#slightly uncool mate

[bobbie-robron]

Yeah, you’d both be old then and even more annoying.

07-Feb-2019

#robron #robert sugden #aaron dingle #liv flaherty #the lads and wine #the lads watching liv & jacob in the background #it’s mostly about the lads and their expressions #slightly uncool mate #overprotective Aaron #when seb is older bringing home girlfriends or boyfriends #next appearance was on the 12th of February #20190207 #201902 #robron episodes 2019

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

hi!! this is the same anon from earlier and i saw you wanted to write for james potter. and i’m so sorry if you’ve done something similar. so maybe after a quidditch match, win or loss, all james wants to do is lie and bed with reader and hug her. but they’re not dating and he ends up confessing too, still tired, he doesn’t even realize he’s admitted his feelings

thank you again for your time:))

-can i be ‘🎀 anon’? lolol

hi lovely 🎀! thanks for your sweet words and adorable requests 😊 i hope you like it!

pairing: James Potter x reader tags: fluffy fluff, some angst, gn reader if you want word count: 1.9k

Cuddles and Confessions

So close. So bloody close. And to bloody Slytherin to top it off? The defeat stung worse than any other James could remember. 

As he lumbers back up toward the castle after the match, frustrated and furious, some Slytherin fans jeer at him from across the lawns. It pushes him over an edge, and he turns to — well, he’s not sure to what; berate them? beat them up? — a strong hand grabs his shoulder and turns him back around.

“Easy, mate. They’re idiots but they’re not worth it,” Sirius says easily. Sirius of all people being the voice of reason has James realizing maybe he needs to calm down. 

James falling into step with Sirius without a word, the two make their way back up to the castle. 

When they get to the common room, it’s packed with mad and sad-looking Gryffindors consoling each other, complaining about bad calls, bad-mouthing the Slytherins: a typical post-match defeat. 

“Thank Godric,” Sirius sighs, heading immediately to a small table stacked with firewhisky. He grabs two glasses, but James stops him before he fills the second one.

“No thanks, mate. Don’t really feel like the company,” he says, scanning the room. He admits to himself there is one face that would have made him stay, one person whose company was actually the only thing he wanted right now. But he doesn’t see you. So he stalks off, bounding up the stairs to his currently empty dormitory. 

He’s lying on his bed, tossing a ball up and down when he hears a soft knock. 

“What?” he yells, the harshness of his voice even surprising him a bit. Surprise shifts to horror when your beautiful, blushing face peeks around the door. 

“Hi, Jamie,” you say shyly. “I’m sorry. Sirius said you wanted to be alone. I should’ve listened. I didn’t mean to annoy you. I’ll just —” 

“Wait, wait, wait,” he rushes, going over to you and pulling you into his room. “I’m so sorry, love. Please don’t go.” 

You smile a bit at this, looking down at your feet before nodding slightly. 

“Ugh, I’m a prick. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” His voice is soft now, warm and enveloping as you look into his pleading eyes. 

“It’s okay,” you chuckle. “I get it. Rough night, huh?” 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, smiling for the first time all day. You had a way of bringing that out in him. 

“Want a hug?” you offer. He nods immediately, internally cringing for being so uncool in front of you.

“Yes please,” he half laughs. 

You step close to him, and even this increased proximity has him reeling. He can’t wait to feel your warmth around him, to smell your hair as he nuzzles into you. 

He’d been hoping to win tonight’s match for more reasons than one. He hated Slytherin for starters. He loved winning for seconds. But also, he had been hoping a Gryffindor victory party could be the perfect place to finally tell you how he feels about you. Firewhisky flowing, adrenaline pumping, maybe he’d finally have the courage he was supposed to have as a Gryffindor and tell you the truth. 

You bring your arms up around his shoulders, pulling him close to you, bringing one hand to his messy hair and scratching comfortingly. James’s large body immediately melts into yours. He hums into the crook of your neck, and you giggle. 

“Thanks for coming to check on me,” he whispers into your shoulder, holding you close. 

“Why would I want to be downstairs wallowing with everyone else when I could wallow with you?” you tease, pulling back slightly to be face to face again. He hates how much he just wants to pull you back into him. 

“Oh, I’m much better company than those wankers,” he plays along. 

“Yes, I’m sure. Seems you’re quite chipper from your greeting.” 

He cringes and whispers “sorry” again. You shake your head quickly, wanting him to know you’re only teasing. 

The silence stretches a bit too long, neither of you knowing what to say. It’s especially awkward because your hands are still on his shoulders, his on your hips. 

“So what were you doing?” you ask, coming up with nothing better. 

“Just lying in bed, wallowing,” he confesses. 

“Sounds fun,” you chuckle. You break apart from him, the tension becoming too much and head over to his bed, plopping down onto it. He laughs and follows, sitting close next to you. “What do you want to do?” you ask, your voice low. “I came to cheer you up, but I think I’m doing a bang up job so far,” you chuckle, scrunching your nose. 

Before thinking about it, James brings his hand up to your face, lightly tracing his finger down your nose for you to relax it. 

“You’re not,” he says earnestly. “I’m already better, just having you here.” He thinks he feels your face warm where his hand still caresses it but pushes the idea down, not wanting it to be wishful thinking. 

“So what do you want to do?” you ask again gently.

“Honestly?” he asks shyly. Nervous was a weird look on him, usually so cocky. 

“Of course,” you giggle in your warmest tones, wanting him to be open with you, relishing in the intimacy you seemed to be building. 

“I want to keep lying in bed wallowing.” 

You stiffen immediately, chiding yourself for misreading his nerves. He wanted you to leave; that’s why he seemed shy. 

James sees — and feels — you tense at his words, and luckily for him, he realizes right away what you’re probably thinking. He continues before he can stop himself, dreading your leaving more than dreading saying something stupid. 

“With you,” he adds hastily. He feels himself blush, hates it, but pushes on. “I want to lie in bed and wallow… with you,” he repeats more softly. 

“Oh,” is all you can think to respond.

“I mean, just hang out, you know. I just… you just… I just like hanging out with you. And even just your hug made me feel better,” he rambles sweetly. 

You smile and pull away from him a bit. Before he can be disappointed, though, you’re pulling him with you as you shuffle further back onto the bed, lying down and bringing him horizontal with you by the shoulder. 

You’re lying next to each other, both tense, facing the ceiling, your sides grazing but nothing more. You look over at him, and he looks at you, and you both look away like idiots. 

You take a deep breath, reminding yourself he literally just told you he wanted to be here with you, clinging to that to give you the courage for what you were about to do. You turn toward him and bring your hand up to his hair. His eyes snap to yours. First they show shock but that quickly melts to adoration. Then they show nothing at all as they close in comforted bliss. You chuckle softly and see the corners of his mouth tug up at the sound. 

“Feels nice,” he whispers.

“Yeah?” you whisper too. He just nods. 

You shuffle closer to him, and he turns his body towards yours. Your arm is cramped now between your two close bodies, so you do the reasonable thing for comfort, you tell yourself, and wrap your arm under his shoulders. His face coming to the crook of your neck, you miss the huge smile that breaks out on it at the contact. 

He’s lying on your shoulder now, the rest of his body flush with yours. Your arm is around him, your hand coming up to continue playing with his hair. James brings his arm over you, hugging you close, and you place your arm on top of his. 

It crosses James’s mind that friends don’t cuddle. But he stops his internal monologue in time to savour the moment rather than over-analyse it, which he’s bound to do later.

You just lie there in silence for  a bit, the tension having eased considerably. 

In your warm, comfortable cocoon, you bring your face closer to the top of his head on your shoulder and nuzzle him a bit. He just hums in response. 

“You’re comfy,” he says. It sounds muffled, his mouth squished against your shoulder. You laugh, and it shakes him up and down the slightest bit. 

James loves the feeling of your vibrating chest just below him. He can’t help himself and tickles you where his hand rests near your ribcage. You laugh louder. You hold down his arm to stop him and playfully shake him off a bit to protect yourself from more tickling. His grip tightens in response, and he’s almost on top of you by the time he’s done adjusting himself. 

“No, no, don’t go,” he chuckles. “I’ll stop.” 

Your laughter has mostly subsided, but your voice is raspy as you respond, “Promise?” He nods into your shoulder. “Fine. I’ll stay if you behave.” 

He laughs, squeezes you, whispers, “Promise.”

Any tension that had been left has dissipated completely, and you fall into easy chat as you hold each other close. Your hand continues playing with his hair, tugging it when he says something stupid. His arm draped over you occasionally squeezing you more tightly whenever either of you says something nice. You go over the highlights of the match, lamenting the result. Without realizing it, you start talking about any and everything else, and by the time the conversation lulls for the first time, both of you chuckling lightly, James wonder how much time has gone by. Not enough, he thinks to himself, wishing this would go on forever. 

The quiet, your hand in his hair, your warmth radiating around his body, it all soothes him into a half slumber. It washes over him how exhausted his body is from the match, how tense it had been from the fury at its result.

“This is nice,” he slurs. 

“Mmhmm,” you hum. 

“I’m not even mad anymore.” He sounds astounded even in his sleepy tones. You chuckle. 

“Good.” 

“Mmmm. We’ll prank the Slytherins tomorrow. And I’ll think of another time to tell you how I feel.” Your hand halts its motions. James is still completely relaxed, and you realize he’s pretty much half asleep, not truly realizing what he’s saying.

You don’t want to take advantage of him in this state, but you want to be honest with him too, and he clearly wanted to talk to you about whatever this was. 

So, you warmly whisper, “How do you feel, Jamie?”

“I love you,” he mumbles. You’re melting at his words, and you can’t wait till tomorrow to say them back. You shift your weight so you’re more facing James than under him, and this rattles him a bit more awake. His drowsy eyes are heavy initially but then they startle slightly. Before he can worry or regret, you hold his face gently in both your hands, your thumbs caressing his cheeks. 

“James…” He just looks deeply into your eyes, his eyebrows furrowed, not saying anything. “I love you, too.” 

His face shifts as if in slow motion. His eyebrows rise; his lips smile widely; his eyes crinkle.

“You love me?” He sounds equal parts giddy and disbelieving. 

“Yeah, I love you, you grump.” He chuckles. “You love me?” you echo.

He takes his time responding. Scanning your features adoringly. Eventually, finally, calmly and assuredly he says again, “I love you,” nodding as he closes the little distance between you. 

Your kiss is slightly awkward at first, your lips smiling automatically at his words before realizing they’re being called on to take on new, intoxicating shapes. 

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter fanfic #marauders #marauder x reader #marauders fanfic #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #harry potter fanfic #sirius black

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Jaguar Diana violating tiger Yang's personal space like that was so uncool, can someone (possibly panther Blake) comfort and support our tiger please? 🥺

Consent is highly promoted here, and Jaguar Diana definitely didn't have it. Let's make Tiger Yang feel better.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Panther!Blake: (growling as she returns to the enclosure) Damn Wonder Cat. Thinks she can just swoop in here and lick my mate. (Notices T!Y still frozen with the cubs trying to push her back into motion)

Stripe: (half the size ot T!Y now - pushes against T!Y's side) Come on, Pa. Move.

Black: (slightly smaller than Stripe but bigger than P!B - helping his brother push) She's. Not. Budging.

Spot: (same size as P!B - reaching up and pulling T!Y's ear) C'mon, Pa. Wut's gotten into you?

Panther!Blake: I got this, cubs. Run along.

Cubs: (exchange glances but trot along. They end up hiding in the tree and brush to spy)

Panther!Blake: Yang.

Tiger!Yang: (still frozen)

Panther!Blake: (rubs up underneath T!Y's chin while chaffing and gives gentle licks to her cheek)

Tiger!Yang: (snaps out of her daze) Oh, hey, babe.

Panther!Blake: Are you okay?

Tiger!Yang: I.... I don't know? I wasn't expecting that. Didn't really like it.

Panther!Blake: I'm sorry, Love. (Rubs up again and lays down) Snuggles?

Tiger!Yang: Snuggles sound nice. (Lay's down next to P!B) I like this much more.

#bumbleby #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #rwby #big cat au #tiger yang #panther blake

[fruity-phrog]

How do you think Issac reacts to Colin coming out?

Okay you know this is a good question to answer.

Isaac...well, the painful truth is Isaac is canonically, at least slightly homophobic. He, a grown man, uses gay as an insult. As a negative connotation. While the others may laugh at this, he's the one to say it. That he is Colin's closest friend on the team...

Obviously, he will want to be there for Colin. Those two are clearly very close. Isaac's little "Are you alright?" when Colin got benched proves that. Isaac can recognize when Colin is feeling uneasy (most of the time) which stems from a long relationship. So he will want, or need, to be there for him.

On the other hand, Isaac has clearly been brought up on the concept of toxic masculinity and patriarch. He needed an entire episode to remind him that football is a game. He threw a chair at a tv when the news was talking shit about Richmond. And, like I said, he makes less-than-ideal jokes. He obviously doesn't think of himself as homophobic, but he makes Colin feel uncomfortable and unwanted without meaning to. A part of him will feel repelled and confused when Colin comes out.

However, I think he will beat himself up when Colin comes out. He clearly puts a lot of pressure on himself (again, as seen in Rom-Communism) and feels the need to hold himself accountable since he stopped bullying Nate. I think the main reason he will take some time to "accept" Colin is that he will immediately remember the stuff he said. Those jokes that previously were funny banter are suddenly unkind and uncool. Isaac will feel bad for them - of course he will, he's Colin's best mate - and I think that might cause some misunderstanding plot where Colin thinks Isaac is more homophobic than originally thought but really Isaac is just dealing with his own emotions. I'm really not a fan of misunderstandings plotlines, but I think I could let that pass because I would be euphoric about correctly theorizing something.

Anyway, that's the gist of it. Of course, in the end he will accept Colin, but he will go through a mini-journey to do so and by GOD I hope that's in episode 6.

EDIT: HOLY SHIT I JUST FOUND OUT THE SYNOPSIS FOR THE NEXT EPISODE IS "One night out unlocks truth for many."??? HOLY SHIT????

#cedar crap #tl #ted lasso #isaac mcadoo #colin hughes #ask

[amethyste-7urquoise]

Lovely Drarry (2/2)

Draco stared at Harry with wide eyes, unsure of how to react to what the dark-haired man had just said. He looked around, wondering if this was a bad joke. After all, Draco was doing him a lot of dirty tricks, so it could very well be revenge. But even when he looked around, he didn't see anyone, it was just the two of them. He refocused on Harry, who was waiting for his answer, genuinely stressed, and he noticed. Unlike him, Harry was a real open book when it came to his emotions, he was almost adorable at times.

"And can I at least know why?" Draco asked perhaps too aggressively.

"To be honest, it's for several reasons…" The Gryffindor thought about the words, then began to speak again after taking a deep breath. "Actually… I'm sick of hating you, I'm sick of being teased, picked on, harassed and that's even for my friends… I don't even know why you're being like this with us and if it's really just for the fact that I didn't shake your hand in first year then I'm going to tell you honestly, I think it's a lousy reaction… And also, I've been watching you…"

Draco was starting to get a sneer of a mocking smile on his lips, ready to retaliate in a scathing manner but he stopped when he heard the last sentence of his Nemesis. He looked up at him, urging him to continue.

