo ops." Jackson, your fellow lead, says as he pokes his head into your dressing room. His entrance intruded on your thoughts of the beautiful brunette that effectively stole your heart away within a night, leaving you completely at her mercy despite being worlds away.  

"Alright, just give me a second." He nods and goes to stand outside your door -- you're expected to be seen together for a good portion of the night. Thankfully, though, Jackson is a good guy; he cares a lot about you, always doing everything in his power to keep you happy. The feeling is mutual; it's nice to have someone in your corner in an industry as unforgiving as this one. 

"Ready?" You ask, opening the door after you've checked yourself in the mirror and smoothed down any unruly hairs or clothing. Looking presentable is a must tonight -- you can't appear as wistful as you've been feeling lately. 

"Sure am." His answer is a bit unnecessary, seeing as how you asked a rhetorical question, but you send him a smile nonetheless. He offers you an arm, and soon the two of you are walking back towards the entrance of the building. 

--------

Waves of flashing cameras greet you for the second time tonight, now capturing you in your full glammed-out look. The first time had been a few hours ago when your team arrived to begin setting up and get all of you ready. 

The entire cast now stands stretched out in front of the large screen that will air the movie later, your arms around each other as you smile for the cameras. Promotional pictures shine behind you on the screen, serving as a perfect backdrop as they cycle through their predetermined slideshow.

Eventually, you all disperse to greet some guests. 

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Choi. It's wonderful seeing you again." 

"I hope you enjoy our performances, Mrs. Lee. Your support has meant the world to us." 

"Ah, Jeong! How've you been?" 

Countless faces pass by as you work hard to greet everyone, knowing full well your company will be upset if you slack off now. It's everyone's big night, so they obviously can't have their leading lady stopping for even a minute. 

You're almost ready to run to the restroom in order to have a moment to yourself, free of prying eyes and judgemental stares; but what you hear next sends a chill down your spine, an all too familiar ache in your chest. 

It's Jennie. She's laughing that wonderful laugh of hers, taking you back in time to when you first heard it. Her members must've said something really hilarious, because all of them are doubled over, clutching their stomachs with laughter. 

"Hey again," Jackson greets, and for a second you almost want to tell him to leave you alone. You don't, though, knowing you have no right to pull something like that. 

"YG's girl group just got here. Do you want to say hello?" Of course you do. You want to run into Jennie's arms and spin her around, reveling in the way her arms would surely wrap around you in that warm embrace that's so uniquely hers. You want to tell her a stupid joke to make her laugh again, like she had just a few moments ago. You want to talk to her. 

But you don't.

"No, not right now. I'm going to visit with my family, if that's alright with you." 

"Sure, sure." He says considerately, unwrapping his arm from you. You press a friendly kiss to his cheek as a thank you, letting it serve as a goodbye as well. 

"Eomma!" You shout, squeezing through the crowd when you spot her at one of the banquet tables lining the front of the room. The rest of the space is filled with rows of chairs, already set out for when the movie premieres. 

"Ah, baby girl. We're so proud of you." She says, holding you in a tight embrace as tears spill from her eyes. Her arms bring you comfort like no other, and you're beyond grateful to have her here tonight. Some of your friends stand behind her, too, waiting for their turn to say hello. 

Jennie watches you interact with them from across the room, and she feels a pang of sadness run through her. She's not naive to how these things work: your other cast mates had come over to greet her and girls, snapping pictures and even starting meaningful conversations in some cases -- all of that meaning you had been given the opportunity to do the same, but turned it down. Do you not want to see her? Maybe she had misjudged your night together. You are an actress, after all. 

She shakes her head, physically willing the thoughts to go away as she turns her focus to whatever new person was talking to them now. She continues stealing glances in your direction, finding you looking somewhere else every time. She'd give just about anything to have you look at her, if only for a moment. Just a glance, she thinks to herself, praying the universe hears her pleas. They seem to fall on deaf ears, though, because before she knows it the MC is calling all of you onto stage and the guests are directed to their seats. 

"Let's welcome the cast of Empress of the Heart!" The MC says cheerily, tucking his notecard underneath his arm in order to clap along with the audience. "They've spent months working hard for this project, travelling to filming locations in different countries, learning new languages, and facing their fears. We hope all of you thoroughly enjoy their performances. Now, I'll hand it over to our leads." 

You and Jackson bow towards the audience, waving at them politely as they applaud you again. He looks at you, a silent question of if you want to speak first, and you nod. Taking the mic from him, you say, "Firstly, I'd like to thank our incredible cast and crew. They played just as important a role in this movie as Jackson and I, and we're endlessly grateful for their hard work." More cheers ring out at your kind hearted show of appreciation, and you speak up again once they've died down. 

"These past few months have been some of the best of my life, and I owe that to people like you, and my fans. Thank you for taking a chance on me and supporting me. From the bottom of my heart, thank you." You say sincerely, looking into the camera that's recording all of this for exclusive content. When the movie drops for the public in a couple weeks, they'll be able to buy this tape as well and see highlights from the premiere. The thought of your fans watching it from the comfort of their own homes, yelling praises at their screens, makes you smile. 

Jackson takes over now, smoothly transitioning into his own mini speech of thanks. You stop your eyes from meeting the one pair that they so desperately want to, always keeping them trained on other parts of the crowd. If you allow your resolve to crumble, you'll get lost in her all over again and potentially screw up one of the biggest nights of your life. You can't take a risk like that. 

You laugh at something Jackson says, some joke about how you had to face your fear of heights for a scene in the movie, and Jennie takes a deep breath. She's not exactly jealous, but yet that's precisely the feeling that creeps its way into her chest. She knows that you're avoiding her for some reason, but she has no idea why. Did she do something wrong? 

--------

Why, why, did they have to sit Blackpink in the row right behind you? It's karmic, the universe's way of pushing you back to each other, but you don't know how to feel about it all. You can feel her eyes boring into you as each new scene plays, silently begging for you to turn around and talk to her, even if it's impolite to do so in the middle of a movie.

You don't, though, fighting every fiber of your being to keep yourself from giving in. 

Despite the emotions that swirl within her that pay little mind to the number they're doing on her heart, she actually finds herself enjoying parts of the movie. It's bittersweet, seeing you up there, but you command the screen in a way that seems to steal all coherent thoughts from her brain. You're truly skilled, and she gets a kick out of watching you hide behind your hands in embarrassment when your co-stars offer whispered praises.

During one scene in particular, though, Jennie's eyes drop to the floor, her teeth clenched together tightly. Your character just saved Jackson's from certain doom, and the two of you are sharing a long-overdue kiss. The rest of the crowd lets out approving noises at this, but Jennie is comforted by her members' soft smiles and reassuring touches. You feel guilty, for some reason, knowing that anything you were a part of made Jennie so upset. It shouldn't matter, though -- I mean, it's not like you and Jackson are actually together -- but still, it hurts Jennie to see him kiss you and hold you in the ways she wants to. 

The rest of the night carries on much the same, but later on, once you get enough courage to look for Jennie, she's gone. The other girls are too, and a sinking feeling settles in your chest. Gone -- again -- just like all that time ago. Your reasons for staying away from her were legitimate, but they felt nothing of the sort as you glanced around the crowd again. 

The movie ended earlier, already getting good marks and reviews from the critics who came to view it, and now the "afterparty" of sorts was kicking in. You hadn't expected the girls to stay long after the movie, but you'd at least hoped to utter a word to them, if nothing else. A smile would've sufficed. 

Realizing she's really gone, you let out a sad sigh and make your way down the hall, towards the large doors that lead to the balcony. If anything can clear your mind right now, surely it's a chilly breeze. 

You lay an arm against the sturdy railing, leaning on it as you massage your neck. All of the stress you've been put under is showing in the form of painful knots, far too many to get rid of in one go. You sigh, letting your head lull forward and lay against your arm.

"And here I was thinking I wouldn't see you again."

At the utterance, you turn around to find her leaned up against the stone wall of the building with a playful smirk on her lips. She's back to her old self in an instant, but you can sense the undertones of nervousness in her voice. 

The darkness of the night that envelops you two makes her eyes look even more feline -- even more alluring -- and it takes everything in you not to lose your train of thought. 

"Jennie." Her name comes out as a pleased declaration more than anything else, a familiar flutter taking over your heart at the sight of her. It's a warm feeling in your chest, and you never want it to go away. 

You try not to focus on the sensual swaying of her hips or the teasing look in her eye as she pushes herself away from the wall to approach you. 

"I thought you left." You breathe out, remembering how sad you were earlier. 

"Without getting you alone first? How could I?" The implication behind her words gives you pause, causing a blush to begin forming on your cheeks. You curse yourself for being so easy.

"I've missed you like crazy," she confesses, allowing herself to be vulnerable again. Now in front of you, she brushes the back of her fingertips against your cheek as you look into her eyes. 

"I've missed you, too -- more, probably," you say, the declaration sounding like an embarrassed sigh as it leaves your lips. She smiles at that -- her genuine, gummy smile that you've missed so much -- and your heart flutters again. 

She debates on asking the question that sits on the tip of her tongue, waiting to be answered. "Why didn't you greet me before, at the party?" Her voice is small now, insecure, as she avoids your gaze and stills her movements. 

"I-..." you start, finding yourself at a loss for words. Should you tell her how you feel?

"I was afraid you'd throw me off my game. You're pretty distracting, you know?" You reply, nudging her shoulder playfully. A hint of a smile tugs at her cheeks, unsure if it should finish the job and turn into a big one. 

"I thought I did something wrong." She informs.

"Not at all. In fact, you did things a little too right, if you ask me. I can't stay away from you, Jennie." Her heart trips and stumbles over itself in its pursuit of gaining a steady rhythm again, thrown off course by your words. 

Growing brave, she suggests, "Go on a date with me, then. I wanna have more nights like that with you." She whispers that last part, ghosting her fingertips over your skin to awaken the memories. 

"I'd like that," you smile, leaning in to kiss her lips. It's soft and gentle, much like your first one, and your heart hammers in your chest. It seems to forget that you've done this before, choosing instead to subject you to the giddiness you felt that first time with her. 

She pulls back to rest her forehead against yours, settling her arms around your waist, saying, "I've wanted to do that all night." You smile for the millionth time because of her, happy with how things have turned out.

"Do it again, then." 

And she does. 

#jennie kim #jennie x reader #jennie x fem reader #jennie kim x fem reader #blackpink #blackpink angst #blackpink smut #blackpink fluff #blackpink oneshots #blackpink imagines #blackpink scenarios #kpop #kpop girl group #kim jisoo #lisa manoban #rosé #park chaeyoung #let-them-read-fics

[outofsstyles]

AU | Famous!Reader x Fashion student!Harry

☁️ FIC PAGE ☁️ PART 1 ☁️

word count: 20.3k

warnings: language

//

Sweet tea in the summer

Cross your heart, won't tell no other

And though I can't recall your face

I still got love for you

- Seven, Taylor Swift

//

“Can you bend your arms one last time, please?” Harry quickly angles his arms, holding them at chest height to show Marcus what he’s referring to.

He stands in front of Harry, dressed in his full Gaston outfit for the last fitting before opening night. The atelier has gone hectic again now that everyone’s gotten back from their lunch breaks, a mess of fabrics and papers taking over every surface in the room. There’s a low mesh of voices blending with Moyra’s playlist playing on a speaker that’s probably lost somewhere by now. Someone rushes across the room in a speed walk and almost bumps into Harry, muttering a quick apology before disappearing behind the doors leading to storage. 

As the week approached, Harry was warned by pretty much every single one of his coworkers about the chaos that it would be. After all, it’s the last week of rehearsals, and the first time the actors would get in characters with their full costumes. All arrangements have to be done by Saturday morning, is what Lisa said with her stern voice the previous Friday, with no space for wardrobe malfunctions. She meant it as a warning, but Harry took it as motivation, knowing he works better under stressful situations — which is not the healthiest working ethic, he admits, but it gets the job done.

On top of it all, your unprompted visit has surprisingly given him the boost he needed to finish up most of his work with an entire day to spare. 

It’s only been two days since you appeared on his front door with a Brit statuette and a promise to make up for the years lost in each other’s lives. Your suggestion to go out for a coffee quickly showed itself to be a bit more complicated than both of you thought it would; as neither of you expected the conflict in your schedules when making those plans. This was a busy week for Harry and an even busier opening weekend. The only time he’ll actually be able to catch a breather is by Monday, which, coincidentally, is the same day you’re catching a flight back to America.

Still, none of you seemed to want to wait another week to meet again. So he proposed to meet after his Friday shift. Which is why he spent the entirety of Thursday inside the costume studio, being the last one to leave just so he could wrap everything a few hours early to meet you back at his flat — by your request.

Even with a day cut short, however, there’s been barely enough time for him to focus on anything other than measurements and fittings. It’s a good thing when it comes to his nerves; the tight schedule giving him no space to let any butterfly drift on his belly. Without the anxiousness on the way and work to keep himself busy, it’s as if the clock has gone with a leap. He sewed back details that had fallen off an extra’s costume while swallowing back the salad he’d brought for lunch, made sure Lumiere’s candleholders were fixed in place, and that no feathers from Plumette would sweep around the stage. Now, after having to make an adjustment to Gaston’s shirt - thanks to an unexpected problem with the stitching - he’s finally able to allow his shoulders to relax a bit.

Marcus mimics the movement shown to him, keeping his arms still as Harry takes a step to examine the character’s signature red shirt with his fingers fiddling with the tip of the measuring tape hanging around his shoulders.

“Does it still feel tight around your chest?” Harry asks, noting how the stitching on the sides is not stretching anymore. “Or under your arms?”

“Nope,” Marcus answers with a pop, relaxing his arms back down when Harry turns to write something down. “Fits like a glove, mate.”

He clicks his pen down on the table. “Then we’re all good.” 

“So, I’m free to go?” He jumps down from the platform, loosening the black leather belt that’s fastened around his waist.

“You’re free to go,” Harry confirms after a double-check at the file sitting on the table, making sure there’s no other change that’s needed on his costume. “Just put everything back in the bag and hang it on the rack.”

“Yes, sir.” Marcus shifts with the curtains of the changing room before disappearing inside of it.

“And make sure the label is still stuck to it!” Harry calls over his shoulder, listening to the mumbled response before turning back to the files on his hands. 

While he waits for Marcus to return, he gathers everything he needs to leave. A quick look at his phone that was left forgotten on top of a roll of blue-dyed camel tells him it’s around four, meaning he’s just in time. Checking the pages he’s been focusing on, Harry walks to the rack, selecting the two bags carrying the costumes he still needs to make adjustments on, placing them carefully over his work table before making his way to fetch his backpack.

As soon as Marcus is out, he gives a double check to see if the label is still stuck to the bag he just hanged - not entirely trusting the cast’s attention to those details - before collecting his belongings and heading for the door. He bids his goodbyes on his way out, catching the attention of Alice, who’s standing on a platform near the door while Moyra works on the skirt of her yellow dress with a few pins placed between her lips.

“Going already, H?” She asks, her eyes big as she looks down at him.

He stops in his tracks with a hand on the door handle gnawing on his inner cheek as he turns to face her. 