"I've been watching you and I've noticed a lot of things that made me question everything I thought about you… I've noticed that you help others, not just your comrades, in a discreet way so that no one would catch you helping them… You are full of benevolence but you hide it behind a huge shell. I also noticed a lot of your personality which I find sincerely interesting, we have common points on certain things. So yes, I would like to learn more about you and I think our friendship could be really good. You're a good person Draco…"

The blond tickeled at the last sentence again as well as at the use of his first name which touched him. He remained silent, inwardly weighing the pros and cons of this potential future friendship. He finally spoke, with no animosity.

"You want to know why I'm doing all this to you?… I'm doing all this shit to you because… I'm jealous of your friends and especially of you. And you piss me off. You piss me off because you have a perfect life and yet you manage to complain about it, it's a real talent of yours. So yes, you lost your parents to Voldemort and you have a good scar now but that's really the only uncool thing that happened to you, but the rest is perfect!… I really wish I was you… Harry."

The dark-haired man listened carefully before smiling slightly at him. He smiled to reassure him, as if to let him know that he heard and understood his thoughts. He also smiled at the fact that it was crazy how little they actually knew each other.

After that, the two boys talked about their lives to better understand each other. And little by little, their discussions rambled on about many different things, asking sometimes awkward questions to get to know each other better, and they saw that they did indeed have a lot in common. This discussion seemed lunar to them, neither of them would ever have thought that they could have discussed like this without ending up killing each other.

Then, as the days went by, they would come to the same place to continue talking, spending hours without even realizing it. The friendship in question formed very quickly, but it changed just as quickly into love. They admitted it after several months, that evening, hiding in the room on request, where they did not let go of each other's eyes, as if the one who looked down would die.

They were true soul mates, but they would learn to understand that in time.

(END)

#harry potter #hp fandom #drarry #hogwarts #soul mates #true love #lovely #2/2 #sorry for my english #harry x draco #draco top #harry bottom #secret relationship #end

[nah-she-didnt]

Erm.... hi.... I don't think this was on the prompt list that you posted recently, but it's a prompt I've seen somewhere else on Tumblr: for Wolfstar, could you do "I love you no matter what your brain tells you."? It's totally 100% okay if not ofc, no pressure <3

Hello! Sorry this took a bit, inspiration struck, but free time did not. I altered your prompt a tiiiny bit to make it a cleaner fit for my idea.

Also, while I LOVE my jily-centric followers so much, if any wolfstar blogs out there wanted to reblog this I would love to get into that space more since I do write a fair number of remus/sirius fics!

Enjoy! Once again, I did not proof read this thoroughly, so I apologize for any obvious typos!

--

“I Love You No Matter What Your Head Tells You”

Remus was utterly exhausted.

His first night as a prefect had not gone smoothly. One particularly thick first year had managed to get himself lost on the way to the Gryffindor common room, a feat that Remus previously thought was impossible considering that the prefects always led the first years to the dorm in one large group. However, Matthew McMorris claimed he’d been so distracted by a painting of medieval witches on the third floor that he’d looked up to find his group nowhere to be found. And so, it fell to Remus to retrieve him. Thank god for the map.

Remus turned to shoot McMorris a stern look as they climbed through the portrait hole. “Right, straight upstairs with you. You’ll be grateful for a full eight hours of sleep before your first lesson tomorrow, trust me.” The boy scowled at him before scampering away to the boy’s staircase. 

Remus yawned and stretched dramatically as he glanced around the room. Most of the students had already gone to bed, but James, Peter, and Dorcas sat together on the couch in front of the fire. 

“Alright?” James asked absentmindedly as he studied his hand of Exploding Snap cards. Peter held his hand upside down as if hoping that a new perspective would allow inspiration to strike. 

“Fantastic,” Remus muttered as he dropped into the seat next to Dorcas, “who’s winning?” 

“Who do you think,” Peter grumbled as he watched James play a particularly good hand, “how do you manage to rope me into this stupid game every time?” 

James shrugged. “I guess you’re a glutton for punishment.” 

The boys continued to bicker. Dorcas nudged Remus with her elbow. “Do you know what’s up with Black tonight?” 

Remus didn’t meet her gaze. He knew that Sirius had been in a particularly bad mood on the Hogwarts Express. The mood must have been the result of an entire summer spent cooped up in Grimmauld Place. “What do you mean?”

“The berk snapped at me earlier!” Dorcas scoffed, “I asked him how his summer was and said ‘mind your own fucking business.’ Very uncool.” 

“Yeah,” Remus said distractedly as he glanced towards the boys’ staircase, “extremely uncool.” 

“Don’t even think about going up there, Moony,” James called over his shoulder, “he’s not in the mood. We’re giving him some space before we go up.” 

Remus frowned at James. “You mean you’re just leaving him up there, alone? After the summer he’s had?”

James shrugged again. “He said he wanted to be alone. I wasn’t about to argue.” 

Remus shook his head and stood. “Well, I’m going to check on him.” 

“Godspeed, mate,” Peter called at his retreating back. 

Remus marched towards their dormitory determinedly, but lost confidence with each step up the spiral stairs. Sirius could be wildly unpleasant when he was in one of his moods, and he’d already had a stressful night of rounding up wild first years. Nevertheless, Remus couldn’t bear to think of him up there all alone. Perhaps when Sirius said he wanted space from his friends, he didn’t mean Remus himself. Maybe Sirius would be glad to see him. 

Remus paused with his knuckles inches from the door. One last chance to turn back, he thought to himself. After a moment’s hesitation, he shoved his worries aside and rapped loudly on the door. 

A loud hmph greeted his knock. Remus took this as an indication that he was allowed to enter. 

Sirius was sprawled out on his four-poster bed, still fully clothed. He stared up at the ceiling as he tossed an old quaffle up into the air only to catch it at his chest again and again. He didn’t look around as Remus sidled into the room.

“Um, hi,” Remus offered awkwardly, “did you have a good time at the feast?”

Sirius grunted again.

“Oh. Well, good,” he waited for Sirius to say something back, but he seemed fixated on throwing and catching that damn quaffle. 

At least a minute of silence passed. Remus felt himself sweating slightly. He glanced around the room, desperate for something to talk about. The silence was oppressive. If he didn’t say something soon, he would explode faster than Peter’s cards.

In his desperation, Remus felt himself ask the worst possible question. “Did you have a good summer?” 

Sirius caught the quaffle one last time, then hugged it to his chest. Remus could have smacked himself. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, “I just meant- we don’t have to talk about your summer, let’s talk about something-” 

“No,” Sirius said softly, still gazing at the ceiling, “it’s alright. My summer was shit, thank you for asking.” 

There wasn’t a hint of irony or anger in his tone. It was a simple truth. His summer had been pure, total shit. 

“I’m sorry,” Remus mumbled to his shoes. 

He heard Sirius scoff. “Not your fault.” 

Another moment of silence followed this pronouncement. However, this silence wasn’t like the one before. Sirius seemed to be thinking long and hard about what he had just said, completely lost in his own thoughts. It was as if he’d forgotten that Remus was in the room. 

Finally, he spoke again.

“They’ve gone absolutely mental,” he nearly whispered, “mental. You know they’re full-on blood purists now, right?” 

Remus shifted uncomfortably. He knew that Sirius’ parents had become more and more radicalized over the years, but Sirius had rarely opened up about their beliefs, and Remus never asked.

“They think I’m the ultimate blood traitor. Worse than a blood traitor, actually. A ‘lazy, ungrateful, sorry excuse for a son.’ That was what she called me last night when I told her I didn’t want to come home for the holidays. Ungrateful because I don’t want to end up a hateful, spiteful hag like her.” 

Sirius grew more agitated with every passing word. Remus could see his knuckles growing white as he gripped the quaffle fiercely into himself.

“And the really fucked up part is that they clearly love Reg more. And I get it, right? I can see why they love him so much because he kisses their arses. I know he loves me and all, but he cares more about what they think than about supporting me. That’s the worst fucking part.” 

Sirius brought his hand to his face under the pretense of scratching his nose, but Remus knew that he was wiping a tear on the cuff of his shirt. 

“I just can’t get them out of my head,” he sighed, “stupid, useless, blood traitor. Unworthy of love. And all the rest. It’s like there’s a record in my head that plays over and over again, and I can’t turn it off. It’s hell.” 

Remus felt completely frozen. He had absolutely no idea what to say to any of this. All the responses that ran through his head felt tired and unhelpful. Sirius did not need someone to lie to him and tell him that his parents really cared for him, deep down. He didn’t need someone to tell him that it would all be alright in the end, that everything would work itself out.

The only thing he could think to say tumbled from his lips before he could stop himself. 

“Well, I love you no matter what your head tells you.” 

Sirius’ head snapped up. He looked Remus in the eye for the first time since he entered the room. A beat passed between them, a moment that allowed Remus to realize what he’d just said. He felt his cheeks burn with panic. 

“We! We love you, me and James and...and Peter,” Remus finished weakly. Excellent. There was nothing unreasonable about expressing the familial love shared between four boys who were like brothers, right? 

Sirius blinked at him, then nodded slowly. He looked as if he were trying to solve a particularly complicated arithmancy equation in his head. “Right. Thanks, Moony.” 

Remus let out a breath. He started to back up towards the door to the dormitory. “Well, I’ll leave you alone again. Or, I dunno, do you want to come downstairs? Pete’s about ready to blow James’ head off if he wins at Exploding Snap again.” 

Sirius still looked preoccupied as he eyed Remus. Finally, he lifted his gaze back up to the underside of his four-poster. 

“Nah,” he grunted as he threw the quaffle into the air again, “you go. I’m not in the mood.” 

Remus nodded, then turned to leave. Just before he could shut the door behind him, Sirius called, “Moony?” 

Remus nearly tripped over himself as he hurried back through the door. “Yeah, Pads?” 

Sirius grinned his lopsided grin. The one that made Remus’ head go fuzzy. “Thanks again. I love you too.”  

Remus smiled back, then closed the door. He hardly noticed the way he pounded down the cold stone steps back into the common room, as he was too busy walking on air.

#nina writes #wolfstar #remus/sirius #remus lupin #harry potter #i wasn't totally satisfied with how this turned out #but i'm trying not to let that stop me from posting #sometimes i'll post fics that I'm not too confident about only to find that people absolutely love them #and sometimes i post fics that i'm crazy proud of that don't get much traction #it's all good practice!

[pavys-originals]

Fandoms I will be writing for + the original characters within

Including a brief summary of each. 

Birds of Prey Valerie Steward - Crime boss, rival of Roman Sionis, has Renfield Syndrome, usually likes the most expensive and lush possessions. Has very large circles beneath her (In a social/hierarchical sense).  Can be incredibly eccentric, and very passionate.

One/Omni- The first of the Blackcoats, a large group of highly trained marshal-like operatives. Omni himself usually does not get involved in combat, and pays close attention to details. 

Two/Hyinth- The second in the first thirteen/High Council of the Blackcoats. Isn’t quick to rush to violence, though they will do what they must to get things done. 

Three/Cettie- The financial backer of the council. Doesn’t usually get involved with the violent sectors of the organisation, she finds it a waste of time. 

Four/Aven- Pure bodyguard material. That’s it, that’s Aven. Not himbo- he’s to smart and sharp for that- just muscly man who will protect at all costs.

Five/Aretha- Now when I tell you that this woman knows how to kill someone and get away with it, I mean it. She trained to be Valerie’s understudy in a sense, and has perfected her own technique in disposing of people when asked.

Six/Giga- The techie. Honestly, they know so much about random stuff they will RAM it down your throat. They’re also kind of jokey, hence the pun. 

Seven- Seven gave up his name when he was fairly young, and is now one of the most powerful and down-to-earth of the Blackcoat high council, as he is the one who oversees the training regimens.

Eight/Axel- A total wild card of the group. Rarely follows orders, and lashes out with violence fairly frequently. He’s honestly a big softie though. 

Nine/Jerra- Usually the one that gets sent in when they need an undercover job done, or a mole of some description. He’s a phenomenal actor. 

Ten/Rocsas- One of the youngest. He’s very ‘in’ with the word on the streets of Gotham,and often informs the council of riots/coups that are being planned by the gangs of the city of crime.  

Eleven/Ixi- Iris/Thirteen’s twin. They are very detached, and don’t often show emotion in the work place. It is suspected that they show lots of affection in a domestic setting though. 

Twelve/Brutus- As his name suggests, he is the strongest of the group, naturally born this way and has honed his skills in since starting training. He is very protective, and follows orders. Not always the brightest spark though, but occasionally he will get a good idea. 

Thirteen/Iris- Sometimes referred to as the ‘softest’ of the High Council, as she is much more compassionate than the majority of her peers. She doesn’t mind it all that much, and often interjects in debates with the more emotional side of the story. 

Twenty-Six/Kalmiya- Almost an entirely blank slate, she is seen as the perfect soldier. Little room for emotions, much room for logic. However, she does seem to learn social cues and expressions very quickly off of other people. 

CATS  A note- about the cats ocs; Just because they are stated to have mated with another Tom/Queen does not mean I won’t write for them. If I write for the children, the bond between parents is not usually mentioned.  

Ariadne-A witch’s cat. She is quite mysterious, but once she warms up to you she’ll adore you like there’s no tomorrow. She is able to teleport over a short distance, has slight telepathy, and sometimes has visions of the future. 

Graciette- The pub cat. Daughter of Skimbleshanks and Jennyanydots, younger sister to the mischievous twins Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer, and older sister to the young kitten Electra. She is always on  time, and is very enthusiastic about overseeing the games in the pub. 

Leviticus- The oldest triplet, son of Ariande and the Rum Tum Tugger. He is very close with his grandfather, Old Deuteronomy, and very wise. 

Squiggletigs-The middle triplet, second son of Ariande and the Rum Tum Tugger. He is usually found with Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer, he is much more playful than his older brother. He’s like the middle ground between Leviticus and Pixietrick.

Pixietrick- The youngest child of Ariande and the Rum Tum Tugger, and their only daughter. She’s very much like her father, both in appearance and in personality. 

Fantasma- The inventor’s cat, and daughter of Graciette and Alonzo. A lot of her time in the junkyard is spent finding random little trinkets and other doo-dads to use for her inventions, or just random collections she has. She’s very shy, and very sweet. 

Zilke- The blind cat, mother of Quaxo/Mistoffelees and Victoria. She tried to stick by Macavity when he was kicked from the tribe, her love blinding her to the near regicide that was committed. Eventually, she became actually blind. 

Seattine- One of the two pirate cats, rumoured to be descendants of Growltiger himself. They rarely come ashore, but when they do, they play many a shanty for old Gus. Seattine favours the concertina as her instrument, and is usually very upbeat.

Hurdeon- One of the two pirate cats, rumoured to be descendants of Growltiger himself. They rarely come ashore, but when they do, they play many a shanty for old Gus. Hurdeon favours the hurdy gurdy, and is a lot calmer than his twin sister. 

Doctor Sleep  Elva Warren- The owner of a sweet little antique shop in New Hampshire. She is always welcoming to new faces, and she knows just what cheers them up when she meets them, what to say to make them smile, all because of her Shine. 

IANOWT  Marilyn Higgins - An uncool kid like Stan and Sid, though a lot of people consider her to be less cool then them. Mostly because of all the morbid facts she spouts, especially during Science class. Probably also doesn’t help that she knows a fair few ways that the world could end that make some people uneasy.

IT  Melissa Farley- A British exchange student from a small village in Norfolk. She is very kind to those around her, even willing to take them in and introduce them to her family’s traditions and interests. She has even offered to tutor some of the Losers, should they ever need it.  Tiffany Crandall- A farming gal from Ludlow, Maine. She moved to Derry with her grandmother and grandfather after her parents were hit by a speeding Orinco truck. She is neughbour’s with Mike Hanlon, and has very little fear when it comes to brawls. It’s traffic and roads she doesn’t like. 

Moulin Rouge  Celine Bisset- A dancer in the Moulin Rouge. She is usually quite gentle, unless her client asks for her to be rougher and more assertive. She ended up becoming a dancer there because her fiance left her stranded when he ran off with another woman. 

Overwatch Asteria Murphy- After surviving an omnic siege where Blackwatch was sent to free the inhabitants of an apartment block, Asteria joined Overwatch to try and make sure nothing like that happened again. 

Mars Virgil- Son of Asteria Murphy, and Jesse McCree. Grew up in Deadlock Grange with his mother, and Robert Virgil- the man he assumed was his father. He joined Overwatch after  an attack on his mother’s diner, and found out his true family soon after.

Resident Evil Village Ihrin Moreau- Sister of Salvatore Moreau. Unlike her brother, her experience with the Cadou did not mutate her into a fish at first glance. It is when she comes into contact with water that her first stage mutation reveals itself, and her true mutated form shows when she is critically injured. She is vain and practically unfeeling unless something catches her eye.

Aeolus Aetos- Self proclaimed “Lord of the Wing”. Aeolus is a man who’s mutation made him think so highly of himself that he only concerns himself with his own problems. He is vain, and keeps himself the most pristine he can. Being mutated to appear part eagle gives him both his pride and his expert hunting skills

Mori Russell- One of the village hunters, who survived the lycan attacks by fleeing into the forests, and hiding out of sight. 

Lena Vaughn- Daughter of the local brewer. Also survived the lycan attacks, but because of her skill with a shotgun rather than running away. 

Shallow Grave Deirdre Sullivan- A failing artist who moved from her family home in Ireland to chase her dreams. She’s partway there, she’s just lacking in the money.Money that she has a hand in keeping away from David. 

Star Wars  Alaana Rohiikshuul- A Jedi consular/seer. She is very down to earth, and tries her best to have the mysteries of the Force reveal themselves to her so that she may write of them. It is this constant search for knowledge that has her meditating for days on end, lost in her own thoughts. Alessandro  Rohiikshuul - Alaana’s twin brother, and the slightly more impulsive of the two. This is not to say he is outwardly violent. Like Alaana, he makes sure to exhaust all other options beforehand. He is much more openly passionate.  Othkiir Rohiikshuul- A young, feline force sensitive from Alaana and Alessandro’s home planet, Tmryn. He can be a little all over the place sometimes, but he tries to do everything he  can for the greater good. 

Daesha’Tiatkin- A Twi’lek force sensitive who deserted the Jedi Order in her late teens- opting to live a scoundrel’s life. She does what betters her, and usually her alone, though you should not mistake this for having no moral compass. She is impulsive, and almost always optimistic. 

Kyden Kenobi- Son of Sith!Obi-Wan and Sith!Alaana. Captain/Commander of the Night Witches squadron in the Empire’s fleet. Usually incredibly goofy and sweet. 

Trainspotting Ava Byrne- (First film)- A philosophy student who got stuck in Edinburgh when she left her home. She got stuck in the same apartment building as Renton and the other boys, but refuses to divulge in their illegal activities.  (Second film)- Ava didn’t end up leaving Edinburgh, the best thing she managed to do was write “The Ethics of Drug Use”, which was of course inspired by the boys’ old lives. She hasn't properly seen the boys since Mark left, though she will occasionally pass Simon or Daniel in the street, and give them a semi-respectful nod.

Misc  (Special Ingredients- my original story in the works) Tex Hudson-  The eldest brother of the trio of brothers, and he was the one to change his name when he got married the first time, as if it would help him in his family’s “business”. He has quite a temper, and is usually rather gruff. There are occasions where he can be sweet, they’re just growing exceedingly rare. Sloane Sawyer- The middle brother, and arguably the most elegant of the three. Always in a suit, he acts like the perfect gentleman in front of others, however when there’s no one else around, he tends to gloat about how many kills he has under his belt.  James ‘JJ’ Sawyer- The youngest brother, but also the tallest. Standing at a whopping six foot nine, Jamie may seem like a beast of a man, but he actually quite gentle. He’s a little slower than the others when it comes to figuring some things out, but he doesn’t let that slow him down anywhere else. He is incredibly sweet, quite passionate, and not afraid to show his vulnerable side when his brother’s aren’t around. 

Victoria/Victor Farley- A pirate captain who sails within the Devil’s Ring (more on that in their first piece), and acts however they so please within the pirate code. Born as Victoria Farley on mainland England, they followed their father through to the centre of the Devil’s Ring- becoming one of his crew in the process. From there they fought on and on, till they became a ship’s captain themselves. 

Scenarios/genres I will write -Fluff -Angst -Smut* -Horror -A combination of those stated above *This will only be written when I am in the mood. Bear in mind these may take longer than usual because I have to be in the correct mindset. I will edit this when necessary

Character Q&A is currently open! 

I will include trigger warnings and such at the beginning of each Oneshot/imagine/headcanon list.

#oc x reader #x reader oneshot #x reader requests #requests open #please request

[onedirectionfiveseconds]

Watching camp rock with my flatmate and one of his best mates and the reviews are as follows:

Auto tune 100

Yikes at everything Uncle Brown does

This is me apparently also sounds like the greatest showman

Disgust at Shane Greys lack of manners

Even MORE disgust at Shane greys dance moves

“DID THEY DEFACE THOSE TRUMPETS AS TAPS” “That’s kinda edgy?”

Tess is apparently not very cool

*during too cool* “it’s like a cult”

“I hate it when I have to be uncool” “so always”

Caitlin is their favourite character

Brown really needs to chill the fuck out

The hasta la vista crew need to chill the fuck out

Tess is definitely not cool and not quite as good as the hasta la vista crew

No sympathy for Tess and her bad fake crying

Margret is slightly better

“They’ve got a MONTAGE”

“Of course Tess has to do a full 180 of her personality at the last minute”

“What are her dance moves, she looks like she’s desperate for the bathroom”

“Bit rude for Shane to just jump in her song”

Last thoughts

- “terrible”

- “much better than the greatest showman”

#camp rock #jonas brothers #demi lovato

[makeitquietly]

Click for the whole article; I’m going to concentrate on this bit:

“Chaplin was slightly older than Laurel and we know that Stan adored him and talked about being his understudy. But in his detailed autobiography, Chaplin never mentions him by name,” says Hunter.

The American tour made a mark on both men and shaped their careers. “Stan became homesick and left and Chaplin got a telegram asking him to go to California where he became this great movie pioneer. Stan returned later and met his soulmate Oliver Hardy.”

Even the bloody Wikipedia knows that Charlie too made two tours to America, and got his famous telegram (asking him to go to New York) when on the second one, so it shouldn’t really be all that hard to check/remember, although this writer/director isn’t the only one mysteriously forgetful. I guess they think it’s too complicated or less cool to have to do two tours before being summoned by film folk.

I suppose it doesn’t then matter that Stan is seen as uncool enough to have to go home because of homesickness? In all fairness, depending on what reminiscences by Stan you’re reading, the reason for his and Arthur Dandoe’s quitting the first tour is either not being happy with the money they got or being homesick. Not that I buy either explanation. And not going to speculate on why they might have left, but Stan was back for the second tour of course, and Dandoe must have joined it at some point if we're going to believe the special mention he got when it was finally time for Charlie to leave the troupe.

Whether Stan and Babe were soulmates is up to anyone’s opinion but there was no “Stan returned later”. The Karno Company including Stan and Charlie sailed from Southampton in October 1912 to begin both their second American tour. The next time Stan returned home was for a vacation in July 1927. Maybe he was somewhat homesick by then.

The edition I’ve read of Charlie’s autobiography does have a photo with Stan in it and named too, but I’ve no clue if it’s a later addition. In any case, Charlie may be “detailed” but that doesn’t mean he isn’t selective about what he chooses to tell. It’s been a couple of years since I read the book but I seem to recall endless nattering of Marion Davies, for example. (Feel free to correct me/offer opinions on the matter, I don’t mind.) Anyway, I do find it odd that he doesn’t have even a single anecdote about his and Stan’s time as touring mates, which is a bit different sort of thing than just refusing to acknowledge anyone who became famous, like some have suggested might be the reason for not mentioning Stan either.

I’ve whined about it before, and it can’t be helped, but Stan apparently thinking that being Charlie’s understudy was more interesting than telling about the roles he himself actually played at the time is maddening. It wasn’t like he needed to use Charlie’s name for publicity or anything when he was reminiscing, so I guess he just didn’t think much of his own work back then or perhaps thought nobody would be interested in reading about it.

I wouldn’t go as far as “adored” even if I didn’t know about *that* letter. 😁 

#Stan Laurel #Charlie Chaplin #Jerone Marsh-Reid #Amalia Vitale #Nick Haverson #The Strange Tale of Charlie Chaplin and Stan Laurel #2020 #2020s #other #I know they said they weren't aiming at telling what actually happened #and it hardly matters #but Fred Karno himself didn't travel with them to America #that's who Nick Haverson's playing #the stripey fellow in the photo #the reviews say he's the one playing Oliver Hardy too

[eelliescott]

Lifestyle Module. Reading Week- Initial Research

Over the reading week, we were set a research task, the task required us to research 5 brands, and find out the following-

The Brand Ethos- What is the brand about, what do they stand for? Who are they?

Their Inspirations.

Their Product- What do they sell?

Price.

Place- Where they sell?

Promotion- Where do they advertise/promote products? Campaigns?

Customer- Who are they? Age? Job? 

The 5 brands I looked at were Converse, Urban Outfitters, Acne Studios, Dr Martens & We Are Cow. 

Converse Research

Brand Ethos/Identity-      

‘ALWAYS CREATING AND EXPERIMENTING’

Street style classics that can be worn by anyone.  

‘What you wear defines sport, street, and creative culture, and we’ve been redefining it with you all along. When you wear Converse products, you create a culture of authentic street style’ Converse.  

‘What We Do

Converse believes that unleashing the creative spirit can change the world. We strive to make a positive impact in the communities in which we live and work. We empower our community partners to unleash their creative spirit through Music, Art and Skate, with a focus on inspiring and enabling young people to be their true authentic selves. We aim to connect, be useful and be a company that cares.’ Converse.

Inspirations- The youth of today. ‘Converse is empowering today’s daring spirit of youth by celebrating freedom of expression through individuals and their movement(s).’ Converse.

Product-  

‘MADE FOR THE STREET’  CONVERSE.

Best known for footwear & apparel. Their bestsellers are the Classic Chuck Taylors hi & low top. Along with a slightly different variation, Chuck 70’s.  

Converse do limited edition shoes, for example, the ‘Breaking Down Barriers "Celtics" Chuck 70’ which is celebrating the legacy of Chuck Cooper, who was the first African-American player to be drafted on an NBA team. ‘The sneaker pays homage to Cooper, including references to his life, his career, and basketball in the 1950s. It is also the first time another name has ever replaced Chuck Taylor’s on the sneaker’s license plate.’ Converse.

Converse also do collaborations with other high-end designers. Converse x Comme Des Garcons. Converse x Golf le Fleur.

Price- Converse Footwear- Range from £30-£160. (incl. men & women)

Converse Apparel- Range from £16-£180 (women) £15-£160 (men)

Place- Worldwide. Online. Department Stores. Shoe Stores.  

Uk- Online. Majority of their classic styles & some limited editions are stocked in UK shoe stores such as Schuh, Office, Foot asylum, JD sports.

Some limited edition Converse styles are only stocked in a reduced number of stores. For example, Converse X CDG is only stocked on Dover Street Market, End Clothing & Selfridges.

Promotion-  Facebook Advertisements. Twitter. Instagram. Collaborations. Advertisement board (billboards). Working on campaigns with young influential creatives who suit their brand ethos.  

Customer

‘We serve those who play outside the mainstream. Those who are willing to try new things, make bold choices, and shape their world. Bringing a daring spirit to everything we do not only influences the culture, it can change the conversation. Dreamers, makers, movers and connectors—welcome home’ Converse.  

Although I have seen Converse across all cultures and worn on many different people with different styles.

Urban Outfitters

Brand Ethos/Identity- ‘lifestyle retailer dedicated to inspiring customers through a unique combination of product, creativity and cultural understanding. Founded in 1970 in a small space across the street from the University of Pennsylvania, Urban Outfitters now operates over 200 stores in the United States, Canada and Europe, offering experiential retail environments and a well-curated mix of women’s, men’s, accessories and home product assortments.’ Urban Outfitters.

Inspirations- Youth Culture (music, arts, universities, creatives, artists)

Product- Urban Outfitters has grown into a worldwide retail store. They sell Men & Women apparel (Clothes, Shoes, Accessories) along with a wide range of home & lifestyle products (Furniture, Technology, Books, Gifts)

Price- Women's- Range from £12- £756   Shoes- £35-£230   Accessories-£3-£358 (all categories incl.UO own stock & Brands)

Men's- Range from £17-£320   Accessories £6-£20   Shoes- £18-£195 (all categories incl. UO own stock & Brands)  

Home & Lifestyle- £3-£1099

Place- Retail Stores & Online.

Promotion- Instagram. Facebook Ads. In store promotions (offers, visuals, discounts)

Customer- When personally visiting UO stores I have noticed they have a younger demographic ranging from 15-30. Creatives. College/University Students.  

ACNE STUDIOS

Brand Ethos/Identity-  

‘Acne Studios is a Stockholm-based fashion house with a multidisciplinary approach. Through founder and Creative Director Jonny Johansson’s interest in photography, art, architecture and contemporary culture, an alternative path has been found, turning Acne Studios into a well-respected creator of ready-to-wear, magazines, furniture, books and exhibitions.

The collections are defined by Jonny Johansson’s signature juxtaposing design and attention to detail, with an emphasis on tailoring and an eclectic use of materials and custom-developed fabrics. The collections cover men’s and women’s ready-to-wear, footwear, accessories and denim.’ Acne Studios.

Inspiration-  Architecture, Art, Contemporary Culture, Photography.  

Product- Acne Studios design men's and women's ready-to-wear fashion, footwear, denim, and accessories including handbags, small leather goods, and eyewear.

Acne Studios stages runway fashion shows for its women's Fall/Winter and Spring/Summer collections twice a year.