As soon as he meets her gaze, he notices the subtle tinge of pink painting over her cheekbones. It’s something that Harry’s gotten used to by now when speaking with Alice. 

He could tell she was shy from the moment he got to meet the entire cast, always standing quietly to the side reading her script, keeping her chats restricted to the same two people (which is funny enough of a contrast with her stage persona, considering she has the main role). But with Harry, she’s always been especially timid, and it didn’t take too long for him to learn from Moyra that the girl had taken a fancy on him — if the blushing wasn’t a big indicator.

It’s sweet, he reckons. She’s lovely enough, from the limited amount of conversations they had, and Harry finds it that maybe if she opened up a bit it would be nice to get to know her. Julia’s the one that always pesters him about it, though urging for Harry to make a move from the moment he told her about the girl’s crush on him. She says his romantic side gets especially annoying when he’s lonely, and he knows she’s right, but would never admit it to her face. So he just brushes it off, saying he’ll take the time to talk to Alice.

Except now. Harry knows he’s on the clock if he wants to make it in time to meet you. The last thing he wants is for you to have to stand on the street because he got caught up in her mutters. 

So he keeps his grip on the handle, hoping it’s enough of a hint for the conversation to be cut short, as he motions his arm that holds the clothes’ bags at the crook of his elbow. “Yeah, I- Lisa let me work on these at home.”

“So you’re not having a drink with us tonight?” Alice rushes out, eyes darting up at him, and her blush gets a shade stronger. When her lips part again, her voice comes out a bit lower,  “It’s the last one before opening night, and you haven’t gone in a while...”

“Harry’s too cool to hang out with us.” Moyra barges in the conversation, glancing teasingly at Harry from over her shoulder as she takes the last pin from between her lips.

“Shut up, Mo.” He rolls her eyes slightly, grip tightening on the door as he prepares to leave.

Before he can do so, Alice speaks up, her eyes falling again to her fingers that poke at her nails. “You know, bringing work home sometimes can cause stress… And stuff.” She peeks up at Harry, shrugging slightly. “I read about it somewhere, anyway.”

“I think I’ll be fine, really, but thanks.” Turning the knob, he cracks open the door.  “Just got something today.”

Moyra doesn’t waste a second before blurting, “A date.”

“Don’t.” He warns with a sigh. “I’m seeing an old friend.”

“That’s nice.” Alice nods.

“Yeah.” He takes a step out, being painfully aware of how he’s a second away from being late. “Uhm, I gotta get going then.”

The girl looks up at him fully then, giving a small wave. “See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, yeah, for sure.” He calls over his shoulder as he’s out the door.

The tube’s just starting to get filled again with people like Harry, who are likely on their journey back home. Shoulders tense and frowns scrunching their faces, they barely pay any mind to him as he finds a spot opposite to the exit doors — preferring to stay closer to them as to get off quicker. He leans against one of the many metal rails that outline the inside of the train car, his vans bouncing nervously as he adjusts the bags at the crook of his elbow, feeling as if today it’s traveling slower than usual. 

Picking up his phone to check the time once again, he’s met with a text. It’s not from you, as he’d hoped, but from Julia. A picture of her and Blake, faces squished together as they force a smile a bit too big for the camera, their hairs meshing together in a mix - Julia’s darker curls tangling with Blake’s shorter blonde locks - and Harry can just about make out the outline of a bright orange sofa from Blake’s living room behind them. The message that reads under it is short, yet playfully demanding.

Juls: impromptu movie night!!! bring chocolate!!!

He smiles down at the screen, but it quickly turns into a frown as he realizes that he won’t be able to make it. Biting down his bottom lip, his thumb hovers above the keyboard, not sure how to respond. There’s not a chance he can fully tell the truth to her, not over text. Even if he brushes over it, he knows his friend, and how nosy she can be sometimes — which has never bothered him before until he found himself in this position. He contemplates lying. A white one, there is. Just say he got caught up with work or something along those lies. Something he knows she’d understand. But the simple thought of it makes him feel guilty; as if he’s leaving her out.

So, he opts for the ladder, pushing the responsibility for his future self to deal with the interrogation afterwards when he sees her again. Maybe if he finishes the tv show she’s been nagging him to watch in time, it’ll be enough of a distraction so she won’t ask him many questions. His answer comes a bit slower than usual — not only due to his internal battle but also for finding it a bit tricky to type with one hand. By the time he clicks the send button, Julia has already sent enough interrogation points to cover half of the screen.

Can’t tonighttt got something...

Juls: what’s something

I’ll tell you later, send Blake a hug for me.

Juls: no :(

With a chuckle, he pockets his phone,  noticing he’s just a couple of steps away from his own. Once he’s out of the station, just a couple blocks away from his building, the bundle of nerves he’s been avoiding all day sweeps in. They’re not overwhelming, they don’t make his chest tighten or his palms sweat, no. They’re the nerves that give him a spring to his step, that make him take deeper breaths, and that speed his heart just the tiniest bit.

It’s a strange feeling to be going home with the sky still shining a clear blue, instead of the purple-pink that comes just before the sun hugs the horizon. A cloudless day. Thanks to the previous streak of rainfalls that washed away the angry greys. The colors painting his surroundings seem somehow more vibrant, more welcoming. The greens of the trees greet him with a gentle breeze. The maroons of the bricked buildings warm under the sunlight. Even the yellow and the pink of his dirty vans feel a bit brighter as he strolls around the corner of his block.

It’s almost like it matches the way he feels. And Harry knows that from now on, with spring at its peak and summer becoming more present, the weather is bound to become even more pleasant. He hopes it’s some sort of sign. Maybe the universe is getting gentler with him. He’d like to think that.

Part of him still dwells on the feeling the slightest bit, finding a strange sort of uncertainty over how quickly you’ve got at the palm of your hand again. He barely got any sleep after you left his house just thinking about it, actually. There’s no denying that your presence again has brought back the fondest memories of his teenage years. Ones he tried too hard to bury as to ease the ache in his heart that came with them for a long time. But now, having you back, it’s as if they’ve taken almost a hopeful feeling. The reminders of how close you used to be came crashing into him like a wave, enveloping him. That was the first time he ever opened up so fully to someone, after all. And that comfort of having someone that knows him better than he knows himself is something he craves so deeply within himself that, as soon as even the slimmest possibility of having it once again presented itself, he grasped it so quickly that now he’s afraid he’s letting himself dive too deep.

He’s so inside of his head, thoughts rushing inside his mind, that he almost glances over you when he finally approaches his building. 

Paying little to no mind to your cream trousers as you kneel on the sidewalk, a paper bag propped under your arm and a disposable cup holder in your hand hugging two paper cups, you focus on a collie that’s enjoying your hand caressing the fur down its neck. A gold pendant from your necklace reflects the weak rays of sunlight, glowing in a contrast with the black of the short-sleeved turtleneck you’re wearing, tucked under your trousers. 

It’s only when he lets his eyes focus on the company you have that he immediately recognizes the pup, as well as the older lady holding the leash while smiling down at you interacting with her pet.  

Margaret is one of the oldest residents of the building, taking a permanent spot at the very first apartment on the first floor. She was the first neighbor he got to meet, bringing him homemade jelly tarts on his first weekend at his apartment. They chatted for an afternoon and, after admitting he’s not the best cook, she vowed to bring him some of her dishes every time she could. And true to her world, around twice a week she knocks on his door with a warm trail and a sweet smile. Harry likes to visit her as often as he can, knowing she lost her husband a few years before he moved, and has no children to keep her company — that is, apart from her collie, Duchess.

“Harry!” Margaret is the first to acknowledge him with a grin, her voice causing your head to snap up from where you kneel. “You’re early today, my love.”

“Actually, I’m a bit late.” He chuckles, glancing at where you’re standing up while sweeping your trousers. “Sorry about that.”

“Oh! No worries, I just got here.” You brush it off, finding a place next to him before gazing back at Margaret. The older lady attempts to look discreetly between the two of you, brows arched, and Harry knows from the look in her eyes he’ll probably have to face another interrogation later on. Though, in this case, he’s sure she’s oblivious of your public image. “And, thankfully, I bumped into these lovely ladies who kept me company.”

“Stop that! You’re a very lovely lady yourself, darling.” Margaret reaches for Harry’s wrist as she smiles at you, giving it a squeeze, and he quickly nods, agreeing with her. She looks up at him, lips tight in a grin that’s enough for him to realize her assumptions about why you’re here, and, from the way you’re holding back a laugh yourself, he’s sure you’ve noticed, too. He clears his throat, gazing down at his shoes, trying to cover up the warmth that creeps up his neck, and that seems to be enough for Margaret to take a hint, letting his wrist go with another gentle squeeze. “I’ll leave you two be, Duchess and I still have to grab groceries before it gets dark.”

Harry scratches his nose in a nervous tick. “‘Ave a good day, Marg.”

“You too, Lovie.” She gives his hip a soft pinch before turning to you. “It was lovely meeting you.”

“Right back at you!” You answer excitedly, waving back as the older lady starts her stroll. “Have a nice walk! Bye, Duchess.”

For a second, you quietly watch the duo walk further away from where you stand. A faint hum of car engines can be heard, being cut only by the high-pitched voices of two children, seeming not much older than ten, as they appear at the other side of the street. The peek over your shoulder is quick before you turn your back to them, turning fully to Harry with a slight smile tugging at the side of your lips. 

He clears his throat again, adjusting the bags he’s still holding. “Hi.” 

“Hey.” You answer in a beat, nodding towards him. “Your hair is down.”

“It is, yeah.” His voice comes lower than he intended, the warmth still present on his cheeks, and he quickly motions towards the front door. While fiddling with the side pocket of his backpack in search of his keys, he picks up as you lean into the bricked wall next to the entrance.

“It looks great, really! Wasn’t expecting it to be this long.”

“Yea, I- Thanks.” He shoots you a look once he fetches the keys. “Have been growing it out for a few months now.”

You give him a knowing hum. “Any reason for it?”

The click of your boots against the wooden steps echoes around the narrow walls of the building’s staircase. Harry leads the way up, climbing the steps in a bit of an awkward position as he tries to look back at you.“Uh, not really, no.”  He shrugs. “Just having fun with it, I guess.”

“That’s how it’s supposed to be!” You exclaim. “It really compliments you, I mean it.”

“Thank you.” He rubs his nose, coming to a stop as both of you reach his front door. “You- Uh, I- You look very nice, as well.”

“Oh!” You look down at your outfit with a chuckle. “I rarely go around this fancy, but I had a meeting today.” You brush it off. “Which is also not an excuse for me to dress up but I didn’t know most people there so I had to make a good impression, or whatever.”

A dimple pokes at his cheek as you ramble, a habit you seem to haven’t lost. He unlocks the door with ease, pushing it in and motioning for you to walk in. “‘S nice, very pretty, I- I mean, your trousers are very pretty.”

Your smile grows as you support yourself on the wall while toeing off your shoes. If you notice the blush on his cheeks, you don’t mention it. “Thank you! Means a lot coming from you, you know?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, you’re the fashion student, after all.” He’s not sure why your answer comes in a bit of a letdown, almost as if he was expecting you to say something else. “By the way, I got us some goodies on the way. Didn’t know how you like your coffee, so I just took a wild guess. Here, try it— If you don’t like it you can have mine, it’s a cappuccino, very sweet.” You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, watching for his reaction as he sips on the hot beverage. “So...?”

“It’s perfect.” He takes another small sip of the cup you handed to him, trying not to make a face at the slightly bitter taste that comes with it (he’s still not the biggest coffee fan, if he’s honest). He makes his way to lay the bags that now have slid down his elbow at the arm of the couch. Noticing you’re still standing awkwardly by the front door looking around, he points at the counter next to him, quickly sweeping his arm over it to brush the stack of papers to the side.  “You can set everything in here, please feel at home.”

This is the first time you properly get to have a look around his place, which is weird enough of a concept when you take into consideration it’s not the first time you’ve come here (and the flash memory of that night alone is enough for you to fight back a cringe). You recall the path to your right leading towards the bathroom where you spent an hour sitting inside his bathtub before having to answer a not-very-pleased Sonia calling your phone. The rest of the place, however, is a bit of a blur in your memory, so you take this moment to take in his home.

Surely, the space itself is quite modest, but it doesn’t mean there’s not a lot to take in. From your position across from him, the island separating the two of you, you can still scan most of his living room. 

You like that it’s not completely tidy (those sorts of crystal clean homes always freak you out a bit). Upon a first glance, it’s clearly the residence of an undergrad. A couple textbooks pile on top of a center table. A shut laptop sitting next to the cushions on the navy blue couch. Even a few houseplants amongst picture frames spread on shelves and stands. It’s cute, you think, but you barely sweep your eyes over those details.

What calls your attention are the glimpses of the life you’ve missed on. It’s the magazines decorated with sticky notes. It’s the rolls of fabric peeking out from the couch arm. It’s a box of yarn tucked in the far corner, on top of other boxes that are shut closed. Those details seem to have replaced his canvases and paint sets. It makes you wonder if he still keeps them hidden somewhere. If there’s still anything left of the life he had the last time you saw him. 

Oddly enough, you smile at the thought. Somehow glad that he found his passion, even if you weren’t there to support him through it. And it brings you back to why you’re here in the first place. Make up for the lost time.

“Thank you for agreeing to do this here.” You speak up as you focus back on taking the sweets you so carefully picked out from inside the bag (you weren’t entirely sure of his dessert preferences now, which caused the slightest rise of panic as you tried to decide on what to pick from the vast array of options). “I know it’s weird to ask you to, like, have me at your house instead of just meeting at a cafe, but the one I usually go to is closed for renovations and I get a bit wary at, uh, public places.”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind having you here.” A small grin tugs at his lips, and it’s hard for you to ignore the warmth that comes to you with it. 

You clap your hands together, gazing around quickly before focusing back on him. “So! I finally get to properly see your place— sorry about that the other night, by the way, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He chuckles. “It’s really okay, like I said, don’t mind having you here.” He repeats, clearing his throat. “It’s, uh, not that big but-”

“I love it, seems so cozy.” You interrupt before he can go on any further, hating the way he feels the need to apologize to you for something like the size of his home. “And it’s a perfect place to have just for yourself.”

“Actually, I-” His lips stay apart for half a second before he continues, blurting the next words out as if it’s a confession, “I have a flatmate.”

“Oh!” You blink in surprise, taking a second to process the information. 

Of course he does. Why did you even think otherwise? Most people share flats these days. Despite that, the possibility of him living with someone didn’t even cross your mind. It’s hard to ignore when it comes to you the riskiness of it. Whoever this flatmate is, you don’t know them, and the possibility of them spilling anything makes you a tad uneasy. It could easily ruin any possibility of a friendship with Harry before you can even get close to him again. 

There’s a wave of anxiety that hits you with the prospect of being the cause of his face printed on the cover of money-hungry tabloids, but, before you get deeper in your own nerves than you already have, you sum what’s left of composure within you to ask,  “Do they... Have you told them about-- well, me?”

He tears up a piece of banana bread, picking at it as he shakes his head, clearly unaware of your change in moods. “Not, really. She’s at her girlfriend’s for the week, so I haven’t been able to see her.”