Price- Women Ready To Wear- £85- £2400 Accessories- £35-£1200

Men Ready To Wear £75-£2000 Accessories- £35-£540

Place- Online at Acnestudios.com. Retail Stores Worldwide in Major Cities. Luxury Department Store Selfridges & Harvey Nichols. Online Luxury Retailer Netaporter.com

Promotion- Runway, Photoshoots, Instagram.

Customer- Young, Creative, Professional. Aged25-30. Men & Women. Wealthy. Creative Jobs (PR, Graphic Designer, Fashion, Photographer)  

WE ARE COW

Brand Ethos/Identity-  

‘We Are Vintage. We Are Sustainable.

We Are Cow.

Cow Vintage is your best bet for finding big brands, one of a kind vintage and handmade rework garments to fill your wardrobe sustainably.

We have stores all over the UK and our website ships worldwide. Stunt on all your mates with clothes you can't get anywhere else.’ We Are Cow.

Inspirations- Throughout the Eras. 60’s, 70’s, 80’s, 90’s.

Product-  We Are Cow stock a range of vintage products from many eras. Accessories, Shoes, Outerwear, Day to Day Wear.  

‘Keep ya style different from everyone else with one of a kind vintage garms, big brands and Cow exclusive reworked pieces.’ We Are Cow.

‘Rework is Cow's answer to upcycling, where our talented UK based team takes salvaged and damaged vintage and turns it into our own signature style pieces to add eco-chic to your wardrobe.’ We Are Cow.

Price- Womens (all)- £12-£210 Mens (all)- £16-£165 Reworked- £15- £45.

Place- Online at Wearecow.com & Vintage Stores Birmingham, Liverpool, Sheffield & Manchester.

Promotion- Instagram. Blog Posts. Flyers. Word of Mouth.

Customer- Young Conscious individuals who want to stand out and buy unique pieces. Students & Young Professionals. 16-30. They have a large customer base due to their ethos.  

DR MARTENS

Brand/Ethos- ‘Dr. Martens’ appeal to people who have their own individual style but share a united spirit – authentic characters who stand for something. People who possess a proud sense of self- expression. People who are different.

On a stylistic level, Dr. Martens’ simple silhouettes allow their wearers to adopt the boots and shoes as part of their own individual and very distinctive style; on a practical level, their famous durability and comfort make them ideal for the unforgiving world of gigs and street fashion; and then finally on an emotional level, they are a badge of attitude and empowerment.’ Dr. Marten

Inspirations- ‘Without music, Dr Martens would have remained a workwear boot. The music of tribes who wear Dr. Martens has become inseparable from the brand itself.’ Dr. Marten

Youth Culture, Sub-Cultures, Working Class, Arts, Music.

Product- Typically popular for their classic 1460 boot. Along with 1461 shoes. They sell a range of leather shoes/boots, along with vegan leather alternatives.

Price- Womens £3-£239 Men's- £3-£239 Kids-£3.50- £90 (All Including Shoes & Accessories)  

Place- Worldwide, Online, Retail Stores, Department Stores, Other Retailers such as Urban Outfitters & Asos.

Promotion- Social Media, Instagram, Facebook Ads.

Customer- ‘The brand’s adoption by a diverse range of tribes, celebrities, musicians and free-thinking individuals – each subverting and twisting the boots and shoes to their own personal needs, attitudes and identity.’ Dr. Marten  

16+, The brand promotes diversity, therefore, attracting a diverse range of customers.

This initial research has allowed me to see which elements are important to consider and have in-depth knowledge about when creating a brand. In order for our brand to be successful we must really understand our customer, what they want from life, where they hang out, their age, otherwise how are we going to relate to them? All of the above brands fully understand their ethos and everything they do communicates it that, from where they sell, how they promote it, how they wear it.  

In addition to this, these brands are often created as a response from something that has happened in the world. For example, Dr Martens was created for the working class. They were born in the era of social change and were a staple shoe for the ‘skin heads’. The original ‘Skinheads’ were formed as making a statement, they were part of the British working class and proud of it, many of whom grew up in government-funded housing, they were seen as ‘uncool’. The skinhead movement started because initially they were fed up of feeling isolated from the ‘hippie movement’ at the time, which was generally associated with the middle class. In addition to this, they were fed up with empty promises from the government. Dr Martens was there go to shoe, it symbolised the working class. 

The Dr Martens boot has lived on many years since the ‘Skinhead’ movement. It is now worn through so many different social cultures & classes, yet even though they are now seen worldwide on celebs or even catwalks, they will always be linked to punk culture. As that was there original stamp, thats how they were born, they were used as a response between social classes and that has lived with them throughout the years. 

Its really interesting to see how the public use fashion as a response as well as the fashion industry responding to world events, social change & new technologies. When creating our brand I will be careful to think about what we are responding to & how we will demonstrate this, as we don't want to be miscommunicating our message.

[behometonight]

what’s ur actual problem w reylo shippers or wtv u call it. I saw like the last 2   Star Wars movies before that and they suckkedd I honestly thought the whole thing was over already centuries ago but anyway, yall like a shit franchise or at least it got a lot shittier in the last years, from what I know the bad dude’s father always thought he could change or some shit and like wow at the end he actually does and somehow the main girl is in love with him? like ok that happens in literally evErY stupid or slightly cool franchise. Just deal with it? And that dude actor just shaming all the fans for enjoying it?? I mean it’s literally your job to take a character and portray it in a certain or a couple certain movies, you are supposed to enjoy doing that and the movies are directed (especially Star Wars) at a specific public who already kinda loves you just off the bat. and instead you just get rlly pissed at a storyline who is not even your storyline and start tweeting abt it and if any fan gets mad at you for that—with every reason to—you get even more pissed? and keep basically bullying them or even if it shouldn't be considered bullying, which it is, you’re being fucking petty and brat All because you were cast In like the biggest franchise ever which we all knew was kinda shit now and yk you never should expect much as an actor you simply dnt know how a trilogy will play out?? Like is he serious? Did anyone ever take their jobs as serious as him? like pls just accept ur money and ur oportunity and if you rlly wanna talk on tt how u thought the storyline is uncool maybe just talk to ur mates abt that? who Even Caaaares what you think like....it’s all so childish. Anyway ya and everyone just reblogging his shit tweets is trying to act like they’re doing it bc they hate they just hate everyOne and everyThing but like pls consider maybe the dude is just not dealing with his life as he should.. anyway got that off my chest

#reylo

[smittenwithsugden]

Jacob: (playing video games with Liv) You're bossing it, I've got no chance.

Liv: Living with these two, you get plenty of practice.

Jacob: My dad's useless. Even Amba can beat him.

Liv: Well, they're good for some things. (looks to Aaron in the kitchen) This isn't awkward, is it? Do you want us to speak up so you don't have to strain your lugholes?

Aaron: You what?

Jacob: We can go for a walk if you want.

Liv: Nah, it's fine, I'll guilt him into a burger later.

Aaron: I heard that.

Liv: Well, stop listening then. You wouldn't be lurking if it was me and Gabby, would you?

Robert: She's right, it is slightly uncool, mate.

Aaron: All right, I get it, I'm being over-protective. You just wait until Seb grows older and starts bringing home girlfriends.

Liv: Or boyfriends.

Aaron: It's not that easy.

Liv: Yeah, you both be old then and even more annoying.

#emmerdale #robron #robron chats #robert sugden dingle #aaron sugden dingle #jacob gallagher #liv flaherty #7th february 2019 #robert #aaron #jacob #liv #writer dawn harrison #original

[eloquentmydear]

"it is slightly uncool, mate"

#emmerdale #robron #robert sugden-dingle #aaron sugden-dingle

[smrwine]

I’m sad that you won’t be continuing to post that one actor au fic you had😭 but I’m excited for any fic you’ll be posting in the future ! :)

Since you’re the sweetest anon I’ve had all day, here’s the whole 17k wip I abandoned.

Turbulence rocked the heavily polished walls of the too posh and too narrow jet. Glowing blue lights illuminated the landing strip outside of the window, as the black of the night drowned out any and all existence below them. Buildings stood only dimly lit from the late hour and not a single soul roamed through the veins of the city. They were flying somewhere above England. Somewhere right outside of London.

Home.

The same soil he grew up digging his fingers in and the rich scent of tea leaves nearly tickling his nose from all the way up in the clouds. Finally, home at last. Comfort and familiarity practically yanking him back down to earth.

“A car will be waiting for you to take you to your final appearance,” Jeff managed to inform through an exhausted, drawn out yawn. Twelve hours across the Atlantic was common in their line of work, yet never ceased to take its toll on the body, “It’s just some nightclub in London. I’ll make sure your shit gets back to your place and meet you out there, okay? Just be sure you're seen and you'll be free to go.”

Harry sighed in response. Rolling his eyes shut and crossing his arms over his Gucci covered chest.

It was quite easy to become irritated with someone he hasn't been separated from in ages. Someone who shoved him out of bed and out of the door, every single morning, for endless hours of promo, and shooting for his next film. Someone who dragged him across multiple continents, threw him to the wolves for their syndicated fabrications, and watched unflinchingly as he stumbled through vague, long winded answers. Someone who pushed him into one last public appearance while his bed was just within reach.

It was frustrating, and easy to place his sour mood on the one person running the show, but Harry understood it was all part of the process. Knew he owed Jeff a great debt for catapulting his acting career into the stratosphere. And as the sound of his voice clawed its way under Harry’s skin, he reminded himself of his surroundings. Overly luxurious private jet, stocked to the brim with champagne and a full staff ready and waiting to cater to his needs. Embroidered silk suit designed with his brand and measurements in mind, steamed to a wrinkleless fit, and fingers dripping in diamonds and gold.

He didn't have it in him to complain, opting to keep his mouth shut, and roll with all the minor punches that came his way.

His irritation would fade soon enough. Just the thought of being on holiday for months on in, without Jeff, or the ruthless training and stunting for multiple films at a time, had his body blossoming with ease. Acting was all he ever wanted to do. Was willing to die for the art form alone. But when given an opportunity for time off and pure rest, he wasn't going to pass it up.

The seat beneath him shook as the jets tires screeched against the runway. Wouldn't be long now before he could settle. Just a few more hours of mingling, and flashing lights, before Harry had time in his grasp. His eyes flickered open to peek over at Jeff. Thumbs tapping away at his mobile and brows slightly dipped in gloom. Yearning clearly written all over his face. He missed his lover. Was likely letting her know he landed and would arrive home late.

It often slipped Harry’s mind that everyone around him had lives and relationships of their own. All of them were so invested in advancing his career, there was hardly ever time to delve into the details of their personal lives. Harry also sort of forgot what it was like to have someone awaiting his arrival back home. Granted, his mum consistently counted down the days each time he was away, but couldn't recall what it was like having someone significant to sleepily tiptoe down his staircase and welcome him home with open arms. Someone to tug at his heartstrings and kiss him gently on the lips. Fill the empty spaces in his massive house with shimmering light and early morning laughter. Someone for him to miss. His career didn't allow it. Whether he was physically in front of the camera, or not, he was always working, always on the move, and that meant the same for the people surrounding him.

The fact alone formed a guilty lump in the pit of his stomach, and forced his features into a wince. Jeff was a bloody nuisance, but Harry had somewhat of a heart, “You can–um,” he cleared his throat after hours of no use and swallowed down the remorse that lingered there, “You can take the night off, yeah? Go see Glenne, get a head start on your holiday, whatever. I can handle one appearance on my own.”

“Don't be ridiculous—”

“No really,” he sat up and unbuckled himself from the seat, “I'll stay for a few hours and let the paps get their shot. It's nothing I haven't done before,” he shrugged and practically saw the cogs of consideration turning in Jeff’s head, “Besides, I’m sure you're sick of me anyway, and your brooding eyes aren't making it any easier on my conscious.”

Jeff remained silent for a bit. Flipping his mobile against his thigh and not breaking his stare for a moment. Harry sat back coolly in his seat, unmoving, and unblinking, as the jet slowly rolled to a stop. He had him. Could feel permission radiating off the posture of Jeff’s fidgety body.

“Alright, fine,” Jeff resigned as he unbuckled himself from his seat and began to gather his belongings, “But it’s only because I'm sick of you–like you said–” he scrambled to wrap his different cords around his multiple electronics and nearly tripped over himself a dozen times, “I'll uh–I'll need updates—”

“Mate, relax, Glenne isn't going anywhere, yeah?”

“Fuck you.” Jeff mumbled under his breath as Harry let out his first genuine laugh in over twelve hours.

“I don't think I've ever seen you move with such a purpose. I'll be expecting this sort of urgency from now on.”

Jeff shouldered his carryon and paused all frantic movements for a second, “I mean it,” his voice dipped into something more serious as he pointed a finger, “Keep me updated.”

“As if you’d read them, anyway,” Harry stood to his full height, ignoring the stern look on Jeff’s face, and smoothing out the suit against his body, “Y’should probably get going, then.”

“I'll see you when you're ready to start working again. Maybe even before then. Know you can't keep still for too long.” he reached up to pat Harry’s cheek twice before turning away and throwing a wave over his shoulder, “See you, H.”

“See you.”

Harry watched as Jeff shouldered his way off the jet and out onto the brightly lit staircase just outside. He was right. Harry didn't like to keep still. Grew fond of having a busy lifestyle and always having a project to work on. It would be there for him when he was ready, however. Multiple scripts to be read over and dozens of campaigns to be the face of. He would miss it. But for the sake of his health, he needed the time off.

Ahh, shit. Fuck. One last appearance. It was going to be strange to not have someone to guide him through the night. To not hear the nagging tone of Jeff’s voice in his ear every time he so much as turned the corner. It wouldn't be too hard. Shouldn’t be. It was just a routine he'd grown accustomed to.

Just a few more hours, he thought to himself. Just a few more hours until he could rest without a deadline. Without being ripped from his sleep and worked to the bone.

He could do this. He could.

--

I want romance

Harry drunkenly sent off to Jeff as he stumbled up the slick concrete of his front steps. It was too quiet in Oxfordshire. Too chilly for spring and too starless for the countryside. His house was too big, and too secluded, and Harry was too pissed to not feel the effects of isolation. He was so bloody lonely and needed to vent to someone. Jeff asked him for updates anyway, what's one that was slightly more personal than the others?

The tail end of his silk jacket caught in the door as he slammed it behind him. Fucking useless piece of fabric. No purpose for it being so long. Harry slipped his body from the arm holes, not bothering to pull it from the door, and unsteadily began to climb up the stairs one step at a time. Tripping over his clunky boots, catching himself by his ring covered hands, and pushing his way upward. When did his staircase become so bloody high? When did he become so incredibly unbalanced and so regrettably sloshed? Must have been the last few drips of sparkling liquid that did him in. Material practically flew off his body as he tugged, unbuttoned, and unzipped his way down the hallway, and messily fumbled his way into the bedroom.

Okay? I can’t give you that.

Read Jeff's reply. Wanker. Always so insensitive to Harry’s needs. The floor beneath him disappeared as his body flopped down against his bed. Sheets so soft. Mattress practically cuddling him back.

Is everything alright?