You try to hide the way your eyes widen the slightest bit with the information that said flatmate is a she. “Is she a fashion student as well?”

“No, she’s a journalist. She works— well, interns for a music magazine, actually.”

Of course she’s a fucking journalist. When you think it couldn’t get any worse. “Anything that would ring a bell?”

“I don’t think so, they’re quite small.” He shrugs, sipping at his coffee.  “Don’t even have an office, they do most of the work online.”

“That’s interesting.” You nod, nails picking at a few crumbs dotted around the counter. Scrunching your lips, you try to consider how to word what you’re about to say. Knowing this conversation would have to be brought up eventually doesn’t make it any less awkward for you to have it. You peek up at him from under your lashes, only to find his oblivious state as he smiles back at you. “Harry… Can I ask you for a favour?” 

“Course.”

Inhaling deeply, you attempt not to let your voice come out as calculated as the words that roll out of your lips are. “Could you… Just for a bit, not mention anything about me to her?”

Harry’s expression falls to a frown. “What do you mean?”

“Just--” You pause, resting your cup down before turning to face him fully. “Just for a little while, I-- You have to understand that I would like to be a bit more private… About us?”

“Us?”

“Our friendship… I-” There it is again, the gust of panic. It makes you spit out the words before you can even process them,  “I wouldn’t want any headlines.” 

This only seems to worsen everything it seems, as Harry sits back on his stool, putting more space between you two. He shakes his head, “Julia would never do that.”

“I’m sure she wouldn't!” You rush, attempting to fix it. “It’s just… She could mention it to someone, and-- I don’t know, these things get out of hand really fast.” 

“So you want me to lie to her?”

“Not lie.” You chew at your bottom lip, sure that you’re a word away from getting kicked out. “Just, not to mention it… Just for a little while, it’s not like it can be a secret forever.”

“Right.” He slowly starts to nod, falling quiet for a beat too long. “Sure, yeah, okay.”

You exhale in relief, softening your expression. “Thank you.”

A silence falls between the two of you and, for the first time since your reconnection, it’s not much of a comfortable one. You have to swallow back the guilt that threatens to take over, knowing the awkwardness is mainly your fault for dealing with your request in such an awful way. Of course, you would have to have the privacy talk with Harry eventually, ideally being sooner rather than later. But asking him to lie and insinuating that his friend could use you to sell her magazine is most certainly the worst way you could’ve chosen to go about it. And there’s nothing to stop yourself from feeling completely stupid while picking at the brownie in front of you.

There’s a part of you, one that comes a bit louder now, that ponders if even bother continuing this in the first place; if it wouldn’t be better to spare him the burden that the simple association with you will bring into his life. You know it would be easier, better for him even, if you just collect your stuff now and walk out the door to never contact him again. If you excused this meeting as a lapse of rationality on your part. And just like that, you could let him go on with his regular life, having to come to terms with him painting a picture of you as another arrogant celebrity that just toyed with him for a bit before she got bored. It would hurt, sure, but this part of you tries to reason that it’s the best you could do for him.

Another part, though, a more selfish one that is, can’t bear the thought of standing up from your stool and just simply turn your back to this as if it never happened. No, you can’t bring yourself to do that. Not when meeting Harry again has brought you a sense of comfort you hadn’t even realized you’ve been lacking for months now. Not when he feels like the only person who doesn’t have an image of you shadowed by this big bright monster of fame — one that calls everyone’s attention before they can even take a proper look at you. You know he doesn’t need that, because of all the versions you present of yourself, he’s one of the few people that know which is the real one. 

This part of you makes you act thoughtlessly, letting your emotions speak louder than your brain. It makes you want to follow the immediate sense of relief that comes in knowing there’s no need to change anything to fit an imaginary narrative someone has made of you. There’s no need to do that with Harry. You’re so desperate to keep that ease that comes with being in his presence, that any thought of how it’ll eventually come crashing down on you is pushed to the back of your mind.

Worrying your lip between your teeth, you risk a glance up at him. To your relief, there’s not a crease between his brows like you expected. He doesn’t seem upset about your question anymore, his shoulders relaxed while he focuses on tearing a piece of the banana bread and shoving it into his mouth. The realization makes you straighten your posture, a sudden rush of determination flushing through your body. You’ve come here to get to know him again, and you’re not letting a poor start weigh you down. And, as your gaze falls to the costume bags lying across the couch arm behind him, an inquiry that has been floating through your mind comes back to you.

“So…” You clear your throat, leaning your elbow to rest on top of the counter as you rest your chin on your palm. Harry’s eyes shoot up at you, and you grin a bit as you point to the spot behind him. “Are you going to tell me a bit about that?”

His brows frown for a second as he looks back, finding the bags that called your attention from the moment you saw him on the sidewalk.  “What would you like to know?”

“Well, last time we spoke you were talking about working in a gallery.” You circle your cup in your hand, bringing it up to your lips but not yet taking a sip.  “And now, I have the information that you dropped out just a wee after; how did that happen?”

"It took a while for it to happen, actually.”  He crosses his arms on top of the counter, leaning in slightly. “Dunno if you remember but, uhm… This might be a bit awkward.”

Your brows raise towards your hairline, his words only enhancing your curiosity. “It’s okay, whatever you feel comfortable sharing.”

“I don’t mind it, just- well, after we broke up,” He starts, clearing his throat as his gaze searches for yours, eyes flickering between your own in search of a reaction. He was right. This is awkward. You try to remain a calm expression, nodding in encouragement for him to continue — although you want nothing more than to flinch at the words. “I was, uh, well, sad.” He lets out a quick chuckle. “A friend of mine- James, dunno if you remember them- they recommended a knitting group class kinda thing that they were in every Wednesday, told me it was quite therapeutic and calming, and stuff.”

“That’s cute.” You comment, trying to brush off the way your chest tightens at the brief mention of his feelings post-breakup, knowing how hard it was for both of you.

He smiles at you before continuing, “Got the hang of it pretty fast, actually. James was right being therapeutic. After a bit, I started going twice a week.” He reaches to brush his fingers over a napkin. You watch as his fingertips slide gently along its edge. “The lady that taught it, Laura- you’d ‘ve loved her, used to bake us biscuits every week. She had graduated in fashion, actually owned a boutique for a good fifty years.”

“Holy shit,” Your lips part in awe. “Can you imagine doing something for that long?”

“‘S exactly what got me thinking.” He peeks up at you, lips twitching up. “Around that time I was so confused about what to do with an art degree, and I realized it wasn’t really something I saw myself doing for decades on end.” 

Understanding, you give him a warm smile, toying with the lid of your cup as to not reach for his hand. Even though you weren’t around anymore at the time the events he’s describing took place, you still remember how confused he was right from the start. Harry’s always had an artist in him, and that’s something that wasn’t hard for anyone to see, but it was clear then how he wasn’t completely satisfied with his path. Back then, before you two parted ways, you recall thinking he was still adjusting with uni, and that eventually, he’d find his passion within the arts. It never occurred to you he might not be in the field he loved, after all. 

Looking back at it now, it makes sense.

“Laura helped me a lot during that time. She was the one that even introduced fashion as a possibility for me, we would talk for hours.” It’s hard to miss the fond smile that tugs his lips at the memory. “She even started inviting me for a cuppa outside of class hours, answer all my questions- even the stupid ones, she was really patient. Was almost like a mentor of sorts.” 

“She sounds like an awesome human.” Your voice is gentle, admiring how the words come out of him with an admiration that makes you warm all over.

“She was.” His eyes fall to his hands. Your expression softens, suddenly noticing how he’s been using the past tense when talking about her. “She told me once that sometimes making a career out of a hobby is not always the way to go, you know? Takes away the fun of it if you feel obligated to do it. It was then when I decided to switch.”

“Were you scared?” 

“Terrified.” You two laugh. “I was choosing a path that I’d never even considered before. It was so new, I was so scared I wasn’t making the right decision. It scared me that maybe fashion wasn’t also my thing, you know? Cause if it wasn’t, then what?”

“I get that.” You risk resting your hand next to his, sticking your pinky out to brush against his. He quickly interlaced them, smiling down at the gesture. “I’m glad it worked out, and you found something you’re passionate about.”

“Me too.” He replies, mimicking your position as he brings the hand that’s not enlaced with yours to rest under his cheek.

You smile, and he smiles, too.  

//

“Why can’t we just stay in tonight?”

The question leaves your lips in almost an annoyed huff. The third one in the last five minutes. Aya doesn’t spare you a glance this time, her eyes focusing solely on sweeping the white eyeliner over her eyelid as she finishes the last few touches of her makeup.

Her apartment is lit up with a golden glow, the lights having been lowered and the flame of a couple of green lavender candles helping set the relaxing energy of the room. It’s the primary reason you love staying at Aya’s; her place is always cozy, no matter which house of hers you’re in (even though you have a softer spot for her New York apartment). And it helps to have company, since your place has been uneasily empty lately. 

The original plan was simple: make dinner while catching up with the last Game of Thrones season. You’ve been looking forward to it all week. After days of hopping from long meetings to recording sessions, only to go home to your cold bed, reuniting with Aya was the one thing that kept you from catching the first flight back to London as soon as your errands were dealt with. So, it’s hard not to express your disappointment about having to attend some dinner party a good thirty minutes away from her warm apartment.

The thing is, the suggestion didn’t even come from Aya, but rather a surprise guest you weren’t even expecting to be here at the same time as you, Claire. 

And it’s not like you don’t like Claire, you do, well, you try to, which is the best you can do for now. She's been friends with Aya for a couple of months and, with Aya, it’s not that hard to become friends with her, if you’re honest. So you never really bother to keep track of the ones that come and go as quick as the pendulum of a clock. It’s something you’ve grown used to with the years of friendship. But unlike most of them, Claire seems to have stuck like an annoying piece of gum at the bottom of your boots.

In reality, you know it’s unfair to her to be annoyed when she’s really done nothing wrong. The sole reason for you two not mashing that well is more of a conflict in personalities than anything else. Usually, you manage to ignore that in order to keep at least somewhat of a friendly relationship with her during nights out -- more for Aya’s sake than yours. And sometimes you even enjoy her presence! When she’s not surrounded by big groups of people  (rare) and doesn’t feel the need to be obnoxiously loud for no reason, at those times when it’s just the three of you, she’s actually quite nice to talk to.

But now, you honestly wish you could glue her lips together and quite literally kick her out the front door. As she rushes around the place, - from the walk-in closet to the bathroom to the bedroom and so on - her voice so loud in attempts to speak over the playlist she put on just over two hours ago. The mesh of noises is so much you’d be sure no one heard your complaint if it wasn’t for Aya’s reply just a minute later.

“We stay in every day.” You watch as she bends over the sink, getting closer to the mirrored wall as she applies her lipstick carefully. With a smack of her lips, her eyes meet yours in the reflection. “I think it’d be good for you to go out.”

“Just two months ago you were complaining about how much I go out, and now you complain that I don’t go out enough?” You arch your brows, fully aware of how whiny you sound.

“Well, not my fault you don’t know how to balance your social life.” She focuses back on herself, opening a product you can’t make out what it is and tapping it against her cheekbones. “It’s either going out every single day to the point of no sleep or becoming a hermit inside your house.”

You pout. “I’m working, you know tha-”

“It’s cause she only goes out with her LA friends now, Meme.” Claire blurts out as she appears from inside the closet, holding one of Aya’s transparent coats. You keep a straight face as you turn to look at her, trying not to cringe with her nickname for Aya. She seems oblivious of your annoyance, though, making her way to lean on the archway leading to where Aya’s finishing getting ready. “Now it’s all about Dora and - what’s his name?”

Aya interrupts before you have the chance to bite back, “It’s not even that, C, think she’s found something more interesting keeping her in London.” 

The smirk she shoots you from over her shoulder makes you avert your eyes, a blush creeping up your neck, warming all the way to the tip of your ears. The knowing look on her face could almost make you entirely flustered, as if she knows exactly the reason you’ve been so comfortable staying in London by yourself — especially now that the sole thought of being alone sends a tight grip to your chest. But you know there’s no reason for you to be nervous about it. You haven’t told a single person about your reconnection with Harry yet, somehow feeling an odd sort of protectiveness over it. And you’re not sure why this new flame of happiness still feels so fragile to you, so delicate, that a simple, outspoken word to the wrong person could take it away from you. 

And oh, how scared you are of it being taken away as quickly as it came to you.

So you’ve kept it within your grasp for as long as you can. Away from prying eyes and greedy hands. It’s the one thing that you have now that feels just yours, the one part of you that no one else knows about. That’s the sole reason you even asked him to keep it a secret in the first place.

Still, that doesn’t mean that people around haven’t noticed the sudden change in you — as small as you thought it was, it surely didn’t go unnoticed by those that know you so well. Sonia was the first to mention it. When you couldn’t keep yourself from checking your phone every five minutes during a studio session, she had teased you about it. You brushed it off, and she made no more comments about it, thankfully. But you didn’t miss the looks she gave you every time you excused yourself to make a phone call.

With Aya, though, you know it won’t be as easy to get her to disregard your behavior. You hoped she hadn’t caught on when earlier in the afternoon she nudged you about being all smiley while reading a text (Harry had just sent you a picture of Duchess wearing a knitted vest he’d made for her and you had it open when Aya peeked from over your shoulder to see what you were looking at, so you just said it was a message from your sister before quickly locking the screen). 

However, after her comment, you’re sure she’s clearly aware that something’s up. And, knowing Aya, you’re aware she won’t drop this subject until you tell her exactly what it is that’s keeping you in London. Before she has the chance to poke further, you’re saved by none other than Claire, who did not pick up on Aya’s grin shot towards you. Barely registering the meaning behind her words at all, actually, as she makes her way to sit at the foot of the bed. “Well, whatever it is, I think I might have something to keep you here with us.”

Thankfully, Aya drops the subject, only widening her eyes slightly at you, almost in a warning at what’s coming. “Here it comes.”

You frown, glancing from your friend that stands opposite you to the girl that’s scooping closer to where your legs rest. “What do you mean?”

“I know you’re still having a hard time after Noah.” The words spill from her lips and you almost choke on your own saliva at her bluntness. There was a sort of silent agreement between you and Aya about not mentioning your ex by name. So hearing it being outspoken without expecting it surely comes in a bit of a shock. But Claire still seems oblivious of it, only reaching to grip right under your knee in what’s supposed to be a reassuring gesture, you guess. “But it’s been so long now! Maybe you need a little push with, like, getting over him.”

“A push.” It’s hard to keep the affronting expression that tugs down your lips.

“Someone.” A squeeze to your knee. You want to push it off. “There’s this guy-”

That’s it. You close your eyes with a deep breath. “Claire-”

“Before you say no, listen to me!” She holds out her hands, in a habit of gesturing her words when she explains herself. “There’s this guy, okay? He works with my brother at NYT and I met him a couple of times, and- Just listen! The whole time we were talking, I could only think of you! I was like ‘oh my god, she’s gonna love him’ cause he’s totally your type!”

You scoff, glancing over at Aya who’s clearly trying to keep herself occupied. “Is this why you’re dragging me out tonight?”

Her deer-in-the-headlights eyes meet yours in the reflection. “Hey, I have nothing to do with Mr. Perfect here. As I said, I just think it’d be good for you to go out.”

“Just meet him, okay? You don’t have to go out on a date or anything just-” Claire brings your attention back to herself. “Just talk for a bit, see if you click. I think it’ll be good.” Her voice gets softer, shoulder dropping. “I’m just trying to help.”

There’s not an ounce of you that wants to engage in any sort of small-talk filled conversation, having close to no patience in getting to know someone new at this moment of your life. The prospect of having to sit and pretend whatever this man is going to tell you about himself interests you for god knows how long is enough to make you want to swim all the way back to England in your stilettos. But it’s clear that Claire’s intentions with this are far from malicious in any way, and you can’t help but feel bad for lashing out at her. So you just sigh, letting the words fall from your lips before you think about it enough to regret them,  “Okay.”

Her face lights up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll chat with him.”

She squeals. “You’ll love him! I’m telling you-”

“Claire,” You interrupt before she can get ahead of herself. “You sound like you’re envisioning a wedding already. I agreed to chat. That's it.”

“Chat. Okay, it’s a start.” She nods, a smile too big for her face before squealing again, throwing a look over her shoulder. “Right, Meme? Don’t you think it’ll be good for her?”

“Please, I’m just the audience in this conversation.” She calls back, turning to face you after a second to motion to the coat sitting on Claire’s lap. “Is this the coat you chose?”

Claire jumps from her spot in the bed at the mention of it. “Yes! What do you think? Wait- I’ll try it on, see if you can still notice the pink details on my dress.”

The girl bolts towards the walk-in closet where there are larger mirrors she can see herself better on and, just as she turns her back, Aya shoots you a wink before following her. 

You relax back into the arrangement of pillows, another sigh leaving your lips as it comes to you what you’ve just agreed on. Sometimes you wish you weren’t so easily persuaded by a pair of puppy eyes, knowing the consequences of it almost always have to do with you doing something you’re not too comfortable with. Your eyes shut close and you have to refrain from rubbing your face as not to ruin the makeup Aya applied so carefully. The night has barely started and you already feel exhausted mentally. Not wanting to dwell on it further, you make a mental note to yourself: learn how to say no.

Turning your face, you pick up the phone that was left forgotten next to you during the chat with Claire. To your surprise, the screen lights up showing a text from Harry received just about five minutes ago. You try not to sit up too suddenly, as not to call attention to yourself, while you swipe your thumb over the screen to open the message. 

A smile tugs on your lips before you can even read what it says, simply reacting to the picture attached to it. The first thing you notice is his hair, poking out of his head in a messy mesh resembling somewhat of a mane. You bite back a giggle at the thought. His face is lit up, mouth parted in an open smile as he gives a thumb up to the camera. You take a moment too long looking at his face until you realize what the picture is meant to show. You. Next to him, on the screen of his telly, grinning with the blue sunglasses you wore to the music video shoot.

The text under it is short, but it causes the most beautiful flowers to bloom under your chest.

H: Found this cutie while browsing todayy

H: Looks familiar? ;)

//

“That’s definitely too much.”

You glanced back at Harry as your eyebrows shot towards your hairline, challenging. His own face mimicked your expression, peeking down at the cup of flour in your hands before meeting your eyes again. With his locks being pulled up with your hair tie, it’s hard to take him seriously after you’d teased him about resembling a sprout when he first walked into the kitchen, ignoring his protests to playfully sweep the tiny bouquet of curls with your finger.

“How many times do I have to tell you, this is the exact amount?” You replied, trying to keep a straight face.

“How do you know? You’re not even measuring it!”

“It’s a muffin, Harry, how difficult can it be?” You rolled your eyes in feign annoyance, turning the cup into the mixing bowl before he could protest it. “I can do it by eye just fine.”

“This is chaotic.” He scrunched his nose, shaking his head in disbelief at the cloud of flour that floated through the air at how abruptly you threw it. “Making a bloody mess, you are.”

“Yeah, yeah, now tell me what’s next.”

He exhaled a chuckle, secretly enjoying your antics, before turning to check the open recipe book that sat on the counter. His finger followed the words written in instructions, and you observed with amusement the crease forming on his face as he attempted to decipher your nan’s handwriting. It took him a second before he clicked his tongue, “We should’ve mixed the wet ingredients first.”

“Does it make a difference?” You bit back a smile, knowing your words would get a reaction out of him.

And, as you predicted, Harry’s face turned into an appalled expression. “Does it make a difference?” He repeated your question, astounded. “Of course it makes a difference!”

You giggled, reaching for the milk carton. “I’m sure the muffins will be fine if I put in the milk after the flour, they won’t even notice.”

“Christ,” He shook his head again, a few curls falling loose against his forehead with the motion. “Baking with you is going to make me go gray by the time I reach my twenties.”

This time you let out a full laugh, mouth falling open in fake offense. “You’re so dramatic!”

Harry smiled, then, both dimples poking deeply into his cheeks as he reached to take the carton from your hands. You two finished mixing the batter, taking a bit too long to get it inside the oven as you enjoyed pestering Harry in the process a bit too much. Every so often someone walked into the kitchen to pick up some drinks or leave dirty dishes by the sink, checking in on the both of you with that smile adults always give you when you’re with Harry (usually followed by some corny joke about young love that made you roll your eyes).

It was the day of one of the barbecue parties your parents always threw at the beginning of summer break. They would invite their closest circle of friends to spend the day in your back garden, usually followed by a ‘luau’ (as your dad called it, even though it was definitely not a luau) once your parents got tipsy enough to bring out the guitars and light up a fire. 

When everyone was a tad lethargic from lunch, relaxing back into their chairs as the sun felt hotter as it shone proudly on the cloudless sky, you had the idea of baking your nan’s recipe of blueberry muffins.

Usually, the tradition of baking a dessert to be freshly served in the afternoon was left to your mum and sister -- who was almost passing the age in which she wanted to have a hand in everything to call attention to herself. But you were faster this time, volunteering to do the task, and dragging Harry with you, as you were eager to have some time alone with him without having someone interrupting to ask him yet another football question that left you bored out of your mind.

So, you take advantage of having the kitchen to yourselves, bumping your hips against his as you two swept the counter quietly, cleaning the mess you’d made earlier. Your aunt had just left the kitchen after making one of those comments regarding marriage that are meant solely to embarrass both of you, and a faint blush was still visible on his cheeks. It made you want nothing more than to reach up and press your lips to them, only to feel the spot of his dimple deepening with a smile.

The air was smelling sweeter when you threw the dirty cloth inside the sink, leaning back into the island as you watched Harry crouch to peek inside the oven. You couldn’t help the grin as you noticed the muffins spilling out of their cases as expected. 

“Told you it would work out.”

“I don’t know how you do it.” He stood, resting a hand on the counter next to you, leaning into it. “Do absolutely everything wrong but still manage to make it work.”

“Hey!” You giggled, pushing him softly with your hand as you dragged out the word. “I did absolutely everything right just… In my own way.”

“Yeah?” His finger twirled on the hook of your jeans, pulling at it as he moved to stand in front of you, keeping a hand resting on the counter next to your waist. “The world bends its rules for you, it seems.” Pressing a peck at the corner of your mouth, he mumbled, lips close enough that you could feel every word caressing your skin, “Don’t blame it, though.”

You chuckled. “Oh? Do you bend your rules for me too?”

“Of course,” His nose tickled the apple of your cheek, causing you to shrug your shoulder slightly. You felt his warm breath as he exhaled a laugh, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “Would never let anyone else butcher a batch of muffins in my presence like you just did.”

“Harry!” You cried out, shoving him off playfully. “I’m never baking for you ever again, you can starve during lunch from now on, see if I care.”

He laughed again, leaning down to bite the tip of your nose before you quickly tried to push him away. “Stop, baby, you know I’m just joking.”

“Too late now, you already lost your dessert privilege.”

“Ouch.” Harry pouted, attempting to pull his puppy eyes to get you to budge, but you simply raised your brows at him, chewing your inner cheek to prevent a smile from growing on your face. He started to lean down to press his lips on yours but he could barely move before the doors leading outside slid open again, startling both of you, causing Harry to quickly step back.

Your sister’s face peeked up curiously from her spot at the door frame, a juvenile smile teasing at her lips at the scene she’d just interrupted.

“What do you want, Ly?”

Lyla shot you a condescending look from your harsh tone, “I’m not here for you, dumb face.” She took out her tongue, and you rolled your eyes — sometimes she’s too much of a thirteen-year-old. “Auntie Sue said you were done and Harry promised to help me with a project.”

“A project?” You raised your brows, glancing at the boy next to you who was already adorning a guilty smile on his face.

“I did promise that.”

“It’s a secret project!” Lyla’s voice raised to a higher pitch.

“Okay, then.” You sighed, looking between the two of them before setting your eyes on Harry again. The pout is clear in your voice as you speak up,

“Seems like your presence is being required.” You nod towards Harry’s vibrating phone that sits on top of the table behind the two of you.

“Oops, sorry.” He shoots you a guilty smile before reaching over his shoulder for the device.

You avert your eyes as he glances down at the screen, focusing on the sunrays that peek from between the leaves of your green fence, painting the tips of the grass gold. It’s been just over a month since your first coffee date (you only call it that for lack of a better word) and, with summer just around the corner, the days are beginning to stretch longer. The sun is still bright and proud as the afternoon meets the evening. There’s a warmth that’s not yet too insufferable, but more like welcomed after months of endless drizzle and sharp winds. 

It’s perfectly fitting for a nice lazy day like this one. 

This is the first time you got to properly have him around for the day. Despite Harry having wrapped his term just about a week ago and your agenda keeping you in London for the next few months, both your schedules only seem to have gotten tighter. You spend most of your time during the week inside the recording studio — the sessions dragging into the evening hours more often than not, as you find yourself too caught up with them. Meanwhile, Harry’s back to working his regular working hours now that Act One has officially started working on the productions for the summer season.

Surprisingly, though, you fell into a routine of sorts quite easily. You still chat every day, not limiting your communication to texting alone (though you still love receiving Harry’s random pictures throughout the day), but also making phone calls most days once both of you have finally settled in bed after long working hours. And it’s not like you’re not able to see each other with these scheduling complications, it’s only that those hangouts are limited to either weekends or early evenings. 

On the two-week mark, after you met again, you could finally take him to the proper coffee hangout that you’d promised. The cafe in question is one you’ve been going to for over a year now. A friend recommended it, and you instantly loved it for how hidden it is, and most frequented by an older audience — which means you’re able to sneak in and out with no hassle. You took Harry there on a Sunday morning, and it surprised you to find that the place is actually much closer to his flat than your house. So, after cups of iced coffee and shared muffins, you two walked all the way to his place, enjoying the laziness that allows people to sleep in as the week reaches an end.

That was one of your favorite days with him. It had been a long while since you allowed yourself to simply relax during a walk; forgetting how it feels to be aware of every corner you turn. That’s the easy thing about being with Harry, you’ve found the simple concept of relaxing. He allows you to let your guard down, to enjoy those things you’ve once taken for granted. The ones that bring a sense of normalcy that can easily be overlooked by those who don’t get to experience the other side of it. It’s something you’re sure Harry doesn’t even realize he’s brought back to your life, but you still show your silent gratitude in any way you can.

It’s what made you invite him to your house for lunch in the first place. It didn’t go unnoticed to you how most times you end up back in his flat and, as much as he repeats how he enjoys your presence there, it doesn’t stop you from feeling the slightest bit self-conscious about it. 

“Shit.” Harry mutters under his breath, his fingers tapping swiftly on the screen, a frown deepening on his face.

Raising your brows, you wait a second before speaking up, afraid of interrupting whatever it is that has him alarmed, “Everything alright?”

“Julia’s making dinner tonight.” He replies, eyes scanning the device in his hands before sighing. “Completely forgot.”

“Oh. Is it, like-” You pause, glancing down at your phone that’s left forgotten in your lap, pressing the home button to check the time. The screen lights up, letting you know it’s just around six, meaning Harry’s been over for just about seven hours now. “Shit, I’m so sorry, didn’t mean to keep you-”

“Don’t apologize.” He locks his phone, shooting a reassuring smile your way. “My fault, really. Just completely slipped off my mind.”

You nod, watching him gnawn at his bottom lip, brows meeting in a frown as he gets deep in thought. Parting your lips. You don’t let any word out at first, afraid that if you do, he’ll remember it's time for him to go back. There’s a selfish voice in your head that wants to ask him to stay a bit longer, to not part ways yet, to just call off on this dinner. But you know better than to say any of it out loud, opting to suck in your lips instead, as if the words could just slip out without your consent.

Harry sighs, and you can’t help but let your shoulders fall, knowing what’s coming. “I should get going.” He picks up his empty glass, pocketing his phone as he stands with a huff. “Julia’s not very happy that I’m late.” He chuckles. “Again.”

Laughing, you get up from your chair as well, patting the back of your thighs as you feel your skin a bit sore from sitting for so long. Before you can answer him, however, your attention snaps towards the opened door leading to your kitchen, as a small figure comes rushing towards you. You feel the soft fur against your legs before you can properly register the pup circling you. Once you realize what’s going on, as the familiar black spaniel greets you, you freeze in your spot, glancing from the dog that now jumps excitedly on Harry’s legs to the door where he came from.

“You didn’t tell me you had a pup.” Harry smiles, his voice getting a higher pitch as he kneels to pet behind his ears. “Hey buddy, where did you come from?”

“I don’t.” You reply, walking towards the house as you search for the owner who’s likely already found her spot in the kitchen.

“Huh?” You hear from behind you as you stride towards the house. 

Surely, as predicted, you spot her hiding halfway inside your fridge, back turned to you. You notice how Bella’s blonde locks are way shorter since last time you saw her — now stopping just above her shoulders. As surprised as you are, you don’t comment on it, simply staring at your intruder of a friend as you try to figure the situation in hand. 

This isn't exactly how you’d planned to introduce Harry to your friend group. Well, shit.

Bella doesn’t pay any mind to you at first, but certainly senses your presence as she speaks out from over her shoulder. “Hey, did you not buy any more greek yo- Oh.” She stops as she turns, just in time when Harry walks in with the dog cradled in his arms. Her eyes jump between the two of you as she pushes the fridge’s door to a close. “Hi.”

“Hello.” You shoot her a look.

Harry puts the pet down, “Hi.”

“Uhm,” You stand awkwardly, playing with the rings hugging your fingers. Bella raises her brows in a silent question and you sigh. It’s not like you can do anything now. “Harry, this is my friend, Bella. Bella, this is Harry.” You motion your arms between them as you introduce one another.

Harry clears his throat. And you can only suppose how confused he must be, considering you mentioned nothing about a friend visiting today. But it’s not like you were aware of it, either. Bellas and you are at that point in your friendship in which you don’t find the need to announce your visits anymore, simply making yourselves at home every time both of you are in town.