Jeff's second reply came just as Harry’s head buried into the pillow.

No. Everything wasn't alright. Champagne remnants lingered on his tired tongue, tasting of sour grapes, and attempts at drowning out loneliness. Empty bedroom around him kaleidoscoping as he tossed between the sheets, legs tangling in fabric, and chest heaving in frustration. Body warm, sticky, and longing, and not a soul to press it up against. Everything was not alright. Everything was spinning and spiraling and the pissed part of his brain had him fully convinced he was going to be ill.

Peachy. xx

Harry sent off as he tossed his phone to the ground. Shit was entirely uncool. Couldn't bare the thought of explaining his heartache when he had it so fucking good. Wouldn't dare let this vulnerable side sliver its way into the public eye let alone someone who worked for him.

Sleep. The coherent part of his brain whispered seductively as the cushion of his bed wrapped it's warmth around him and consumed him wholly. Sleep would be a quick fix. Shutting his eyes and waking up on the right side of the bed in the morning. Hopefully. Time was all he had now and it was thankfully all he'd need.

--

2

It’s nine in the evening, at the end of February. Humidity fogging the glass windows of the building and hazy moonlight reflecting gently against the London rain. Harry’s just sat down for a late meal. Not even hungry, really. Just tired of sitting around his house, answering emails, and falling asleep to the absence of white noise. He hadn’t been out in ages. Only leaving his house to keep his body fit and quickly returning to his reclusive ways. It was only fitting that his first night out was alone, cold, and dreary. Thankfully, he has yet to be approached by anyone other than his waitress. Hat tipped low and gaze pointed downward, he has so far avoided the heated stare of curious eyes.

Red wine settled bitterly on his tongue as he found more interest in swirling the glass around rather than enjoying the food in front of him. Jesus, he hoped nobody has recognized him yet. Who is Harry Styles without a model clinging to his arm, or an elite entourage talking over him, basking in their prominence, and flashing their white teeth for the meddling cameras? Being recognized in a sight this sore would surely put a damper on his cool factor. Not that Harry gave a shit, it’s just, the same couldn’t be said for Jeff and the team that worked tirelessly on his public persona.

“Would you like to take a look at our dessert menu, Mr. Styles?”

Harry cringed at the sound of his surname being spoke into existence. If people around him were wondering, and listening close enough, all of their speculations were clearly confirmed.

“No thank you, darling.” Harry looked up from under his hat, pasting on a closed lipped smile, and charmingly flaunting his dimples, “I do fancy the cheque, however. Whenever you get the chance.”

The apples of her cheeks flamed red as she visibly shivered at his words.

Christ. Jeff really did a number on the general public. Easily convincing them Harry Styles was someone to fawn over and be in awe of. Hell, even he was partially convinced he was something special half of the time. If only everyone knew how great of a hermit he actually was.

“Of course, Mr. Styles. I’ll be just a moment.”

The sharply dressed waitress bowed and went on her way as Harry took one last sip, and swallowed down the burgundy liquid.

A quick flash of blue caught his eye from outside the window. A lovely sight choosing that moment to grace Harry’s eyes with magnificence. Sheer material clinging to a nearly soaked through body, a mess of fringe dripping with rainwater, and delicate hands swiping pesky droplets from his face. Fucking hell. This man was otherworldly. Pretty. Flawless. Stunning. Unparalleled in all terms of beauty. Shivering body finding shelter under the coverage of Harry’s window, bottom lip bitten cherry red, and fingers shakily tugging his mobile from his obscenely tight trousers. Bloody gorgeous and dripping wet, and so incredibly tempting. Harry couldn’t recall the last time he was so easily taken by another man’s looks alone.

For a second, he let himself ponder over what would happen if the man on the other side of the glass would look in and see him. Would he recognize Harry with his infamous bedroom eyes, and distinguishable tattoos hidden away? Would he blush at the sight of Harry admiring every curve and slope of his perfect body? Would he cringe at the contrived person he believed Harry to be? Did he even know who Harry was at all?

“Here you are, Mr. Styles.” A kind voice forcefully ripped Harry from his thoughts. “It was a pleasure serving you this evening. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

Harry’s eyes flickered to hers as she bravely shot him a wink and pushed the bill across the table. A pang of guilt settled heavily in his stomach as she stepped away. He hoped there was nothing he said that insinuated he was even slightly interested in her. He most certainly wasn’t and he didn’t recall making it seem that way. She was probably just being polite, Harry reasoned. Or cheeky.

Blue material caught his eye once more and he slightly turned to peek between the raindrops of the window.

Smile nearly reached those beautiful eyes as a significantly older man pulled him in by the waist, and kissed his temple gently. Unreasonable jealousy coursed through Harry’s veins as the pair cuddled in close, and entered the doors of the establishment.

It took a special type of prick to leave their date alone and waiting in the pouring rain, and this one has yet to offer up his coat, or even attempt to dry his partner off. Bastard. It was already fairly clear to Harry that the dripping lad deserved better. Given the chance, Harry would run over and drape the coat off his back over his shivering shoulders. Maybe even introduce himself and sweet talk his way into a conversation.

But that was just his luck, wasn’t it? First person he’s been instantly attracted to since his acting hiatus started – the one time his schedule would allow for him to get to know another human being – and said human was already spoken for by some undeserving sod.

Sounded about right. Harry was destined for a life of loneliness and film.

A quiet giggle fell from the man’s pretty lips as their host led them in the direction of a secluded table. Not-so-innocent blue eyes flashed towards Harry’s green ones and a spark of arousal ignited through Harry’s body. The man’s neatly curved brows raised in interest as he bit down against a slightly bashful smile, and slowly stepped in the direction of Harry. Possessive hands curled their way around his shapely hips and tugged his younger body alongside the older one. Harry smirked as the older lad’s expression was sourly plastered across his face. The pair knew exactly who Harry was, then. Younger lad was likely a fan judging by the tight grip on his hips alone.

Harry was smug for all but a second, when an unmistakably selfish kiss was stolen right in front of him, and the couple continued on towards the back of the dining room. Goodness, Harry desperately wished that were him. No matter how inflated his ego grew as the other lad blatantly checked him out, he was going home alone tonight, and would wake up alone in the morning.

It stung. Fucking pained him to not know the feeling of mutual devotion.

Acting was the only real commitment Harry knew. And from the time it took him to stand from his table, pay, and push out the door, he decided this hiatus was over. Three months of being stagnant was no longer appealing, he couldn’t go on for a full year of this. If he was going to be lonely anyway, he might as well be surrounded by other people while being so.

--

“I'm ready to get back into it, Jeffrey.” Harry calmly spoke through the phone as he laid his body out against his sofa. There was a niggling feeling in the pit of his stomach that knew Jeff wouldn't take too kindly to the news, or the fact that he called him at nearly three in the morning, so he figured he'd make himself comfortable for the inevitable grilling.

“Harry–” Jeff cut off with a muffled sigh as Harry winced at his exhausted tone, “It’s only been a few months. You were supposed to take the rest of the year off at least—”

“I'm aware of that, but I'm ready to jump back in. Sitting around all day just hasn't been cutting it for me.”

“Well, it's not just about you not working all day, Harry, it's about not over exposing yourself. Not exhausting the public of your projects. You've been off for three months and I still see your face plastered everywhere. Coming back now could be potentially damaging.”

Harry rolled his eyes shut and threw his head back against the cushion. Of course Jeff had to put it in simple terms, making the issue too easy to understand, and sounding every bit as professional as he dumbed down the magnitude of what Harry coming back could do to his career. He was right, and Harry knew that, but that didn't mean he had to like it, or agree to it.

“I just want something to work on. It doesn't have to be a massive role or campaign. I'm just tired of doing nothing.”

“That's the point of your hiatus, Harry.” Jeff spoke stern yet soft, “You're supposed to be doing nothing. You should be half way across the world by now, on some beach somewhere, soaking up the sun. This is about you as well, and your physical and mental health. We talked about exhausting yourself and how you should use this opportunity to relax, and do all the things you don't normally have the time to do.”

Fucking hell. He hated feeling like he was being spoken to like a child. Hated that Jeff was always so fucking right no matter which way he spun it. God. Harry should have just went off and started a project on his own. He would have happily dealt with the consequences versus being told time off is the better choice for him. He couldn't help that he was stubborn and loved what he did.

“Go visit your family, see your childhood friends, get involved with your local charities, but seriously, H—give it until at least summertime.”

Harry perked up at the sound of his words, “Summer time, you say? So – what – only three months from now, and I can get involved in something?”

“I'll make you a deal,” Jeff paused to consider his words and Harry sat up a bit straighter at the proposition, “If you can sit still for the next six weeks, I'll send over all the scripts I've collected for your comeback. You can read over them all, take as long as you need, choose whichever role you want to jump into, whatever. But you have to promise me relaxation until summer, in return. Sleep late and lounge in the sand, or your bed, wherever, I don't give a shit. Pick up a new hobby—whatever you have to do. Just don’t call me about work for another six weeks unless you're coming to visit Glenne or me. Sound fair?”

Fuck. It was tempting, yes. Jeff knew waving around the promise of brand new scripts would sway Harry a certain way. But summer was seemingly so far from now. Frost still lightly dusted the tips of his garden every morning. What was he supposed to do until the beaming sun melted all of that away? Harry supposed he could bother his trainer for some time. Maybe take up boxing lessons like he's always wanted to. See his Mum. Visit his sister in America. Something. Anything. Just get out of the house for once to speed up the process. He didn't have much of a choice anyway.

“You there?” Jeff spoke through the extended silence.

“Yeah, I'm here,” Harry sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, “Throw in some Oscar worthy roles and I'll make it seven weeks of silence.” he added sarcastically

“Shut up, Harry. You know I always have your best interests in mind.”

“I want that validation, Jeffery. I'm only getting older.”

Harry choked down a laugh as he could practically picture the exaggerated roll of Jeff's eyes. It was always humorous to play into the image that was carefully constructed for him. Vanity and fame meant nothing to Harry, but for some reason, the opposite illusion worked for the headlines, and his brand, and the public didn't really think anything of it. As long as Harry and those close to him knew who he truly was, he didn't mind dabbling in the persona every once and awhile.

“You're a pain in the ass,” Jeff snipped, American tone bleeding through the line, “But you've got yourself a deal. Seven weeks.”

“Alright, sounds good. Don't miss the sound of my voice too—”

The line went dead before Harry could get his last word out. Prick. He'd have to get him back for that later.

As the clock wound down closer to morning than midnight, Harry figured he should drag his body up the stairs, and into his bed. Oxfordshire was quiet this evening and he honestly wouldn't expect it to be any other way.

Seven more weeks of staying still. He could do this.

--

3

Summer beams warmed the ever growing back garden of Harry’s estate. Pool side looking every bit as tempting as the brunch gone cold in front of him, but three heavy stacks of printed dialogue kept him rooted to his seat. Jeff was meant to meet him here to discuss his future roles and which would be wisest for the longevity of his career. He was late, however. By nearly half an hour. Doubt was beginning to nip at Harry’s heels. Nerves and uncertainty tugging ruthlessly at the back of his mind.

Harry narrowed down dozens of choices to three.

All action packed. All roles where he's able to show off his stunting ability. Characters that do little to show his vulnerability and further convince the public he was as cool as he was on screen.

Every last one of these scripts were layered with brilliance. Yet, Harry couldn't help but feel they weren't right for him. Something was off and he couldn't quite reason why.

"I know, I know, I'm a dick!" Jeff exclaimed through winded breath as he clamoured through Harry’s back garden. Both of his hands raised in defense, one clenched to a script, and the other to his mobile. He's only twenty-five minutes late. Harry couldn't imagine what could've kept him so held up.

“You know, if it were me that was half an hour late, I would've never heard the end of it. Probably would've woken up to some publication slandering my punctuality on behalf of you.”

“As long as it's a credible publication.” Jeff made himself comfortable in the seat in front of Harry, plucking a strawberry from a bowl of fruit, and pushing the plates of brunch to the side. “Another meeting had me held up, sorry. Grabbed something on the way. Appreciate the effort though.”

Harry pushed aside the food in front of him as well. Stomach too full of tension for there to be room for anything else.

“S’alright. Should we just get to it, then?” Harry mumbled through bitten lips.

“Sure, what are your options?”

The midday sun warmed the back of Harry’s neck as he struggled through pitching the scripts in front of him. Slight breeze doing its best to soothe Harry’s tongue tied words, and tense shoulders, but ultimately failing in the end. The more he stumbled over himself, the more sweat began to collect at his temples, and every crevice of his body.

Fuck. He was usually so sure of what he wanted. Uncertainty gnawed at the corner of his words making it nearly impossible to articulate why he narrowed his choices down to these three alone. He wished he could get a fucking grip and swallow down whatever type of nervousness was rising to his throat like bile.

Jeff sat mostly wordless. Only speaking up to question Harry at the peak of his reasoning and sit back to watch him fumble once again. Jeff had to know Harry couldn't quite come up with a solid decision on his own. Was watching him drown in his own explanations as if he had something waiting behind his knowing stare. Something Harry’s choices couldn't match.

“Sounds like you've given this a lot of thought.” Jeff bit down a laugh and dodged a grape aimed straight for his head.

“Fuck you.” Harry threw his shoulders back against his seat, letting his skin bake under the balmy sun, and allowing his nerves to dissipate with the summer heat. Such a lovely day spent worrying rather than indulging. “You've yet to offer up any solid options, or advice, what am I paying you for?”

“Here's what you're paying me for.” Jeff slid over the script he'd been clenching to. Not as thick as the others but still held close to his chest like the print itself was scrawled in gold. “I know you're not going to like this but hear me out—”

Ardor, the title read in bold font. A script Harry briefly skimmed over before tossing it to the side.

A son of a farmer, living in the hills of Oxfordshire, disregarding the path set out for him since birth, and trading it in for rehearsals and stage lights. The character lets his life’s passion wholly consume him, leaving his family and relationships behind, and living out his dreams with only a pocket full of change. A hopeful yet devastating role when the main character severs these ties only to be faced with the harsh realities of Hollywood.

Just a bit too close to home for Harry’s taste. If Jeff read past the first few lines alone, he'd know this amount of vulnerability wasn't something Harry was too keen on.

“You and this film need each other.” Jeff leaned over to tap his fingers against the script rapidly. “This is what kept me held back from meeting you on time. This is going to be the turning point in your career, Harry.”

Harry eyed him warily. He's worked alongside Jeff for nearly seven years and has never heard his voice r each such assuredness. There was more to what he was saying, surely, and the knowing look in Jeff’s eyes left Harry curious. He was a bit hesitant to dig for more, seeing as Jeff prefaced everything with Harry not liking it, but his desire for the unknown was too intense, and he was eager to hear more.

“What makes you say that?” he questioned calmly from his sitting position, one leg crossed over the other, and forefinger stroking his prickly chin.

“Low budget film needs a recognizable name, said actor with recognizable name needs a vulnerable, artistic, role to set him apart from not only his contenders, but himself.” Jeff paused to let his words sink in. “Your last four films have had the same explosive storylines, H. It gets boring after a while and you start to lose your credibility as an artist.”