He glances at you for a second, before nodding at your friend. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” She grins politely. There’s a beat of quietness that no one really knows what to say next, and you can feel a silent pressure for you to break it. When you don’t, Bella points vaguely to a spot behind her, “Uh, I can come back tomorrow…”

Your lips part as you try to stop her, but before you can do so, Harry beats you to it.“You don’t have to, really. I was just leaving, actually.” He scratches his nose. “I don’t mean to intrude on anything you two have planned…” 

“Oh, no, that’s not it!” Bella rushes.

“We have nothing planned.” You assure him, glancing between your friends. “Bella just comes to visit whenever she’s in London.”

“Yeah, I was the one interrupting.” She backs you up, clicking her tongue. “Should’ve called first.”

"That's okay.” You tell her.

“Well, I hope you two enjoy the rest of your day, then.” Harry nods, eyes meeting yours as he mutters, “I really need to get going.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” You say, “I’ll take you to the door.”

With one last wave to Bella, he follows you as you guide the way towards the front door. You open it for Harry, allowing him to step out first before you let it close behind you — as to avoid the dog from running out. Leaning back against it, you shoot him a small smile.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know she was coming.” You point back. “She has the keys so…”

“That’s fine.” He reassures, hands hiding inside the pocket of his jeans. There’s a second of silence, as you two just enjoy each other’s presence for a little before having to bid your goodbyes. You can’t help but let your eyes fall to his shirt once again — although being a simple white tee, the words I spread like strawberries embroidered to it have been haunting you all afternoon. Once your eyes move up again, you don’t find his, as he glances down at his shoes, a cute reddish tone painting the apple of his cheeks. When he speaks up, he peaks up at you from under his lashes, “I had a lovely time, as usual.”

“Me too.” You bite down a smile, tilting your head. “As usual.”

He nods, looking over his shoulder before back at you. Chewing down the side of his lip, he asks, “I’ll see you?”

You try to think of a date to give him, knowing as summer progresses your schedule will only get tighter with the studio sessions. “Uhm, probably sometime at the end of the week, maybe? I’m a bit busy, but I’ll let you know.”

“Alright.” He nods, staring for a second before stepping forward to embrace you into a hug. “Take care, love.” His words come out a bit muffled as he squishes his face on the crook of your neck.

You giggle as the strands of his hair tickle the side of your face. “You too, H.” 

Pulling away, he steps backward, pointing at you in a playful warning. “Still owe me a lemon tart.”

“Gotcha.”

Taking a deep breath, you watch for a bit longer as he walks away, waving a last goodbye before disappearing back inside your house. You give yourself a moment to prepare for the wave of questions waiting for you as soon as you step back into the kitchen. 

You find Bella twirling on a stool propped next to the island, spoon in her mouth and an open package of greek yogurt sitting on the counter. As soon as you walk in, she stops, pulling the spoon out as her brows shoot towards her hairline. She doesn’t wait a second before questioning, “So…” A smirk grows on her face and she points vaguely with her spoon to a spot behind you. “Harry?”

You groan, taking a seat next to her. “You were not supposed to walk in on that.”

“Well, I’m sorry! How was I supposed to know?”

“I don’t know, maybe try calling?”

“I never call before coming here.” She challenges, and it’s true. Picking a spoonful of yogurt and shoving into her mouth, she watches you for a second. You simply glance back, aware of her expectant stare attempting to pry you to speak up first. You watch her swallow, lips quirking as you refuse to give what she wants. She raises her brows again, this time voicing her question, “Is he…?”

You shake your head at her implication. “No, he’s… A friend.”

“That was a pause.”

“Well, he was my ex before he was my friend.”

“An ex? Is he-” Bella frowns for a bit and you can almost see the wheels inside her head turning. “Holy shit! Is he The Harry?”

Now it’s your turn to form a crease between your brows, confused. You don’t recall ever mentioning Harry to her. “Don’t know what you mean by The Harry, but, yes, he was my first boyfriend.”

“You’ve told me about him before.”

“Have I?” You blink at her. “When?”

She thinks for a second before pointing the spoon in her hand at you.“Yes! It was in one of your Halloween parties- actually, right after it.” She looks over at you, only to find a confused expression still settled on your face. “The one we had a sleepover, and I broke your lamp.”

“That was two years ago, yeah, I remember.” As much as your Halloween parties have a tendency of meshing together in your memory (as they’re mostly the same apart from one or two remarkable occurrences), this one in particular you remember quite well as it was the first time Bella slept over at your house. In the middle of the night, she knocked on your room to ask you if she could sleep with you. Her words were coming mumbled because of the alcohol still affecting her bloodstream. The two of you barely slept a tick that night, as you spent hours whispering stories to each other and, at one point, she got so excited as she was telling you about some sort of vacation she had taken (you don’t remember it that well) that she elbowed your lamp causing it to shatter as it fell. You try to rack your brain to find any recollection of mentioning Harry that day, but all that comes to you is the two of you falling into a fit of giggles when you told her about a past hookup of yours. This only causes your frown to deepen. “The party, I mean. I don’t remember mentioning Harry.”

“You were drunk.” She shoves her spoon inside the yogurt as she speaks. “Was sitting at one of the patio chairs, scrolling down on your Instagram page and you saw a picture of him, think you said it was his sister’s profile? I don’t know. But you were whiny for like an hour because of it.”

“What?” So it was at the party? You have a flash of panic, wondering who else was there to hear you whine over your ex boyfriend. “I have absolutely no recollection of this.”

“It was cute, really.” She tries to comfort you, still focusing on her pot of dairy. “You didn’t say much- you weren’t making a lot of sense, really, but I remember you saying he was the first person you were in love with. Didn’t know he was your first boyfriend.”

You fall back into your seat. “Yeah… That’s him.”

“How long were you together?” Bella glances back at you, brows peaking in curiosity. 

“Almost four years.”

“What?” Her eyes bulge. “How come you never told me that?”

“Don’t know, was a bit of a sensitive topic, I guess.” You know it was. The only reason why you refrained from mentioning him to anyone for a long time was because of the tightness in your chest that followed the sound of his name. “But yeah, we started dating right after his fourteenth birthday.” The memory comes to you as a smile. “His birthday’s in February and he asked me on Valentine’s day, was really cute. I don’t think anyone thought it would last that long at the time.”

“That’s super sweet.” She whines, her shoulders falling as she huffs. “Ugh, I hate love.”

You chuckle. “Same.” 

“So you broke up when you were, what, eighteen?”

“Yup.” 

“Was it because of distance and stuff?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” You think back to the time you two started drifting apart, a thought you haven’t revisited in a long time. “We were already very distant even when we were together.” Shrugging, you try to push back the heaviness in your chest. “Guess we were just meant to go different ways.”

"That's poetic.” She nods. You assume she’s noticed the way your voice has taken a lower tone, as her own grows a pitch, shoving you as she tries to cheer you up. “But now you’re together again!”

Breathing out a laugh, you roll your eyes slightly. “We’re friends.”

“Right.” She doesn’t sound convinced. “But, you know, you went each your own way and somehow crossed paths again. Do you know what that’s called?”

You close your eyes, already familiar with your friend’s antics. “Bella…”

“Fate.”

“Oh my god.” You shake your head at her, hoping she doesn’t notice the blush that creeps up your neck.

“I’m just saying, if I were you, I wouldn’t let this opportunity escape.” She bites down her empty spoon to hide the smirk that grows on her lips. The way her brows wiggle before she says anything allows you to prepare for what's to come. “I mean, with all due respect, he is very fine.”

“I knew it was coming.” You pucker your lips to avert from smiling, trying to seem casual before confessing, “But yes, he looks really good.”

“The long hair? The tattoos? Girl!” Her eyes widen. “If he wasn’t your ex, I would’ve been saying some really inappropriate stuff right now.”

You groan, hiding your face behind your hands. “Please, don’t.”

“I said ‘would’!” She emphasizes the word as she tries to pull your hands away from covering your eyes. “I’m only thinking about it, relax.”

Rolling your eyes again, you nod towards her half-empty pot. “Eat your yogurt.”

//

The air inside the flat somehow is warmer than the outdoors. The large windows opposite the kitchen are wide open to have some sort of breeze flowing around to relieve the heat coming from the stove. A generic scent of fried dough dances around the small space with it. It’s one that Harry recognizes from past times that Julia’s made the dish, and it makes his mouth water as soon as he steps inside.

Julia’s at her spot in the kitchen taking care of the food, her back turned to him as she bumps her hips along with the beat of a song he doesn’t recognize. Next to her, Harry recognizes Mitch’s back reaching for the small pile of plates inside the cabinet with Blake standing right behind (he assumes because she’d asked for his help with the task, considering she usually has a hard time reaching the last shelves). 

Their voices mesh together as they seem too lost in their conversation to notice Harry’s arrival. Right as the door clicks closed, however, Blake takes the plates from Mitch’s hands, turning to catch Harry right as he toes-off his shoes.

“Look who’s decided to show up!” She speaks up, calling the attention of both friends that still stood oblivious of the boy that now sports a guilty smile. Blake raises her brows at him, setting the plates on top of the island counter. “For what do we owe this honor?”

“Finally!” Julia barges before Harry can even start with the apology he went over in his head during the entire tube ride. “I was completely outnumbered in this discussion. Tell them that our plates are nice!”

He stops right by the edge of the kitchen tiles, furrowing his brows at his friends’ request. “What?”

Harry tries to search for an explanation from Mitch, who simply leans back onto the counter with his arms crossed, and an amused smirk painting his lips as he nods towards Julia.

The girl has turned back to the stove, a colander spoon in her hand moving the pastries around inside the pan filled with oil. She huffs before she explains, eyes trained on the stove, “They’re being incredibly rude, calling our plates tacky!”

Without even looking at the plates in question, Harry chuckles. “Oh, is it the floral ones?”

He confirms his assumptions when glancing at the dishes set on top of the island counter. The collection was sent by her parents around the new years after her visit for the holidays — she’d told them about how they cracked most their dishes at the edges and they sent in a full set as a replacement. And, as much as both of them found the action heartwarming ly thoughtful, they both had a good laugh upon opening the box when it first came in. 

Because they were, after all, a bit tacky. 

Each has its edges painted with a different color, with matching roses circling around it. To make matters worse, the center of them have each a different phrase. Harry couldn’t make sense to them at first, as they’re written in Portuguese, but from what Julia’s translated it doesn’t go far from those catchphrases you can find at the Live, Laugh, Love side of Pinterest.

That’s something Julia very openly makes fun of her parents about; what she says is their lack of taste for just about everything. And Harry was very aware of the fact, not only by the way she teases them to no end about it but also by her choices of presents to send back home (for instance, that god awful umbrella -- may it rest in pieces). With their time together as flatmates, it’s almost become somewhat of an inside joke between the two of them. 

But, as much as both of them have taken the piss about it before, they still have a fondness heavily attached to them. So it’s understandable Julia’s annoyance at their friends’ tease, especially when both bark into laughs at Harry’s question.

“You’re not helping!” Julia throws him a look from over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to confirm!” Harry raises his hands in surrender as he watches the girl roll her eyes before focusing back on the pan in front of her. He pulls one stool next to the one Blake’s taken for herself, sitting on it before glancing down at the dish in front of him. He spins it slightly with the tip of his finger, watching the yellow roses move with it. “But Jul’s right, stop attacking our plates.”

“I wasn’t attacking them, if I have any right to a replica.” Mitch moves from his spot to take the stool in front of Harry. “If I recall correctly, I even said they were very charming.”

“Your sarcasm doesn’t impress me, Rowland,” Julia replies from her spot, not looking back. “Just say they're ugly already! Since you guys hate them so much!”

Blake shoots Harry a knowing look, a smile poking at her lips from being too used to her girlfriend’s dramatics. She pushes her stool back, standing before she walks over towards the grumpy girl who’s now focusing on taking out the pastries and laying them on a trail that’s covered with napkins. Embracing her from behind, she presses a kiss between Julia’s shoulder blades before whispering something just for her to hear.

Harry watches them for a second, not helping the part of him that wishes he could have someone like they do. It verges a tragedy, he thinks, to be a hopeless romantic and not be in love.

"Food is ready!" Julia speaks up, her voice this time taking a higher pitch. Harry doesn’t miss the look the couple exchanges before finding their seats across from each other.

Julia sets the trail in the center. The pastries take a half-circle shape and are organized neatly in two rolls, their golden crust looking very appealing, making Harry realize how hungry he actually is.

“So, explain to me,” Mitch begins, nodding towards the dish. “What are those guys?”

“These, my dear, are called pastel- you know, like the color shade,” Julia explains, picking up one of them. “They’re basically, like, a pastry. You can stuff them with anything you want, really. I made the most common ones which are cheese- the ones on this roll- and meat.” She points to the rolls showing where each one line. “We usually have them as, like, a snack, but I was really missing them so I made it for dinner. And we also eat it with sugarcane juice, but y’all don’t have it here,” She shakes her head. “Tasteless.”

“Sugarcane juice?” Mitch raises his brows.

Julia goes into one of her rants that Harry’s heard about a hundred times before by now — the ones that come up every time she talks about her country, which he finds rather cute how passionate she gets when talking about her culture. His head shuts off for a bit, though, already knowing the information by heart, as he focuses on his groaning stomach. 

For a moment, they just eat while having more of a casual chat. Julia rambles for a good portion of it about her life back home, and, soon enough, they all share their own experiences that make them miss their hometowns. It makes for a nice bonding experience, four people from different spots in the world that found themselves in London at the same time. All sharing a meal as they recall the parts of them they left behind when they choose to leave. For a moment, Harry forgets all about the apology he’d rehearsed on the way back from your house. 

It doesn’t even slip into his mind how he escaped any sort of immediate interrogation about his whereabouts. He’s even naïve enough to think that maybe Julia’s even forgotten about it as well, thanks to the plates’ discussion. 

Harry soon finds himself to be wrong, though. And the worst of it all, it catches him completely off guard.

The group has just quietened down from a story Mitch’s told from back in the days he used to work in a pizza place. Blake’s just offered to clean up the dishes, standing from her stool as she collects the plates. Harry hands her his, glancing at her as he mutters a quick ‘thank you’. He doesn’t notice the way Julia stares at him, eyes narrowed and lips puckering, as she leans into the counter. It only calls his attention once she speaks up, her words coming out slow but almost calculated, as if she’s been thinking about voicing them for a while, “So, H, are you gonna tell us what’s up?”

He doesn’t realize what she’s referring to at first, only furrowing his brows in his confusion. “Huh?”

“Don’t ‘huh’ me, Styles, you’re hiding something.” She points at him and that’s when he realizes, breath hitching on his throat. “And I think that something’s actually a someone, so spill.”

He hears Blake chuckling from her spot at the sink. “Guess we’re going straight to the point, then.”

Harry tries to even his breath, holding back the urge to bite down at his bottom lip as not to show he’s nervous. “What makes you think that?”

Julia grins as if she’s been waiting for him to ask that. “Well, should we go over the list? You suddenly have a life outside, barely stay at home, you’re almost always late to hang out— and that’s coming from me, a Brazilian- oh! You’ve also been baking?” She puts out a finger at each topic on the list, emphasizing the last word as if it’s the most absurd concept to grasp. “And I caught you taking a selfie the other night, which would be odd on itself if I wasn’t sure that you sent it to someone right after.”