Harry recoiled at his words. Fear of repetition setting his skin aflame, and beads of sweat slowly extinguishing the burn. Jeff’s words stung. But he wasn't wrong.

“This role has depth, and art, and it's heartbreaking, and full of hope, it'll highlight your skills in a way that fighting crime and jumping off burning buildings won’t.”

“Excuse me,” Harry interrupted only slightly appalled. “It took enough bloody skill to jump from a burning building, Jeffery.”

“I know, I know, that's not what I'm saying at all.” Jeff sighed frustratedly as he sat up properly and puffed out his chest, “This role is special, yes. However, it's going to be overlooked like most art films if there's not a proper lead demanding the attention of not only the audience, but the academy. You've worked hard for all the recognition you've received, yeah? I think it's time you've earned yourself a nomination. I know you have the talent to turn this role into something memorable, and the producers over there want you, Harry. It's all we spoke about earlier, they're willing to renegotiate contracts, and start filming within the next two weeks if you agree to it. You have the power here.”

Harry’s stomach knotted in clusters. Weight of decisions and responsibility nearly bringing him to his knees. He didn't feel too powerful in the moment.

Jeff might have been onto something, though. Was making far too much sense to not be right. Harry did need this film and the production needed him. The storyline would shine a spotlight on his talents in new and undiscovered ways, and his name attached to the role alone, would raise interest, and allow the production to profit. All sides would win. Renegotiating contracts would be a pain to everyone involved, but Jeff and his trusted team always had a way with sorting everything out.

Something about this felt right. Felt like this was the next step Harry so desperately needed to take. Bring his career back to its roots and fall in love with the artistry all over again. It's just—. It's been so long since he's played a character so...normal.

“I know you're unsure about this but let me remind you how expected the other three roles are. Even you saw them coming and you couldn't even sell them to yourself.”

Fuck Jeff. He was a right prick, but right nonetheless.

“So—” Harry paused to chew against the inside of his cheek and consider his next questions carefully. “If I agree to this right now, we’ll be able to get things moving pretty quickly, yeah? I can come out of hiding and get back to work?”

“It'll take some convincing and a few favours, but yes. Absolutely.”

Jeff stared back at him unflinchingly and full of confidence. Never has he steered Harry wrong or led him to believe something was good for him when it wasn't. Jeff had all the strings in the industry to pull and he could definitely make this happen for him. The decision was practically as clear as the day above him.

“Give me a full day to get into character and I'll let you know by morning.”

“Great, I've already put us on the next flight to LA.”

“You what?!” Harry jerked forward in his seat as Jeff fiddled with his mobile.

“What? Twelve or so hours is enough time to feel out the character right?” he smirked without taking his eyes off the screen. “Most of the filming will be done just up the road, but deals have to be made in LA. You know this.”

Harry rolled his eyes and grabbed for the script. “I know you're a pain in my arse that's for sure.”

Jeff ignored him in favour of typing away at his mobile. Harry stood from the table and walked through his garden on bare feet, sun warming the earth below him. Finally. After months of moping around and lusting for his rightful place in front of a camera, it was finally happening. And so quickly. The script weighed heavy in his hands as the summer breeze flicked through the pages with interest. Small smile creeping up on him as his eyes caught glimpses of dialogue.

“Don’t wander off,” Jeff yelled from his spot at the table. “We have about two hours ‘til we need to leave!”

Harry threw a vague vulgar gesture over his shoulder and continued on his path through the garden.

This felt right. He finally felt sure. As if there was  something special waiting on the other end of this role. Harry couldn't quite shake the adrenalized tremble in his bones, and quite frankly, he had no desire to.

--

4

Even when silent from slumber, London welcomed Harry with pink skies, and the feeling of optimism. High-rise buildings passed in a blur as he carefully sipped at his light roast blend, and let the steam from the caffeinated beverage render his exhaustion. Jeff sat alongside him. Business emails and phone calls already taking priority at the early hour. Fittings for Ardor were scheduled for the day. Dozens of different costumes to be tailored to his body and the first real opportunity to properly introduce this character to himself.

The studio appeared to his right as the vehicle rolled to a stop. Harry stumbled from the car door as gracefully as he could manage and did his best to follow behind Jeff’s ambitious strides. The first floor seemed quiet. Lobby vacant of visitors and a receptionist only offering a polite nod. The elevator ride up was smooth. Dragged on for far longer than expected and led them both into the belly of chaos.

Multiple clothing racks and rolling steamers pushed vehemently across the floor by employees and interns alike. Voices shouting over voices and  sketches tacked against the walls by the dozens. A room stocked the the brim with seemingly unsystematic energy and a thriving sense of proficiency. Harry felt a bit of motion sickness just standing there.

“There's the man with all the power!” a voice broke through the madness and seemed to stop everything in its tracks.

Wandering eyes shifted over to Harry. Some awed, some impressed, some completely indifferent to him as a whole. Awkwardly, he lifted a hand, and let a tight lipped smiled slip onto his face.

“Well don't just stand there darling, we have loads of work to do.” A silver-haired woman surrounded by prestigiously dressed employees, and a child clinging to her leg, broke through the silence again. “That goes for everyone, yeah? Back to work.”

Harry sought out Jeff for answers, but was only met with the back of his head as he moved to greet the woman.

“Lou, it's good to see you again.” Jeff greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. “Harry this is Lou Teasdale, costume designer. Lou, this is my client, Harry Styles.”

Harry slightly bowed before taking her hand and shaking firmly. Her grip was loose. Something that immediately rubbed Harry the wrong way.

“So you're the lad responsible for all the madness?” she said with a smile, yet her words had a bit of a bite to them. Harry had no idea what she was on about either.

Best to just roll with it then.

“That would be me.” he easily flashed his dimples and subtly bat his lashes. “It's a pleasure meeting you, Lou. I'm looking forward to working with you.”

She eyed him for a moment. Arms crossed over her chest and and mouth pursed in consideration. It was a bit nerve wracking. He couldn't help but continue to smile convincingly in the madness around him. He felt the eyes of who he assumed was her daughter staring up at him, big, curious, and full of wonder. He offered up a small wave, which sent the child running behind her legs. Oops.

“At least he’s charming.” She hitched the girl up on her hip and grabbed him by the arm. “Come along, then.”

Lou began to walk him, and her entourage, towards a room in the back. Harry desperately looked over his shoulder. Pleading eyes meeting Jeff’s and Jeff’s offering up absolutely no emotion. Harry couldn't help but wonder if he was the only one that noticed everyone was a bit cold. Not rude, per se. Just not warming up to him as quickly as he's used to.

“Louis, babe, your assistance is needed.”

Harry turned to look into the room. Sight instantly drawn to a man sat by himself near the window. Nose submerged in a book and pencil sketching designs in the margin. His brown hair disheveled without messy product and sleepless circles thinly bruising beneath his eyes. He was lovely. Skin the shade of marmalade and lips appearing just as sweet.

Fuck, Harry was so single.

“If you'll take his measurements and help him dress, yeah? Just pin any adjustments and write down everything else – we’ll get to tailoring later – I just need to speak with his manager for a bit.”

Louis stood from his seat, giving Harry a quick once over, and noticeably flushing at the sight. Harry didn't mean to smirk, but as soon as the corners of his mouth lifted, Louis’ mood seemed to shift.

“Sure, Lou. Should be finished with him soon.”

Lou nodded as she led Jeff out of the room, quietly discussing business, and entourage obediently following behind. Harry stepped passed the doorway, shutting it behind him, and placing himself in the middle of the room. Louis moved with such elegance. Effortlessly making a dance out of pulling clothing racks across the floor. Harry couldn't take his eyes off him even as Louis’ paid him no mind.

Tongue tied even in his brain, Harry struggled to come up with a line worthy enough for introductions.

“This process will go a bit quicker if you undress—” Louis looked up at him with brilliant eyes. He was so gorgeous. “You know, instead of just standing there.”

Harry chuckled under his breath. Lips curling into a smile as Louis flicked to a fresh page in his journal, and unwound a tape measure from his neck.

“Should probably get to know me a bit better, yeah? At least be on a first name basis before you see the goods.”

Louis rolled his eyes with a shake of his head. Clearly irritated and not at all amused with Harry’s flirting. Without a word, he crossed his arms over his chest, impatiently tapping his foot, and waiting for Harry to get on with it. A zing of chills traveled down Harry’s spine as Louis’ relentless stare bored into him.

“M’Harry,” he softly introduced as he unbuttoned his blouse and let it slide off his shoulders. “And you are?”

“Your costume standby.” tape measure circled around Harry’s neck as Louis removed it and penciled in a measurement, “No need to patronize me while we’re here. The sooner we get this done, the better.”

Harry's brows creased as he watched Louis take measurements in the mirror. Jesus. What was in the air today? Seemed like everyone had a chip on their shoulder.

“I wasn't patronizing you.” he spoke earnestly ”Just wanted your name is all.”

“Lift.” Louis instructed. Harry raised his arms slightly, allowing Louis to wrap the tape up around his chest, and back down to his waist. He moved with such precision and attentiveness. Scribbling in measurements and working around Harry’s body with ease. It took everything within Harry not to shiver at his touch. “Remove your trousers for me, please.”

Harry watched as Louis grabbed his blouse from the floor, and hung it carefully on a separate rack. So delicate with everything. Even in the way he handled clothing. Harry was quite possibly smitten.

He slipped out of his boots and took his trousers along with him. Louis quickly grabbing for both and storing them away properly.

“So if you're my costume standby, that means we’ll be working together daily, yes?” Harry questioned as Louis squat to the ground in front of him.

“Correct.” Louis replied dryly. Hands moving to Harry's thighs and tape wrapping snugly around them.

Harry averted his vision to the ceiling. It had been far too long since he had a pretty boy on his knees for him, especially one this pretty. The visuals were stunning, but now was clearly not the appropriate time.

“We should probably try to get along then, yeah? Should at least be able to address each other by name? Maybe even become mates, or summat?”

“I have enough mates as I'm sure you do too.”

“I'm quite lonely, actually.” Harry admitted as he looked down to find Louis measuring his inseam. Christ. “I could–I could use a friend, you know? Someone who's nice. You seem nice enough. But I'll need your name to be friends, yeah? I think it’s only fair—”

“Are you normally this chatty during fittings?” his voice was humorless and his eyes were focused on the journal in front of him.

“No, not normally.” Harry smiled as Louis rose to his full height and gave him a second of his attention. “You're just special, I guess.”

Louis’ face twisted in discomfort as he shut his book of measurements and grabbed for the costume closest to him. Harry was fighting a losing battle and he knew it. He just couldn't help himself.

“Are you not charmed?” Harry asked with a slight quirk of the lips.

Louis wordlessly began to dress his upper body, carefully buttoning up a crisp collared shirt, and rubbing out the wrinkles across his shoulders. The material fit nicely and having Louis’ delicate hands feeling out the fabric had him nearly trembling.

“Not everyone is going to fall for the Harry Styles charm.” Louis replied dryly. Not even looking up to address him.

“I've noticed,” Harry followed Louis’ movements in the mirror as he went to select a pair of trousers from the rack. “No one here has taken a liking to me it seems.”

“Hm, I can't imagine why.” his words were laced with sarcasm and scoff. “Will you step into these trousers for me, please?”

Harry took the clothing from Louis’ hold with pinched brows, “What aren't you telling me, Louis?”

Mmm. His name felt good against Harry’s lips.

“How d’you know my name?” Louis bit with equally pinched brows.

“Answer my question first.”

“Don't be a child! Tell me how you know my name.”

“Lou addressed you when we walked in here together.” he raised his hands in defense. “I paid attention because you're gorgeous.”

Louis eyed him. Disgust clear in his stare.

“You might want to cut that out, yeah? Only does more damage around here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Attempting to charm the people beneath you as you use them as a stepping stool.”

Louis reached for the trousers in Harry’s hold, assumedly to dress Harry through the awkwardness, but Harry resisted, and looked louis in the eye.

“What do you mean by that? I've done nothing to use anyone as a stepping—”

“Nothing? You think you've done nothing?” Louis placed his hands on his hips with a look of disbelief. “Nothing at all?”

“No, I haven't.” Harry defended only slightly peeved. “I've been holed up for months. I didn't even know you existed before today.”

“Well, at least you've got that part right, darling.” Louis smiled a cunning smile, but it was breathtaking nonetheless. “You didn't know I, or any of us, existed, and surely you had no idea of our plans and ideas for the costumes in this film.”

“I can't be at fault for that—”

“No, of course not. We both agree on that.” Louis stepped up to him slowly. Leaving their bodies only a breath apart, and winding his measuring tape back around Harry’s hips. “Tell me what you think happens when production gets rolling weeks before scheduled?”

Harry swallowed thickly as he followed the movement of Louis’ tongue licking his lips. It was hard to come up with cohesive thoughts when Louis was clearly setting him up for a grilling, but continued to press their bodies together.

“Um–madness, I would assume. Sort of like what I walked in on this morning.”

“Mhmm.” Louis looked up from under his endless lashes and dragged the measuring up against Harry’s skin. It was fucking maddening. Harry couldn't resist clutching to the fabric of Louis’ hips. “And when someone like me assumes they have weeks to submit their designs to Lou Teasdale, because she's given them an incredible opportunity, and that opportunity is suddenly ripped from beneath them, how do you think that person feels about the man holding the rug?”

“Um, fuck—” Harry went breathless as the front of his pants slightly dragged against Louis’ trousers. It had been far too long since he's had intimacy and Louis seemed to catch onto that rather quickly. Any slight touch to Harry’s cock was bound to get him off. “I would–I would imagine there would be some resentment, yeah? Some–fuck–um...bitterness? Wouldn't know, though. Haven't been in that position for years. I would assume by your attitude I'm not too far off.”

“Mhmm. You're a smart one aren't you?” Louis dropped the measuring tape from around Harry’s waist and brought his hands to fit around Harry’s biceps. God, their bodies were so bloody close. “I guess that's why you chose this role in the first place, innit? A smart choice, hm? A low budget role where you get to voice your demands, maybe even snag an Oscar nom, and that skeevy manager of yours makes it all happen with favours, and promises, and your name in the credits. It's smart for you, of course. Your career will flourish, darling.” he gently trailed his fingers up Harry's chest softly rubbing at the skin, and moving to thread his fingers through Harry’s short hair, “But the rest of us are caught under your shoe and sleepless from making this production possible. You'd do best to drop the charming act, when we both know how easily you’d use us again for your own gain.”

Louis gave his scalp a sharp tug, forcing a gasp out of Harry, before he stepped back and shoved his journal into Harry’s chest. He looked hurt and above all angry.

“Well m’sorry for what it looks like, babe. But the producers wanted me just as much as I wanted this role.” he reached out and gently cupped the side of Louis’ face, “You needed me as well, huh? Who else's body would you have designed for had Lou not given you my name?”

“You weren't even considered for the bloody role by then.” he shoved away Harry’s hand with rage, “All of my sketches are of clothing because auditions hadn't even been held yet. Because the role hadn't been handed to you yet. While I was out there trying to make something of myself, you destroyed the one opportunity I earned, because you couldn't go too long without your name in the headlines.”

Harry stood mildly shocked. No one has ever spoken to him this way. With such vivid disdain and devastatingly betrayed eyes. Harry felt a pang of guilt in his chest. Everyone always immediately adored Harry. Loved working with him and always greeted him with a smile on their face. Going from that to this was not a transition he'd like to get used to.

“Louis–I'm–Had I known you were—”

“S’too late for that now, Harry. We both know nothing can be undone.”

Louis smoothed out the wrinkles of his clothing as he draped his measuring tape over Harry’s shoulders, and moved to walk out of the room.

“Wait–where are you going?” Harry was stood in a button up and pants, clutching to only Louis’ journal, and praying his slightly hard cock wasn't visible. Totally inappropriate. Now more than ever.

“I'll be back to stroke your ego soon, don't worry, Hollywood.” he smirked as his dainty fingers curled around the door knob. “Just need a bit more coffee to get myself through it.”

Fuck. He was gorgeous even when he was leaving Harry half hard and remorseful. His cock had seemingly never known arousal before Louis entered his life.

The door slammed behind him as Louis exited the room.

Fuck. It was all quite strange. Louis easily ripped him to shreds yet Harry was still weirdly turned on. And Louis did it all to him with a radiant smile on his face.

Jesus, Harry would love to figure him out.

Guilt and shame pricked at Harry’s skin as Louis’ journal weighed heavy in his hands. He flicked through the pages carefully. Most sketches were left incomplete, but others were finished, and brilliant. His vision for this film and this character was so clear in the strokes of his pen alone. He was obviously talented and Harry could tell this opportunity meant the world to him. It must have been painful for Louis to dress him in costumes that weren't his own, knowing they could have been.

“Fuck.” Harry mumbled under his breath as he discreetly adjusted himself.

It was quite a shitty feeling. Harry didn’t intend to use anyone as his stepping stool, but there was absolutely no denying what he did. Or what it looked like he did. Harry clutched the journal shut and glanced up at his reflection. Ugh. What a poor sight. Guilt didn't look good on him at all.

Louis didn't seem like the type to forgive easily. But that was no matter. Harry always fancied himself a challenge, and he wouldn't stop until all was well between them.

He could only hope Louis was as willing to give him that chance.

--

5

First few hours on set stretched on as expected. Table read occupied most of the adrenaline induced morning, forcing Harry to jitter and squirm silently in his seat. Buzz underneath his skin ate away at the pit of nerves in his stomach and his stuttering tongue relaxed line by line. He couldn't wait to get in front of a camera and bring Ardor to life.

Costume standby was awaiting his arrival at his trailer and Harry knew that meant Louis. Last week’s dress rehearsals went colourless without his boundless enticement and intoxicating allure. He didn't appear to be anywhere near the table read through either. Harry searched for him in every corner of the set. From the amorphous labyrinth of trailers, to the posh garden of the estate they were filming at, it was hopeless. Not a single body moved as graceful. Not a single smile had Harry weak in the knees. The entirety of the run through left Harry longing for just a glimpse of his perfect face and clever tongue.

It wasn't a secret to Harry, or anyone, that Louis couldn't stand him, but there was still an overwhelming need for Harry to impress him. To convince him he was wrong about Harry Styles and that Harry - himself - was actually someone he could warm up to. And Harry might've had a way to make that possible.

“Harry!” Jeff called from somewhere behind him. Nasally Californian accent even more prominent in the British setting.

Christ. It truly seemed like he couldn't go more than a minute without Jeff hovering over his bloody shoulder. Harry kept his pace. Walking with his head held high and smirking at the sound of Jeff’s labored breaths catching up with him.

“Hey, you dick,” a hand smacked against his back as Jeff caught up to his side. “I've been trying to find you—you hightailed it out of the reading. Everything good?”

Harry shrugged with a lingering smile, “I'm eager to get started, I dunno.”

“Yeah, sure.” he scoffed, “You're eager to see that Louis guy. I have no idea how you land all these roles when you're such a shit actor.”

Harry stopped in his tracks, placing one hand upon his hip, and shielding his eyes with the other. Jeff seemed all too pleased with his previous remark. Shit eating grin plastered across his face.

“Was there something you needed, Jeffery?”

“Oh. Nah, not really.” Jeff shrugged. “Just wanted to wish my favourite client good luck since I'll be off set for a few weeks.”

“I believe the proper phrase is break a leg, but thanks.”

“Break a leg then.” Jeff pat him on the shoulder and began to move away, “I'll check in every now and then. Don't forget about your proposition to Louis, yeah? Took hours of convincing. I worked hard on that one.”

“Don't worry, mate, I haven't, and I was on my way before you so pointlessly interrupted me.” Harry laughed as Jeff responded with a roll of his eyes, and a turn of his heel. Quite sensitive lad. “I’ll see you, Jeff! Thanks for everything!”

Harry was waved off with a middle finger. Oh well. Jeff would be fine eventually. A small smile grew into Harry’s cheeks as he set back off towards his trailer. The thought of seeing Louis crept back into his mind and his stomach churned with a nervousness he hadn't felt in ages.

The sun beamed as the butterflies fluttered aimlessly. Minimal clouds shaded the walkway as a summer breeze gently carried him on towards his destination. Harry felt lighter with each step closer to the boy, and excitement bubbled through his veins at the mere thought of spending time alone with him. It didn't go too well the last time around, but Harry was confident he would be able to sweep Louis off his feet this time.

His wandering came to a halt as he reached the the sleek door of his massive trailer. The other trailers surrounding his seemingly dwarfed in comparison. Not really a good look. Kind of fed into the whole Harry Styles mega star image. With a shake of his head, Harry pulled open the door. Cool air, jasmine, and rose scents hit across his face in a gentle caress. It was actually quite lovely and welcoming. Jeff must have passed along the fresh flowers and scented candles memo.

Harry took a peek around the posh space. Sleek counters and leather sofas. Curtains drawn shut, and drowning out any light in the small living area around him. Not a single sign of Louis. Only proof of anyone being here was the soft glow of the flickering flames.

“Louis?” Harry called out to no answer. “Anyone here?”

Shuffling could be heard from down the hall. Harry stepped in the direction, swallowing down his pesky giddiness, and pushing through the slightly cracked door.

Goodness. Louis sat crouched in a squat position. Golden brown hair sweeping over his gentle eyes, and fingers carefully stitching the end of a trouser leg. His concentration went unscathed as Harry shut the door behind him. Nimble fingers toying with the needle and thread, and bottom lip bitten between his teeth. Even with his brows pinched together, his face remained soft. Harry wanted to reach out and touch.

“Hey, Louis.” Harry spoke slower and more tender than intended. “What’re you doing in my trailer with the curtains drawn and candles lit?”

“It was like that when I arrived.” Louis snipped without looking up. “I didn't want a lawsuit on my hands for touching your things, so I just left it alone.”

“Hmm, is that so? You really think that way of me?” Harry drawled as Louis hummed out a quiet mhmm. “Well, in that case, you have my explicit permission to make yourself at home here. Anything on this trailer is yours to touch, whenever you please.” The including me went implied, but unsaid.

Louis sighed frustratedly as he stood from his crouched position. Harry didn't miss the pink tinge that warmed his cheeks.

“You're an idiot.” Louis shook his head humorlessly. “Let's get you dressed, yeah? We’re already running late.”

“We have at least an hour, babes. No rush.” Harry stepped over towards the sofa, laying his body down against it, and stretching his arms out above his head. “Where have you been, hm? Haven't seen you since fittings. I was beginning to worry.”

“They needed me in tailoring because somebody had to have production rolling early.” Louis pushed his palms into his eyes and scrubbed irritatedly. “I feel like I haven't slept in weeks.”

“There's a bedroom down the hall, love.” Harry offered in a gentle tone. “You can use it anytime you’d like. Might even join you later this afternoon.”

“Absolutely not.” Louis clipped. “No rest for the weary, Harry.”

Oh.

That was a beautiful sound. His name slipping from Louis’ lips for the first time since they met.

Harry would give anything just to hear him say it again.

“You deserve it though.” Harry sat up straight against the sofa. “I’d imagine your hands and neck are cramped and sore. Your eyes have probably been strained for days—”

“I don’t need you to pity me, yeah? Just get up so I can get you dressed.”

“It’s not pity, love,” Harry carefully stood from the sofa. Slowly striding towards Louis and the clothing rack, and gradually unfastening the buttons of his shirt, “I just think - if you're working as hard as you are - you should at least be doing what you love.”

Harry let his silk shirt slip from his shoulders and shivered when Louis snatched it from his body. It wouldn't be the first time he was topless around him, but it was the first time Louis visibly flushed at the sight of his body.

“We don't all have the privilege of being Harry Styles.” he aggressively hung Harry's shirt on the clothing rack, causing a small ruckus in the tiny room. “Opportunities don't just fall into our laps.”

“What if one did, babe? Would you take it?” Harry questioned cryptically as he stepped in closer and leaned an arm up against the rack.

The blues in Louis’ eyes were greener up this close. Harry felt beyond fortunate to have the opportunity to notice this detail.

“What are you on about?” Louis’ tone dropped to nearly a whisper.

“Costume design is your dream, yeah? Tailoring and dressing actors isn't what you want to do forever.” Harry stepped closer and let his eyes easily linger on Louis’. “How do either of those benefit you, hm? Other than being able to ogle me.”

“Ughhh—” Louis rolled his eyes at that last part and crossed his arms in front of him, “Tailoring is a skill, but costume standby pays my uni debt.” Louis shrugged looking more vulnerable than he seemed to like to. Maybe it slipped. Maybe Harry wasn't meant to know and Louis was just too exhausted to filter his words. Either way it was out there now. “Why do you suddenly care anyway? All of my design dreams were shot to hell as soon as you picked up this script.”

“Well, because I can fix that.”

Harry stepped just a bit closer. Leaving only Louis’ crossed arms between them. His stubbornness seemed to visibly waver as he took in the tan skin and light dusting of hair against Harry’s chest. The look alone did wonders for Harry’s ego.

“What d’you mean?” Louis uncrossed his arms and placed them on his hips, seemingly interested.

“My manager and I convinced Lou to let you come up with a look for me.” Harry smiled deep. Dimple easing its way into his right cheek. “You’ll be limited on time but I wiggled it out of her. Told her I had the pleasure of seeing some of your sketches and she took my word for it.”

Louis stood motionless. Face void of emotion and mood in the room completely unreadable. Before this, Harry assumed Louis would have bounced around with joy. Maybe even would have went as far as to throw his arms around Harry and thank him endlessly. At the very least, he expected Louis to go red in the cheeks with excitement. When that didn't immediately happen, worry began to settle in Harry’s stomach.

“What do you say, Louis? I think this would be a great opportunity for you and—”

“Have you completely lost all sense of right and wrong over there in Hollywood?”

Harry stilled in confusion. “What—”

“Do you really think you're doing me a favour by using your charm to get my designs out there? Do you really think that adds to my credibility as a designer?”

“Connections get you far in this industry, Louis. I've worked hard for many years to build up my brand and image but—”

“And you think I wouldn't want to do the same for myself? You think I want to be known as the person who got their start from a Harry Styles recommendation and not from my work alone?” Louis’ breathing increased with his anger as Harry stood topless and shocked, “I’m willing to pay my dues and work hard for my spot in this industry. That's why Lou Teasdale offered up that opportunity in the first place! She admired my work ethic and I spent hours under her wing for that once in a lifetime chance. I did it on my own and I can do it again without your guilt riddled offer.”

“Louis that's not what I was trying to do I—”

“You were trying to win me over with this weren't you? You knew word would travel fast around set and you wouldn't seem like such a bad guy after all.”

Harry couldn't move. Harry couldn't breathe. He was caught between every last chill rolling down his spine and his heartbeat picking up in speed. Louis was right. Fuck, he was fucking right. Harry knew the favor he pulled for Louis would get around to different crews and different departments. He had hoped it would not only soften Louis towards him, but anyone else who resented him for pushing production to start early. Louis saw right through him. Harry fucked up. Badly. And this was not the way he planned for things to turn out.

“I don't need your hand out, darling, and I humbly decline any future offers to design for Harry Styles.”

“Lou–don’t….don’t—”

“You can get yourself dressed, yeah? M’really not up for this right now.” Louis shouldered his way past a dumbfounded Harry and paused right before the doorway. “You know, it would've been different if it was truly done out of the kindness of your heart. But it wasn't. This was all some sort of mutually beneficial business deal that went wrong. I believe your heart was in the right place when you thought this up, but I'm not your charity case, nor your chance at redemption either, love.”

Harry turned to face him and the hurt in his eyes. Even after something so insulting, Louis seemed to remain level headed and soft spoken. Something that was so rare and uncommon in their line of work.

“Hair and makeup will need you soon. I'll see you again around three.” Without another word Louis turned out the door and went on his way.

Fucking hell.

Guilt and shame washed over Harry like an unforgiving tidal wave and Louis’ words stung in all the soft corners of his brain. If he felt this horrible, he couldn't imagine how sickly Louis must be feeling.

Jesus, he truly felt like he was doing the right thing for both of them. If only he would have thought this through a bit more carefully. Maybe just left it alone all together and let Louis warm up to him on his own.

He felt like a giant prick.

A giant prick that wasted too much of his free time and now needed to be on his way. Louis should be here. Should be the one to dress Harry and pin him in all the right places. But he wasn't. And Harry wasn't sure how he was ever going to earn a spot on his good side.

--

In front of the camera is where Harry thrives.

Well rehearsed lines flow from his mouth effortlessly, charisma exudes brightly from every facial expression, strides and animated movements are carefully planned and well executed. There wasn't a feeling quite like getting into character for the first time. Harry was nervous yet relaxed. Was slightly insecure in front of the new crew yet knew this set was exactly where he was meant to be.

Set lights usually served to drown out the examining eyes and critical whispers, but something about Louis being in the room dulled their intensity, and did little to keep Harry’s eyes from flickering over to his. The first few takes, before Louis showed up, went without a hitch. Harry nailed his lines and even improvised when needed. He knew he gave the production a solid first impression, but as soon as action was called, and Louis caught his eye, Harry began to stumble over his lines, felt himself heat up under the collar of his shirt, and ultimately cocked up his entire performance.

“Alright, let's stop right there for a minute.” James, the director, hollered as Harry flubbed yet another line. “Harry we’re going to come back to this, alright? Can someone fix his wardrobe please? His collar is going to drive me mad.”

The crew seemed to disperse as Louis approached him with a raised brow and an all too attractive smirk on his lips. There was no one else in the room to Harry. No one other than Louis to witness the stutter in his breathing as his delicate hands traveled up his chest.

“You know, for everything we went through to get you into this role, you're sort of doing a shit job in return.” Louis giggled under his breath as he adjusted the collar of Harry’s shirt gently. “Can't say I’m too impressed, Harry.”

Fuck, his smile was so pretty. His spirits seemed to be in a higher place than they were this morning. Frown and lack of warmth for Harry completely replaced by fluttering lashes and a shimmering glow in the apples of his cheeks. He almost seemed...playful. Maybe even a bit cheeky. As if seeing Harry fumble through his performance brought him some weird sense of joy. Harry decided not to question it. Figured it's best to bask and indulge in this newer side of Louis.