Harry nods slowly. “Okay. You kept a list.”

“So?”

“I-” He feels himself panicking, not knowing how to explain himself. On one hand, he hates lying, especially to people he loves. He also knows how upset Julia gets when people lie to her, considering honesty is one attribute she values the most in a person. So the prospect of not only going against one of his own principles but also letting down one of his closest friends, almost makes him sick. But he gave you his word that he would not tell anyone until you were ready to do so. And he wants to keep his word and respect your wishes, knowing that if he doesn’t, it could mean losing everything he’s gotten back these past months. It could mean losing you. So for a moment, he stays there, lips parted but not saying anything. There’s gotta be some sort of middle ground.  “There’s… Someone, and-”

A loud thud comes as Blake drops one plate inside the sink, turning around with wide eyes and soapy hands. “What?”

“I knew it!” Julia slaps her hand on the counter as she exclaims, her mouth dropping in the shape of an ‘O’. “I knew it! How do you get a girlfriend without mentioning it to me? I thought we were friends?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” Harry blurts out.

“How could you keep this from us?” Blake comes to stand behind her girlfriend, her face still wide in shock before she turns to Mitch. “Did you know about this?”

“I did not have any involvement in this, no.”

Julia continues her inquiry, “Who is it?”

“Jul-”

She interrupts Harry before he can properly form a word, “Is it that girl from work? The one that had a crush on you? What’s her name again-”

“Julia, please.”

“Alice!” She snaps her finger, her grin widening as she looks at him as if she just solved an enigma. “It's her, isn’t it? Did you finally make a move? Oh my god.”

“I- It’s-” Harry’s fully panicking now, eyes moving quickly between his friends as they stare at him, waiting for a confirmation. Is this the middle ground he wanted? No, he thinks to himself. This will only make things worse. He should just say he wants to keep it private for now. It would annoy them, sure, but they’d have to understand, right? It’s the rational thing to do. But Harry’s not working with rationality at the moment, and his mouth works before his brain does, “Y-yeah, it’s her.”

Blake gasps. “Harry!”

“I can’t believe you!” 

He needs to fix this. “We’re not dating.” 

“Yet.” She points before squealing, reaching a hand over her shoulder to hold Blake’s wet ones while placing her other over her heart. “Look at you! They grow so fast…”

“Please, don’t.”

“Babe, let him breathe for a bit.” Blake breaks her hand from her girlfriend’s grasp, reaching for a napkin and using it to dry her hands. She smiles at him, “I would like to see a picture of her, though.”

Before he has the chance to answer, Julia’s already talking, “You should’ve invited her to come today! There’s enough food-”

“No, it’s… Uh, it’s not like that.” Harry tries to come up with something to explain himself as not to dig a deeper hole than he already has put himself in.

Blake frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Just-” He pauses, glancing between his friends. They all show different stages of confusion. “We’re taking things slow.”

Julia rolls her eyes, “Harry, you’re already the slowest person I know.” She states as a matter-of-fact, shaking her head at him. “With your pace, we’re getting this relationship announcement in five years.”

He huffs, the insistence annoying him a bit. Maybe it’s because he knows the more they keep this subject, the deeper the hole he can get himself in. So he simply avoids feeding more into it, choosing to ask her instead,  “Why are you so obsessed with the idea of me in a relationship?” His eyes meet Blake’s in a silent plea for an intervention.

“Because I want to have cute double dates!” Julia whines.

Mitch deadpans, “What’s this, then?”

“Okay! We have desert!” Blake seems to find her cue to barge in, clapping her hands together before continuing, “And it’s made of chocolate!”

Harry smiles at her, shooting her a look of gratitude. “Chocolate sounds perfect.”

“Sounds marvelous,” Mitch adds.

Julia, however, is not dumb. She narrows her eyes slightly. “You guys are changing the subject.”

Her girlfriend barely bats an eye at her statement, though, only squeezing her shoulder gently, “Babe, why don’t you tell Mitch about brigadeiro? I’m sure he’ll love to hear it.”

The girl sighs, shooting Harry another knowing look before giving up on the subject for the time being. He only gives her a small smile, watching as she begins to tell Mitch all about desert. 

Well, he really dug himself a hole with this one.

//

Harry loves Sundays.

This is funny enough of a statement, considering how he used to despise it when he was younger. Back when he knew it meant that he’d have to be up early the next day to walk the cracked sidewalk leading to his school, fighting to keep his eyelids halfway open. The entire day would feel like a countdown (just eight more hours until the weekend’s over!). The only thing that made the day the slightest bit enjoyable was that he used to visit his nan every Sunday right after breakfast. He still remembers how he and his cousins would sit in front of the telly with their toys scattered around them, the entire house adorned with the scent of vanilla.

He’s not sure exactly when the switch of opinion for the day happened, but he knows that you’re one of the main reasons for it. Sunday’s were your days. They were the only days in which you were sure to be free from babysitting duties with your sister, hence why there was a silent agreement that settled between both of you to spend it together. So you reserved Sundays for the two of you. And Harry’s sure some of his fondest memories with you happened on a Sunday.

So it was hard not to love the day when it brought you to him every time.

Although years have passed, his attachment to the day hasn’t faded. Especially now, when you seem to fit back into his Sundays just as perfectly as you used to. 

The cafe smells just like his nan’s house used to when he first walks in - the only major difference being the scent of coffee that meshes with the vanilla in the air. It’s the third time he comes with you here and, just like the previous ones, there’s a surprisingly low movement for it being mid-morning. Most of the customers that frequent it, as you’d informed him the first time you took him there, are elders. There’s a couple right at the door enjoying the cloudless day at the chess table that’s carefully prompted just outside the cafe that bids good morning as the younger pair passes by, not paying much attention to them. Meanwhile, inside, the other four or five customers that sit scattered around the armchairs barely bat an eye towards them as they walk in, focusing only on their newspapers or crossword magazines that sit in front of them as they quietly sip on their drinks.

Despite you not sharing loads with him regarding your public image, from what he could gather, it’s clear how much you value your privacy. So it’s easy to understand why you enjoy coming here, as your presence comes and goes as just another one. 

And he quite enjoys it too, especially noticing how carefree you get in a space you’re comfortable with. Usually, on other few occasions, the two of you go out to public spaces that you’re not as used to, it’s clear how alert you are, even if you’re enjoying yourself. You limit yourself to plain clothes to not call any attention, always with what’s become your signature big sunglasses shielding part of your face -- you even wore them when you went to the cinema to which, although Harry understood the reason for, he didn’t refrain from teasing you about it. 

But today, you abandoned the hoodies and large shirts in various shades of grey. Harry knows the riskiest part of your day in being recognized would be the short walk from his building to the cafe. Still, that thankfully didn’t stop you from going back to your usual wardrobe. Instead, you’re wearing a white dress with red stripes lining along your curves, the skirt flowing all the way down your calves, showing the white sneakers covering your feet. The sunglasses are still present, of course, but you quickly push them up as soon as you walk inside.

Harry watches for a second as your eyes scan the menu written on the wall behind the counter, chuckling to himself as he knows you’re still going for the same order as usual. Before you can step closer to voice your order, however, he says, “Go find a table, I’ll get your order.”  You glance up at Harry, brows shooting up, challenging. “Medium iced coffee and a chocolate muffin.” He grins proudly as he recites your order. “Anything else?”

“No, that's it.” You bite back a smile. “You’re not paying for me, though.”

Of course, you’re insisting, he thinks, already shaking his head. “You paid last time and the time before that and, if I recall correctly, you didn’t let me have a say in it when I tried to intervene in either of them.” Harry pokes your side, nodding towards the table area. “So, go get a table. I’ll be right there.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you stay silent for a beat, clearly debating whether to keep insisting. “Fair enough.” You sigh, walking backward as you point at him. “But I’m paying next time.”

Chuckling, he keeps his eyes on you for a tick longer to catch where you’ve sat, his face warming the slightest bit once you throw him a wink as you settle back in the chair. Once he places the orders for the both of you, he notices some drawings stuck to the wall behind the counter as he waits for them to be done with. They all have a clear childlike trace to them, some more than others, and Harry assumes the more abstract one must’ve been done by a younger child. He smiles to himself, finding it an adorable addition to the place, even if it could easily go unnoticed by an inattentive eye.

“They’re from my granddaughter.” The barista smiles at Harry as he places two cups on top of the counter, nodding back towards the artwork that caught his attention. “Just turned eight. Loves drawing.”

“They look lovely.” 

“This one, actually,” The barista points to one that seems to be more recent, as it’s stuck on top of the others. It shows what looks like two girls holding hands; a smaller one holding a heart on her free hand, and a taller one with a star on top of her head. The man nods to a spot over Harry’s shoulder, “It’s her and your friend, she’s a big fan.”

“Really?” Harry’s lips part in surprise. “That’s very sweet.”

“It’s how I found out she was known.” The man lets out a low laugh, opening the display to reach for a muffin. “Millie was proper mad that I didn’t know who she was when she came to visit, but your friend was a sweet thing, signed her shirt and everything.”

Harry smiles at the story. “Sounds like her.”

“Sure does, seems like a lovely lady.” The man’s attention gets called as the front door opens with a ding. He shoots Harry one last smile, “Duty calls. Enjoy your coffee.”

Harry reaches for the cups with one hand, picking up your pastry with the other. “You too, have a good one.” He feels the words slip before he can register them and, as he realizes his mistake, he quickly turns to head for the table, eyes wide and a blush tainting his cheeks.

You lock your phone, setting it down as soon as Harry approaches the table. He sees a grin twitching on your lips as you glance up at him and he avoids your gaze, knowing it’ll only worsen the warmth on his face.

“What’s got you all flustered?” You ask, your voice verging a laugh.

“Stop.” He scratches his nose in a nervous tick. “Just told that man to enjoy his coffee.”

“Oh, no.” You burst into a fit of giggles and he peeks up at you, holding back a laugh himself as he shakes his head — he loves making you laugh. “C’mon, H, everyone does that. I’m sure he didn’t even notice.”

“Still embarrassing.”

“Just a bit.” Biting down at your bottom lip, you squint your eyes, pushing the muffin towards him. “Here, have a bite, you’ll forget all your problems.”

He breathes out another laugh, reaching to pick a piece of the sweet before shoving it into his mouth. Soon enough, his embarrassment gets lost in conversation, the rosy tone on his cheeks no longer making themselves present from shame but from laughing too hard from something you say. You two get lost in your little bubble for a good while, taking your time sipping on your drinks. Every so often, Harry steals a bite from your muffin — at first, he does it just to have a piece, but once he gets a reaction out of you, eyes narrowing at him adorably as you scrunch your nose in feign anger, he does it just to watch you.

There’s no better way of learning about you than watching, he’s found. One of the biggest changes that he noticed upon getting close to you again, is how you seem to have closed up in a way. And it’s difficult to catch on. He figures that someone who didn’t know you years ago probably doesn’t even realize how much of yourself you keep bottled up. You’re a rambler, that much is easy to pick up. But Harry’s realized that as much as that part of you remains intact, your chatters become much more superficial. You talk about specific events and memories but always narrate it as if you were a mere expectant. You rarely go into detail about your personal life all that much.

Apart from the day you were drunk on his bathtub, he’s barely got a glimpse of feelings regarding him. 

So, he resorts to picking up those bits and pieces you let escape without realizing. He enjoys noticing you (and he’s aware that’s a bit creepy of him, but he can’t help it). How you mention you light a candle before going to sleep cause it helps calm you down. How you refer to your friends with the fondest smile picking up on your lips (but also how you let slip out you only have a person or two that are close to you because getting to know new people makes you anxious). How you always smile at dogs whenever you are — sometimes you even wave at them. How you have the habit of circling your drink in your hand when you’re comfortable, much like you’re doing right now.

The last one always warms his chest. He’s realized you only do it when you let your guard down, allowing yourself to get lost in your world without having to be alert all the time. For all you know, the world outside this small table could’ve stopped spinning and neither of you would notice.

Maybe it’s why you don’t pay any mind to the two teenage girls that enter the cafe. Not until both of them stand right next to the table.

It’s the call of your name that snaps you out of your head. The girls barely blink as they stare down at you, their mouths agape in shock as they hold each other’s hands. “Is it you?”

Harry thinks there’s a flash of panic in your eyes, but it’s gone as soon as it comes. You smile as you stand, and he doesn’t fail to notice the way you turn your body slightly to shield him. “Last time I checked, that would be me, yes!” You chuckle. “What are your names?”

“I’m Lauren.” The taller one speaks up, her hand clutching her phone so tightly her knuckles are almost white. She looks down at the other one who simply stands there, wide eyes not leaving your figure for even a second. Once the other says nothing else, Lauren answers the question for her. “And she’s Georgia. She’s a bit nervous cause she’s a big fan.”

“That’s very sweet, thank you so much.” You tilt your head a bit. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You too,” Georgia says, her voice trembling and the hold on her friend’s hand. “Uhm, do- could we- if it’s not too much of a bother, could we get a picture with you?”

“Uhm, I don’t think it’s the best time right now, I’m sorry, loves.” Your voice is soft as you talk to them, but it quickly takes a more joyous tone as you suggest, “But I’d love to sign something for you if you’d like?”

“Yeah, if you can! If not, it’s okay, really.” Georgia nods, the words all but stumble out of her mouth. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“It’s no problem at all! It’s a pleasure to get to meet both of you.” 

Harry tries to watch discreetly as not to call any attention to himself, recalling what you once said about not wanting headlines of the two of you. So he only peeks up when you turn to fetch a pen from inside your bag, meeting your eyes for a second before you turn your attention back to the young fans. You chat with them for a little as you sign their phone cases, and he can’t help the tug in his heart at seeing you being so attentive to them.

“There we go.” You say as you hand Lauren her phone.

“Thank you so much!” Georgia exclaims, and even from his spot, Harry can make out a glossiness in her eyes. You pull her into a hug. “You’re really, like, one of my favorite people.”

“I’m honored.” You giggle as you back away, giving her friend a hug as well. Softening your voice once again, you keep a gentle hold to the girl’s shoulder, “Just one more thing, I’m sorry to have to ask you that but, would you mind not posting about this location?”

“Of course!” They say in unison, and Georgia is quick to add, “I wasn’t planning to!”

“Thank you for understanding.” You nod with a smile. “It was really lovely meeting the two of you! Hope we get to see each other again. Enjoy your day.”

The girls bid their goodbyes to you, and you give them one last wave before retaking your seat. Harry observes how you keep an eye on them for a beat longer before meeting his gaze, an apologetic expression adorning your face.

“That was sweet.” 

You sigh, “That was unexpected.”

“Thought that kinda thing happened a lot.”

“It does, just-” You pause, frowning your lips slightly. “Never happened in here.”

You tap your fingers against the wood of the table in a nervous tick, bringing your other hand to your mouth as you bite down on the nail of your thumb. It’s clear how alarmed you’ve gotten now that the girls are gone, eyes scanning every bit of the room. Looking anywhere but to Harry’s own worried ones. He doesn’t need to be able to read minds to know that yours is probably rushing right now from a simple glance at your face.

He reaches for your hand on top of the table to call your attention. Once you snap your gaze back on his, you let your shoulders relax a bit. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah! It’s just…” You try to brush his worry off, glancing back at the entrance before sighing again. “Do you think we could take this back to your place? Is Julia there?”

He shakes his head to your last question, “Of course, it’s not that far, anyway.”

“Thank you.” Your expression softens as you move to gather your belongings hanging from the back of your seat. “I’m sorry, I always do this.” Your shoulders fall, the edge of your lips frowning down.

“Hey, how many times do I have to tell you?” He bumps his arm against yours as both of you stand to get you to relax. “You don’t have to apologize, I understand.”

“I appreciate it.” You nod, but the crease between your brows doesn’t ease. “I just want to avoid a possible mob in case they end up posting about the location.” 

Harry tries to ignore the way his heart drops at your words. He wonders how many times you’ve been caught in a situation like this that ended up badly. “I get it.” 

The way back to his building is much different than when you were coming to the cafe a few hours ago. It’s noticeable that you’re tense as soon as you step outside, the sunglasses earning a permanent spot on your face for the time being. Even with your eyes covered, however, Harry still notices how you take in your surroundings almost cautiously. He tries to bump his hips against yours every time you do it, trying to distract you from your worries. It helps, as you shoot him a smile every time, bumping your hips back.

Screams from a nearby park call both your attention as you get closer to his building. As the day approaches the late hours of the morning, people have decided to enjoy the rare dose of sunlight that gave a break to the frequent rainfalls that cloud the city. On the other side of the road, children run around in a playground as their parents watch them from near benches. A few runners make their laps on the sidewalk lining the edge of the block as well as dog-walkers that take more of a stride sort of walk.

“Such a nice day.” You say, glancing down at the floor ahead to allow your hair to cover a bit more of your face. “It’s a shame we have to go back inside.” 

It breaks his heart to hear the way your voice takes a lower tone. He tries to meet your eyes, “Can tell you’re beating yourself up about things out of your control.” Harry pitches your arm, his next words coming out in a playful warning, stretching the word as to get you to smile.  “Stop it.”

“I can’t help it.” You let out a humorless laugh, coming to a stop at a corner to wait for a red light so you can cross. He looks down at you, but you keep your gaze trained ahead. “It is kind of my fault, you know?”

Harry frowns. “Except it’s not.”

“Thank you for trying to make me feel better about it.” You give him a small smile, shaking your head. “But in a way, it is. I know it is. And I don’t mean to complain about it or anything! Cause I’m aware of how privileged I am to get to live my dream and all that… It just-” You shrug. “It’s not always a field of flowers, I guess.”

“You’re allowed to not love every second of it, doesn’t make you ungrateful.” He argues, his hand meeting your shoulder as he gently turns you to face him. “Especially when it comes to all this privacy stuff, you deserve to have your space.”

“I know that but...Well, I signed up for it, you know? I knew my life would never be just mine once I started getting big.” You adjust the glasses on your face. Harry’s close enough that, if he focuses, he can see your eyes under the dark lenses. “And in a way, I’m used to it now, I’ve learned how to live with it.” You sigh, frowning at your lips. “What makes me uneasy when stuff like this happens- what makes me want to keep a low profile when we’re out, it’s not to protect me. It’s to protect you.”

Him? “Me?”

“Yeah…” Your voice is small, almost shy as the confession leaves your lips. Clearing your throat, you avert your eyes down as you quick some loose pieces of concrete from the sidewalk. “It’s the same with my parents or to Lyla or anyone that doesn’t have a life like mine.” You explain in a rush, trying to cover the timidity that warms your cheeks. But when you continue, it’s still clear in your tone, as the words come from your lips in almost a shame, “You don’t deserve to be exposed to all of it just because you’re part of my life. It’s not fair to you.”

It takes Harry a second to let it sink in. To understand the whole reason behind your uneasiness when going out. Why you’re so adamant about keeping your ties to him a secret. Why you try to separate him from your public side.

All this time. You’re doing it to protect him.

There’s no denial of how the confession brings a tightness to his chest. He knows it’s not what you mean to do. But he can’t help it when you sound as if you could be a burden in his life — when, in reality, it couldn’t be the furthest away from the truth. So his shoulders lump as he watches you keep your gaze away from his again, lips frowning down as he uses every ounce of self-control within himself to not pull you to him.

Instead, he ducks his head, trying to find your eyes under the lenses of your glasses. When he speaks up, his words are soft, to embrace you in a way he can’t physically, “Is this why you get so stressed about going out in public? Why you asked me to not tell anyone?” You look up at him at the question and he adds, “To protect me?”

“Of course.” You reply as if it was obvious all along. “W- Did you think it was… Something else?”

“I-I don’t know.” From his peripheral vision, he can see cars coming to a halt as the streetlight turns red, but neither of you makes a move to keep walking. The world around doesn’t matter right now. “I think I just assumed you didn’t want the media assuming…” He motions vaguely with his hand. “Anything.”

“Well, yes, to protect you from that.”

“You-” He shakes his head incredulously. There’s no denial of the bouquet of butterflies that bloom on his stomach at the prospect of you wanting to protect him. At how you say it as if it’s obvious that you’d do it in the first place. Almost treating it as if it’s your duty to do so. But he also can’t help but feel the slightest bit of guilt from it, knowing how this is the main reason that gets you anxious when you’re together. His hand reaches for your shoulder again, caressing it in silent gratitude as his expression softens, “You don’t have to do that, to stress yourself because of me. Do you know that?” 

“But I do.” You’re quick to argue. “You don’t know what it’s like, H. People are brutal. I won’t have them pestering you. I won’t have that.” There’s a clear quiver in your voice at the last few words, and Harry has to fight back the lump on his own throat at the sound of it.

“Love-”

You push up your sunglasses so you can fully glance up at him, “I’m serious.” Your eyes are set, stern, as you lock them on his. But they’re also getting glossy at the edges. “I won’t let them get to you too.” You whisper.

“It’s not your duty, love.” Harry insists, hating how you’re clearly beating yourself up for it. “I can take care of myself in case anything happens.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” The smile that tugs on your lips is weak, and you shake your head. “If you knew what it would be like...” You trail off.

“Is this why you don’t have any friends with- uh, a regular life?” Harry cringes at himself but doesn’t know how else to word this without making you feel abnormal.

You nod. “Pretty much, yeah.” 

“I understand where you’re coming from.” He says, eyes trained on yours as he wants you to take in every word that he speaks. “I do, but you maybe you shouldn’t allow those people to dictate your happiness.”

You give him a sad smile that twists his heartstrings. “That’s not what it is.”

“It’s what it seems like.” He argues, desperate to get you to understand where he’s coming from. 

The more he takes in the way your eyes water and your lips twist, shoulders falling almost in defeat — as if you’ve accepted the responsibility that you’ve weighed upon yourself — the more he has to hold back his own emotions. It’s clear the toll that this position takes on you; you’ve told him about it before. You’ve told him how you barely have anyone that you consider close — those in the industry being too worried about building their own careers on top of each other’s backs for you to be comfortable sharing any meaningful exchange (apart from very few exceptions). And now he knows why you don’t find these ties with people that have a life outside the spotlight.

 “Doesn’t it get lonely?” He questions out loud.

“All the time.” You let out a humorless laugh. “People don’t realize how lonely it can be to have a career like this.” It comes as a vent and you take a deep breath, your hand quickly coming up to wipe the sides of your eyes though there’s yet a tear to fall. “Like, yes, you have this big team with you, and everyone fawns over you everywhere you go, but-” You pause, exhaling. “After the shows, and the lights, and all that...In the end, when you go to bed, it’s just you and your pillow.”

Harry doesn’t stop himself now, taking the step to close the gap between the two of you, arms circling around you as he pulls you to him. “I hate that you have to feel like this.” He mutters into your hair, feeling you melt into him. Angling his head a bit so his voice doesn’t get muffled, he whispers, “From now on, you have me, yeah? If you ever need anything- anything, I’m just a call away.” 

You hug him tighter at the assurance, your own words coming in a breath that could have easily been missed if they weren’t spoken so close to his skin. “Thank you.”

//

“You should probably get that.”

Jack, your producer, nods towards your phone as it begins to vibrate on top of the wooden table again. You sigh from your spot on the couch, cursing silently whoever’s been blowing up your phone for the past ten minutes. Mondays in the studio are already hard enough to concentrate as it is - especially as you and Jack have been trying to get the guitar riff just right for the past hour - so to add your buzzing device to the mix feels like a cherry on top to your stress cake.

You shoot him an apologetic look as you reach for it. You wanted to wait until you were done to pay attention to whatever’s been going off so as to not lose your focus, but it seems like whoever’s been trying to reach out has been very adamant about your attention.

So you step outside, letting your eyes fall closed for a second as the outdoor breeze relaxes your senses a little. Jack’s balcony right outside his home studio is quite small and doesn’t stand very tall from the second floor, but you love how you can still have a view of a park close enough that the sunset in the back paints the full leaves of the trees gold. After a moment of peace, you sigh as you’re reminded of your duties once the phone in your hand vibrates once again.

Your brows all but meet as you take in the notifications on your screen. There are two missed calls from Sonia, and a couple of messages, not only from her but from your publicist as well. Opening up the chat, your tired eyes just give a quick scan over the words before falling on a link attached to them. Just before you click on it, you can feel your heart sink as you realize it’s a The Sun article.

“No, no, no, no, no.” You mutter to yourself as you wait for the page to load. When it does, you can feel every ounce you get cold as your dread shows itself to be true. What calls your attention first are the pictures, ones taken yesterday as you recognize your white and red striped dress. And you recognize the look of adoration in a click, perfectly timed when you took off your sunglasses. And worst of all, you recognize Harry, holding you close at the corner just before his building.

When you finally remind yourself to read the headline, you’re not sure how you don’t drop your phone all the way down at the words that stare back at you.

NEW ROMANCE? This year’s favorite breakthrough artist is spotted on a coffee date in London with a mysterious brunette!

//

AAAH It’s finally here!! I’m so sorry for taking so long with this one but I got very busy very suddenly at the end of the year but I promise next one will be here sooon!! As usual, if you enjoyed it please reblog and leave some feedback, I’m very excited to hear what’s everyone’s thoughts!! 

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader

[purple-goo-writes]

The Shadows Watching Gotham

Or Watcher as most knows them,is a popular YouTuber and Podcaster and is the outside world's only reliable source of information about the on goings of the Mask Community within the crime ridden city known as Gotham. Aka the No Man's Land and the Crime Capital of the World.

Rumor has it that Watcher is the only way an outsider can contact the Bats. If this is true or not, Superman is about the find out.

Chapter 1: A rattle of bones

The Justice League of America and their younger counterparts watched the monitor in their meeting hall with rapt attention. On it, Barry had pulled up the channel of a popular youtuber, The Shadows Watching Gotham, hoping to get some more intel on the situation on Gotham and the vigilantes that the JLA wished to recruit. Though while the older members were listening with only half an ear, the younger ones were entranced with the hypnotizing and haunting narrative as Watcher spoke. His soft, raspy voice wrapping around them like an intoxicating perfume leaving the Young Justice Members wanting to hear more. Perhaps it was the strange ambient music playing in the background that added to the mystery surrounding Watcher that had them so entranced.

"...Just a friendly reminder for all my Gothamites listening in, Dr. Crane, otherwise known as The Scarecrow, escaped Arkham during last months breakout. Please do not forget your gas masks at home as he is still at large."

Watcher sat at an old and cluttered desk, the only light from an offscreen lamp, possibly a gaslamp, which bathed the teen and his surroundings in a soft golden glow. Though the JL couldn't see anything behind the teen except for pitch blackness, possibly the result of a backdrop. They couldn't see much of the Watcher as his face was blocked by the arm, the pop filter and mic of the studio microphone the teen was using. The teen was wearing a white long sleeved shirt which was rolled up to his elbows, showing off wiry, yet muscular arms covered in an odd variety of scars most Gothamites had littering parts of them, and a pressed red vest with black embroidery swirling across it, a gold tie could be seen just below the arm of the mic. Over all, the Watcher was just as mysterious and cryptic as the vigilantes he talked about.

"Now as the sun rises upon the decrepit bones of our fair city, I must bid you all a fair the well and a hopefully Good Morning. This is Watcher signing off."

And with that the screen went dark, snapping many out of the trance they had fallen into whilst listening to the Watcher speak.

Superman cleared his throat, before standing, "As I was saying. In order to hopefully meet with these vigilantes, I have managed to establish contact with The Watcher, as he is so far our only reliable source on the vigilantes that are not simply rumors spread by the Gotham Gazette or hearsay spread about through the villain network."

Hal frowned, leaning back in his chair rocking it back on two legs, "Yet isn't he just as hard to get a hold of?"

"Which is why I am going to meet him as Clark Kent with Kon acting as my back up in the form of my son shadowing me at work," the man of steel replied, ignoring how his clone/son rolled his eyes and muttered, "Isn't that what I normally fucking do?"

Their relationship was still rocky at time, but Ma Kent was determined to get Clark to do right by the boy. After all they were only on good terms due to Ma Kent. But, Kon was going through what Ma called his rebellious stage and trying to break out of his father's shadow as most teenage sons do. Which lead to snippy comments during meetings and Clark wondering just how Kon managed to get another new piercing, personally he blamed Lex for those because of course the man would figure out how to give a Kryptonian piercings just to piss Superman off.

Clark simply sighed and went back to addressing the others, “The Watcher agreed to meet with us tomorrow evening after I explained that I was writing an article about Gotham and it’s rumored vigilantes and found that he was the only reliable source I could find with recent information. And that I learned about him thanks to my son, Conner.”

“Meaning, I have to watch over fifty videos on Youtube so not to sound stupid when I talk to the dude,” Kon muttered to his best friend, Bart, who giggled softly into his hands. Both ignoring the looks their mentors gave them, though Barry’s was more fond then reprimanding like Clark’s.

“Exactly how will you know if it is this Watcher that you are meeting?” Wonder Woman inquired, a frown settling on her face in contemplation, “After all we do not know what this mysterious Watcher looks like…”

“We will be meeting him at the abandoned opera house within Central Gotham. He said he would know it is him by the red feathers he wears,” Clark sounded confused at this but only shrugged, “It’s the best I could get, he wouldn’t agree to meet outside of Gotham. Due to Gotham being declared No Man’s Land still by the President, even with the major rebuilding done by the Waynes… Most Gothamites don’t leave now.”

He sighed at the confused looks he was getting from the other members, “That was how Watcher explained it to me after I asked.”

The next evening…

Gotham was just as gloomy and foreboding as it was described in all the forums Kon had schemed the night before. What they had failed to mention was the literal stench of despair and fear that hung in the air. Or how Kon felt like the shadows were closing in slowly around him and his sorta-dad/Genetic donor as they hung outside the desolate opera house. Really the building was something out of a horror movie, and that was saying something considering this was Fucking Gotham and most places were probably used as references for horror movie scenery. It was huge and probably had been grand looking back in its prime with its gothic architecture and scale...though now the huge dome of the building was crumbling, slowly caving into itself and the once bright walls of it’s outer shell were now grey and covered in graffiti with most of the stained panels of it’s windows busted out from various villain attacks, bullet holes littered the siding and the once bright letters announcing the next play were broken and mostly missing. Honestly, Kon expected either a ghastly apparition from Hamlet to start monologuing or a serial killer to leap from the crawling shadows of the building looming over them.

He was not expecting someone to fucking sneak up on them out of the shadows and nearly scare Kon into fucking space!

“For an investigative reporter, you aren’t very observant, Mr. Kent,” came a soft, yet raspy voice like smoke behind them, causing both Kents to nearly break cover and leap on top of the building they were standing in front of. A smoky chuckle greeted them as both Kents whirled around just shy of inhuman speeds, “Really, I’ve been standing here watching you two nervously pace for about an hour now.”

An hour?

But how did they not hear him?

Kon was distracted from his thoughts as he took in just who was standing before them. The other teen, as their voice sounded young and didn’t yet have the full changes that signaled adulthood, only came up to Kon’s chin making him around five foot something compared to Kon’s near six feet. (He was so glad they fixed the aging and growing thing. He did not want to be stuck at the height of a thirteen year old forever.) They looked possibly male, but Kon wasn’t going to assign pronouns until they properly introduced themselves it was only polite according to Ma. Kon was still surprised that they managed to sneak up on the two Kents. They were wiry, yet muscular, built mainly for running from what Kon could tell, it was hard to tell with them still somehow blending in with the shadows despite how they were dressed. A white button down, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, with a bright red vest with black embroidery, a golden tie tucked into the vest, black dress slacks and slightly scuffed yet still shiny red loafers. A black trench coat was slung over one shoulder as the person watched them with amused blue eyes, the only part of their face they could see thanks to the bulky, yet futuristic looking, black gas mask with red lights. Kon could only see the person’s eyes thanks to the clear face shield protecting their eyes from foreign objects. Shaggy and long black hair framed the person’s face, the inky blackness of their hair almost blending into the Gotham night if it wasn’t for the bright red feathers tied throughout the inky mass.

Bright red feathers…

Feathers!

“Oh you’re Watcher!” Kon exclaimed being the first to recover, causing the podcaster to chuckle, “Oooh? I see you actually did remember. I was beginning to think that staring was just what Metropolians did.”

#the shadows watching gotham #podcaster!Tim #tim is a mystery man and apparently the YJ teens dig it #listened to Heather Dale Incantations 1 album for this #batman #batman au #isolated batfam

[kyle-valenti]

burnout only feels like burning

2.7k / Summary: kyle valenti doesn't have the same quarantine as his friends; an exploration of kyle's trauma during covid as a doctor. (tw depression & other triggers you’d imagine with this subject)

read & comment/ ao3

A little like the virus itself, Kyle’s relationship with his mask begins with worry, annoyance, and then pain. He’s more than happy to have the proper N-95 mask as they begin to get their first case at Roswell General but then a couple more patients trickle in and within a few days his skin is irritated and itching. Maybe it’s the news, maybe it’s the texts from his friends that he’s increasingly missing, but when the Regiment starts spouting off about how COVID is a joke he thinks it might be affecting his nerves too. By week three his former red mark left by the mask has become a permanent feature to his face and by week five it’s not a mark but a bruise instead. Blisters and cracks in his skin litter his hands from over-washing. His feet become so overused the pads of his feet feel numb and bruised and he wears through an entire pair of shoes.

Positivity has fled from his life by week seven and now he’s inside of a survival mode he’s never experienced. He thought after last year he’d be used to anything the world (or universe, rather, given all these aliens) could throw at him. Now what feels foolish, he had believed that there was nothing that could be worse than the previous pain of losing a patient or finding out his father had experimented on people’s lives. 

When he’s out of ventilators and CPAP machines because Albuquerque needs them more and he has to choose whether or not to save the life of an eighty five year old or a thirty two year old he remembers from high school, he breaks.

 Guilt is one thing, grief is another, but the pure rage he feels knowing that Max Evans is out on the town patrolling as some fucking cop and not someone who could heal most of this hospital makes him want to commit actual murder. Maybe trading the blood of an alien on his hands would feel less heart-wrenching. But no. Max had brought back Rosa and had paid the price. Quelling his anger, he went back to work.

 He slept at the hospital most nights in the height of it. Sure the couch was rough, but it was better than the other on-call doctor beds down the hall. Three twelve hour ER shifts of a usual work week doubled to five days of thirteen hour shifts. Soon there’s a week where he pulls double shifts for an entire week when one of his nurses is urgently hospitalized herself. Hospital directors had left them with no PPE except contaminated masks to reuse. Maria, Isobel, and Rosa are in the forefront of a drive to make and donate masks to his hospital after some social media posts that he doesn’t even see until the cloth masks arrive and his medical assistants give him their handwritten note. It makes him smile, but smiling feels so foreign that he almost wants to break from that.

 Visitors are no longer allowed which means Kyle isn’t allowed to use his bedside manner to comfort the family of patients. He has to facetime mothers, spouses, and children and hold the phone over a patient who can’t breathe without machine assistance and pretend that everything is fine and that there’s still hope despite the hypoxia and lack of rising vitals. Ignore that if the patient goes into cardiac arrest more than once, the kindest thing to do given prognosis is to let the patient pass. Resuscitation and DNR (a patient’s begging request to not be resuscitated) becomes a word he uses in his daily work and not simply for intense surgeries.

 Exhaustion isn’t a deep enough adjective to describe the fugue state he goes into. File to file, room to room, ventilator to next… he isn’t surprised when his body starts to wear down. When he no longer feels hunger and instead feels all too hot and dizzy. Telling himself it’s just because of how much he’s exerting his body while covered in layers and layers of protective clothing doesn’t help the fact that he’s starting to have more trouble breathing as he walks the hallways at a fast pace. When he begins to cough, he does what he promised himself he wouldn’t do and drives out post-shift to the desert cabin of Max Evans.

 Part of him is too desperately tired to knock, but when he arrives on the property with the cop car idle and the house dark and at peace for the night, his fury greets him with the embrace of a long-lost friend. Knuckles pound at the wood and Max answers the door with surprise and a general look of defense, and Kyle tries not to immediately punch him in the face at the fact he looks like he had woken up from a comfortable sleep.

 “Heal me.” Kyle manages to spit out.

 “I—what’s wrong?”

 “Beginning stages of respiratory distress, fever, nausea—what do you fucking think?”

 “Kyle—,” Max starts to say, the hesitation deepening, and that does it.

 “No. I have not asked you for anything in all of this, Evans. Anything!” He shouts, voice hoarse. “Not when people got sick, not when they started dying, not even when we started having to let people die on purpose. And you know what? I wasn’t going to even come and ask you now, but I can’t get sick when I’m the one here fucking saving lives out of the two of us and you’re just cruising the streets handing out goddamn traffic tickets.”

 Max’s face isn’t stony like it usually is when Kyle’s yelling at him; this time it’s crushed and guilty but not nearly enough. “What kind of hours you work this week, Evans? A nice 8 to 4? Did you get facetime with Isobel or your mom, maybe binge through a few books and movies after you’re home? Did you sit down and eat a nice dinner and or go over to drink a few beers with Guerin since you can’t get sick? Even get a nice eight hours of sleep in your own bed in your nice quiet home?”

 No response.

 “I am not asking to sequence your DNA like Liz. All I am asking is for you to let me heal people since you don’t want to.”

 A night breeze is all that makes noise for a moment as Kyle catches his breath and glares at Max, who stands quietly but is staring down at his boots before he finally looks up and nods. Max steps forward then, and Kyle sees that his eyes are actually filled with tears. Temper deflating, but still not subsiding entirely, given that not much else is able to be done; Kyle lets Max place a hand on his shoulder and feels the extremely weird feeling spread throughout his body. Something more electric than anything else, which God knew made a lot more sense concerning his powers and how the body operated with electrical nerve impulses, but that is a train of thought better left for another day. He wants to just walk away, and he almost does, but he still mutters a “thank you” before he does so.

When his nurse dies a few days later and he watches as the staff double bag her body to take to the morgue, he escapes to his office and crashes on his couch with sobs. There’s no one here to support him. He can’t go to his mother’s home and collapse into one of her comforting embraces without risking infecting her. He can’t get wasted at the Wild Pony with Maria when it’s closed. He can’t visit Rosa or Arturo at the Crashdown. Keeping his friends and family safe meant keeping them away from him. Keeping them safe meant he needed to stop pushing his head into his hands to try and control the sound of his crying and get back to work at saving the lives around them.

He gets put on leave by the hospital administrator when he’s almost arrested for decking Wyatt Long in the hospital parking lot as the idiot stood outside with a sign rallying Regiment members to make sure the hospital was told it was killing people on purpose for the election. If Jenna hadn’t been the officer on duty he would have been cuffed and put on record, jeopardizing his license, but there was some self-preserving part of him that desperately wished for his practice to be over anyway. He’s not even sure how Jenna handles it, honestly, all he remembers is her dropping him off at his house from her patrol car like she had been nothing but an uber. No matter how angry and adamant he gets, his boss refuses to bend, saying it’s for his own good given the connections the Long’s have in the town and how Kyle has worked almost 74 of the past 76 days.

Alex is the first to visit him, unannounced. When the doorbell rings Kyle is mindlessly pretending to watch some tv show in his living room that’ll distract him from his consuming thoughts about patients, so he doesn’t get up to answer. He checks his silent phone to see if he was forewarned of a visitor but sees nothing. Unsure if it’s his boss or a patient’s family, he forces himself up onto his sore feet and opens the door after grabbing a regular mask off the coffee table. Black face mask on and standing further out from the door on the porch is Alex, the usual gruff hello turned into something soft. “Hey.”

Kyle heaves a sigh. He had wondered when the pity visits would begin. “Hey. You really shouldn’t be around me, you know.”

“I’m clearly a minimum of eight feet away in an open space while masked.” Alex smarts back. “Either way, I’m worried about you.”

Scoffing, he shakes his head. “Don’t fucking worry about me. Worry about getting sick, because if I have to see another person I care about die, I--,”

“Kyle.” the other says too kindly, the sort of pacifying voice Alex reserved for only the most dire situations. “I have no idea what you’re dealing with in specifics, but my experiences do overlap with yours in some places.”

“And?”

Maybe it came out a little too rude, because Alex raises a brow, but then sighs instead. “And I’m just checking in to make sure you know people care about you.”

“Thanks, Manes.” Kyle huffs in return, managing not to roll his eyes because focusing on being blunt and abrasive was so much easier.

“Just be careful.” Alex interjects before Kyle could close the door and turn back to his show. “Dealing with the trauma of what you’re dealing with gets dark very quickly.”

“Because I punched Wyatt Long?” he spits back sarcastically.

“No, because the suicide rates for healthcare professionals are drastically increasing along with the rates of PTSD diagnoses.” Alex says flatly, ever one to be unfazed by sarcasm. “And I’ve lost more active duty members to suicide than I have combat.”

Kyle pauses, caught. Maybe Alex had known he would be, because there isn’t some way he can give a smile and reassuring wave with him like he could his mother or Liz. While Kyle hadn’t actively thought of a plan, he couldn’t pretend he had noticed signs of depression the second he was alone in his house. 

“The quiet is the worst part, right?” Alex says, all but reading his mind. “Not always because of the flashbacks, although those are horrible, but because if things are quiet then--,”

“--people are dying.” Kyle finishes, his voice raspier by the end of the three words. “Yeah, well, mine still are.”

“They’re going to.” Is what felt like a cold response, but somehow gave Kyle the understanding he’s been craving. “They’re going to die and because of your profession you’re going to be able to save some of them. Which will make you think you’re responsible to save all of them and because you’re a good person you’re going to feel guilty in ways that no one will understand for being human and failing to.”

“Failing is all I do lately.” Kyle replies. “Usually the wins feel higher than the losses as a doctor, but with this-- and no one outside of it cares. They go outside and yell about how this is about a fucking election and when it’s not the patients, it’s the hospital pretending they don’t have enough money to buy us proper protection. Or the government saying this will all go away and that it’s just a light cold.”

Alex gives a small nod. “I know. I also know telling you the same advice that you’d give another doctor of trying not to burn out and instead taking a small rest is useless. So I’m just going to drop off these dvd’s and make you report back to me the difference when you’re done.”

Star Trek and Star Wars. Kyle finds a smile tug on his lips. Alex leaves with one on his as well.

When he gives a response to Alex a few days later on how Star Wars is better not more than a few minutes later Deluca is texting him with recommendations on joining her Buffy the Vampire Slayer rewatch. There’s something sweet about the fact that people have been clearly talking about him, even if definitely borderline creepy with how nosy his circle of friends can be, but he sighs and lets Maria add him to the group chat she has with Rosa and Liz where they review each episode after the fact and even chimes in every now and then. Isobel gets added not long after due to an Instagram story Maria shares and then the group has moved onto Friends after everyone shoots down Liz for suggesting Grey’s Anatomy on behalf of Kyle. Alex is also in there, even if it’s rare he chimes in with an opinion, but once they start Friends his commentary about how much he hates Ross that gets the entire group riled up does tend to make him laugh. Even Kyle agrees with Forest-- whose opinion had been shared by Alex-- that Chandler had all too many queer-coded scenes with Joey.

His mother facetimes him daily, which given how they both don’t exactly go out much starts to become monotonous, until she begins to give in and talk about memories she has of their father. Tidbits she never would have shared with him about their adult life when he was a child or teenager. He in turn facetimes Rosa and shares some of the memories of their father as well, which as much as she tries to pretend she doesn’t want for Arturo’s sake she clearly does with the million questions she asks every single time and the small smile she gives him at the end of their calls.

Liz updates him on her work which is a nice reprieve from everyone’s normalcy and lack of medical jargon sometimes, especially when she gives him inside info on covid vaccine studies not yet published to the general public yet. Everything in him wants this more than anything else in the world right now and he texts her almost every day asking if she’s heard more news even when he knows things take time. She’s a good sport about everything, even when he shares in a very angry rant about Max Evans and how they could have helped so many more people so much more quickly with his DNA-- however selfish that might have been.

When he goes back to work, he feels refreshed, even when it makes things hit like a freight train once more. Lost in a sea of inadequacy, his feelings extend past the pandemic. Even when things return to a level of normalcy and the cases subside he gets alien medical drama thrown in his face once more, and he starts to wonder if he’ll ever recover. If he was wrong to choose this calling. If the fact he can’t help Max or Maria is a sign from above or his father that it’s time to make some career move or change location like his mother and Liz. But, like he tells Michael Guerin. He can’t think he can face his future children and say he walked away from this. Or let people die by quitting, just like Rosa warns. And so he stays and tries to heal both other people and himself.

#so yeah this was the lighter version #i had to stop before things got to dark for my own mind #also genuinely feel like the mentions he gives to rosa about feeling lost #should stem from this if the writers aren't cowards #kyle valenti #rnm fic #kyle valenti fic #roswell new mexico #tw covid #tw depression #my fic #my post