“Oh yeah?” Harry questioned as his right dimple carved its way into his cheek. “S’that what it'll take to get me off your shit list? You want me to impress you, babe?”

“M’not so easily amused,” he sneakily ran a hand through the back of Harry’s freshly trimmed hair and scratched lightly against his scalp. Fuck. Was this actually happening? Was anyone around them actually seeing this too? A touchy-feely, softer, Louis? “But you're welcome to try sometime. Show me why this role was given to you and all.”

“Oh, I'll show you something that was given to me.” Harry’s voice dropped low in tone as he further crowded Louis’ space.

“That one wasn't even clever.” Louis tugged on the hairs at the back of his neck, causing Harry to hiss out in pain. “You're far more charming when your mouth is kept shut.”

“Is this your way of flirting with me?” Harry asked through hooded eyes and a twitch of his cock. “Cos I’m kind of into it if I'm honest.”

“You couldn't land me even if I did fancy my colleagues.” Louis’ eyes shined underneath the set lights with mischief and mirth. Harry wanted to press a kiss in the space between them. “You're just easily riled up, and you deserve a bit a ribbing, don't you think? S’only fair after everything you've done to me.”

“I'll take it all on the chin so long as you're on speaking terms with me.”

“God, you're pathetic.”

“And yet, you're still standing here.”

Harry chanced a step forward, and to his surprise, was met with a curl of Louis’ lips. He was unpredictable and fickle, and it only served to draw Harry in further.

“It’s my job,” he spoke through tantalizing pink lips, “Someone has to keep you looking fit.”

“I think I do just fine on my own, sweetheart.” Harry shot a wink and inwardly celebrated at the tinge of Louis’ cheeks. “Wouldn't you agree?”

“Well, besides your head being about as big as your ego—”

Harry cut him off with a pinch of the hip and his lip half bitten. Louis’ laughter was alluring, colourful, and contagious, but Harry didn't want to let his honk of a laugh slip out just yet. He was content to watch Louis squirm, however. It felt nice. Felt something close to comfortable. Such a lovely contrast to the morning they had together.

Speaking of, he should probably apologize for that.

“Hey, um, about this morning—”

“Alright! Back to your positions everyone.” James’ voice cut through every corner of the set, sending everyone scattering back to their places.

Harry didn't have a moment to spare before Louis was tiptoeing his way back behind the cameras. Traces of previous warmth gone from his face and smile lines set back into to a frown. Back to business for him. Back to being colleagues that couldn't bloody stand each other.

Harry shoved a hand through his quiffed hair, and shook himself from his Louis induced daze. But not for long. Rolling! Rolling! was shouted through the madness as Harry locked eyes with his over the cameras and through the shadows of the set lights. The inner performer rumbled from within him and had a sudden urge to be let free. To show Louis just what he was capable of and prove to him that all of his hard work was worthwhile.

It was quite strange how Louis’ presence alone was enough motivation for Harry to put out the best version of himself. Made him want to do better, to be better, without even really knowing Louis at all. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but Harry wouldn't mind getting used to it.

Action!

--

First day on set came to a long, drawn out, yet satisfying wrap. Dusk settled over the rolling hills of Oxfordshire in a gentle wave and the evening sky began to glitter with twinkling lights. The stars were always brighter and more vivid outside of London or LA. Harry lost himself in the not quite visible view of constellations from the window of his trailer. He was putting off stepping into his awaiting town car, and leaving this place, for as long as he possibly could. He didn't fancy heading back to an empty estate when he felt more comfortable right where he was. It shouldn't be that way, should it? After a long day of filming, he should be aching to go home. To be in the one place he's most familiar with.

A muffled voice drew him out of his somber and lonely daydreams—bloody hell. Louis rounded the corner, rid of his entirely black wardrobe from earlier, and slipped into a tight pair of jeans and a cut off white shirt. Tan skin of his tummy and succulent curves fully out on display, and Louis making no effort to hide them. Fuck, his body was gorgeous. The delicate slope of his back, down to the soft outline of his arse, and perfect thighs. Harry wanted to take a bite out of him. Just experience a lingering taste of what he had to offer. Louis’ body was designed to be roughed up and kiss bitten.

Without another thought, Harry hurled himself from the sofa, and stumbled out the door. No speech prepared or practiced lines, he just had an overwhelming need to end the day with Louis.

It also wouldn't hurt to see his marvelously skimpy outfit up close.

“Louis!” Harry yelled out across the lot, bypassing his awaiting car, and jogging in his direction.

Louis paid him no mind. Breeze flicking his fringe angelically and bare hips swaying in time with his steps. The world was his runway and Harry was honored to be front row.

“Lou—hey,”

Any words that may have been waiting against Harry's tongue, were stolen from him just as quickly as the breath in his lungs. Louis had freckles. Little specks dotting his left cheek and one lingering near the corner of his eye. Harry would spend the rest of the evening discovering new, endearing, quirks about this beautiful man if he’d have him.

“You–um–you changed.” Harry mindlessly babbled as Louis shot him a glare. “Your clothes, I mean. You changed your clothes. You look great. Um, quite fit, actually.”

Harry laughed awkwardly as Louis remained silent and kept up his speed. Fuck, if only he'd slow down for a sec. Harry couldn't take his eyes off the flawless skin Louis’ hips. He wanted so badly to reach out and touch, and feel how he was softer than he looked.

“So umm. Where are you headed, love?”

“The shuttle.” Louis answered lowly. Keeping his head down and lightly scratching at the skin beneath his belly button.

“Shuttle? For what?”

“To catch the train back to London.” Louis looked up and met Harry’s heavy gaze. “As much as I'd fancy a chat with you, this is the last shuttle, and I can't miss it. Don't wanna be stuck here all night.”

“Well, let me give you a lift then.” Harry sincerely offered as Louis rolled his eyes. “No seriously, I only live up the road, I can have my driver take you home.”

“Jesus, Harry, I forgive you for this morning. You don't have to treat me any differently than you would anyone else.”

“What?” Harry's brows dipped in bewilderment, “What are you on about? What do you mean treat you any—”

“Look, I've had a really long day, and I have a long train ride ahead of me, I just want to be left alone, yeah?”

“But I only offered a ride, what does that have to do with this morning?”

Louis halted all movements in a dramatic fashion and turned to face a slightly winded Harry.

“You don't know me, Harry. You know nothing about me, or who I am, or where I come from, and yet you won't quit pestering me with your guilt ridden offers. Why is that? Why hasn't anyone else on set received the same treatment?”

Harry was stuck, once again. “Louis—I…”

“What is it that makes you pity me?”

“That's not what I'm doing, Lou. I just—” Harry struggled to put it into words. He knew it looked to be how Louis was interpreting it, but it was not Harry's intention. He just….liked him. Wanted to get to know him. Wanted to be kind and friendly, and hopefully have Louis warm up to him. It didn't  seem to be working, however. Their situation felt more like a juvenile, one sided, crush gone wrong. “I don't know. I just want to show you I'm not as horrible as you think.”

“I don't think you're horrible, Harry.” Louis crossed his arms over his chest, whilst giving Harry a slight once over. “I just don't want to feel like your project.”

“You're not, babe. I just—”

“Then don't treat me like one. I've already made it clear I don't want to be your charity case.” Louis chided as he took a step back and shook his head.

“Louis that's not my intention–”

“M’gonna be late yeah? I'm sure you have an upcoming model waiting at your place, anyway.” Louis left without another word, adjusting his collar up over his shoulder, and jogging his way out of sight.

Jesus. A parting line so cold the both of them would still feel the effects come tomorrow morning.

Harry felt fucking defeated. There was no winning in this situation. No convincing Louis, Harry wasn't the person he clearly thought him to be.

Christ, and it was only the first day on set. How was he meant to get on with Louis for the next several months?

His boots dragged as he buried his face in his hands and made his way towards his town car. Guilt and shame clawed at his conscious and would surely eat away at him for the rest of the evening. The look of hurt on Louis’ face replayed on a loop, and Harry’s twisted desire to know what made Louis so defensive, jabbed at his curiosity. There was a reason Louis was so guarded. So fiercely protective over his reputation and how he wanted to be seen as an equal.

Harry would give anything to know Louis just a bit better. Even if it was clear Louis disliked him and wouldn't give him the time of day, famous or not. He was an attractive mystery. One that had Harry enticed and longing for more. But for now, he needed to mend what little relationship they had between them. And if that meant giving Louis his space, and keeping it professional, so be it.

--

6

The early beams of Oxford’s dawn cast upon his knackered eyes unforgivingly. Clock near his bedside read half an hour past four and unseasonal heat slipped it's way under his bedsheets. A useless night's sleep. Tossing and thrashing about only to lie awake hours before he was due on set.

Harry forcibly stood up from his uncomfortable position in his bed. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and unsteadily clambering his overheated body towards the en suite. A cool shower would do him well. Clean his sweat sheened body and fully wake him up at the early hour. Water sprinkled from the ceiling as he turned the knobs to his preferred settings. Not having to worry about sleeping in clothing, he stepped right under the spray, and shivered as he closed the glass door behind him.

Eyes slipped shut, he let the coolness beat down against his tense shoulders. Rolling his neck side to side and doing his best to keep his thoughts at bay. It was far too early to over think yesterday's events, and far too early to let himself be torn up over it, again, like the night behind him. Instead, he watched as the beads of water trailed aimlessly over his body. Down his torso, over his laurel tattooed hips, and down the length of his legs until they swirled into the black hole of his drain.

Flashes of Louis’ supple skin clouded Harry’s imagination. He couldn't help but wonder how erotic the sight of a dripping wet Louis would be. Streams of water sliding down every curve and dip of his body and his golden skin glistening under the flattering mist. Harry bit his lip harshly as the first twitch of his cock had his adrenaline pumping. It felt sort of strange. Contemplating a wank over a beautiful colleague and nothing more. Not to mention the amount of disdain that was felt on the other side.

Harry figured if he couldn't rid him from his mind, he could at least attempt to fist fuck him out of his system.

Right hand loosely wrapped around his length, Harry conjured up images of Louis’ hips and incredible arse. He sighed at the vision of freshly licked pink lips, and just how sinful they'd look stretched around his cock. Harry did his best to push aside every snarky remark that left that same mouth.

Tightening his grip, Harry picked up his pace and imagined Louis bare and begging. God, what he wouldn't give to have Louis’ legs spread wide for him, and his tight hole out on display. Cheeks of his arse pink and burning from Harry’s hands alone, and flawless thighs prettily bruised by the hunger of Harry's mouth. Fuck, he just wanted to rough him up a bit and bring him back down to earth. Take care of the whimpering boy and have his body trembling from a mind blowing fuck.

The steamy images should have been enough to get Harry off. His imagination revealed his deepest desires he didn't even realize he was into. But guilt overpowered his need for a one sided pitiful orgasm. Harry desperately flicked his wrist against his inevitably softening cock. Thumbing his slit in a haste and scrunching up his features to focus on what was left of the pleasure. It was bloody useless. He was sure he wouldn't be able to get off even if Louis were stood right in front of him.

“Fucking hell.” Harry groaned, clearly irritated as his wrongdoings infiltrated his sensual fantasies.

The only substance swirling down the drain this morning would be sudsy and violet scented. Harry felt fucking pathetic. Couldn't even pull a wank off, let alone have the source of his hard on forgive him. Facing Louis later on was bound to be awkward enough to begin with, now he's gone and made it unknowingly worse for them.

Harry grabbed for his body wash and huffed out one last frustrated breath. Might as well get ready to head to set early. Maybe he could hide away in his trailer and hope that Louis would spare him from a visit today. he laughed humorlessly to himself, he knew he'd never be quite so lucky. But even as he hoped against the inevitable, he couldn't help but let his body tingle in anticipation, and over think just how warm his hello to him would be.

--

Harry ran a hand through his tousled and uncombed hair before pulling open the welcoming door of his trailer. Busy bodies buzzed around the lot without bothering to lift their gaze towards him. It was slightly maddening. Everyone easily breezed past him without so much as a hello or a grumpily mumbled good morning. He couldn't tell if it was because no one could stand to look at him at the early hour, or if they were just genuinely too occupied with their pre-filming duties.

The darkness of his sitting room drew him in. Monogrammed slippers slid off his socked feet and worn t-shirt pulled off and over his shoulders. He would be dressed in a few hours anyway, for now he resigned himself to the awaiting comfort of his trailer's suite. Shivers rolled down his spine as the cool air from the hallway pulled him forward. His door was open ajar, and he didn't think anything of the clothing rack blocking his way. Mind set solely on getting to his bed.

As he wheeled the rack of clothing away from the entrance, Harry forced down a stunned gasp at the sight in front of him. Slept peacefully, with a halo of fringe, and dainty fists tucked under his cheek, Louis breathed evenly, not even twitching awake at the movement in the room.

Harry stood breathless. Not sure if he should make a run for it and risk waking him up, or remain motionless at the foot of the bed and risk Louis waking up to him standing there, topless, like a fucking creep. Goodness. The length of his wispy lashes were visible even in the dim light. Harry nearly missed them fluttering open.

“Harry?” Louis whispered in a sleep heavy voice. “Shit. I'm sorry–I...”

Louis shuffled under the covers, attempting to quickly rid himself from the bed.

“No–no, uh. You can sleep.” Harry put his hands up and backed out of the room. “M’sorry I didn't mean to wake you—I. I'll just. I'll go.”

Harry shoved himself out of the room in a haste. Stumbling backwards and accidentally slamming the door behind him. Fuck. Shit. He couldn't get down the hallway fast enough. What the fuck was Louis doing in his bed? Harry would imagine he'd want to be as far away from him as possible, at all times. Louis clearly wasn't expecting him anytime soon seeing as he laid down and shut his eyes for a sleep. Jesus, did he have to look so ethereal whilst doing so?

“Harry?” Louis’ soft voice came from down the hall as his quiet steps padded closer. Fucking hell, this boy. Dressed in all black and tummy on display, again. Did he own any shirts that were proper length? “Hey, um, sorry about that, s’just I got here around five because of the train schedules, and you weren't supposed to be here for a while, and I'm just so exhausted, I—”

“Hey, no, it's alright. Don't worry about it.” Harry subconsciously placed his hands upon his hips, proudly displaying his body, as he felt Louis’ sleepy eyes wander over his inked skin. It felt nice, “I meant it when I said you could relax in there. Just wasn't expecting you is all. Good morning, by the way.”

“Good morning.”

Louis rubbed gently at his eyes. Soft hair sweeping over his forehead and and pretty lips stretched around a yawn. He was so gorgeous. So soft. Harry had to remind himself that pulling him into his chest, and swaying his slumberous body in his hold, would not end well. Louis couldn't stand him, and Harry made an unspoken promise to respect his boundaries.

“Can I fix you a cuppa, or something? You can go back to bed if you want.”

“No, you're here now, so I'm officially on the clock.” He stretched his limbs up over his head and Harry bit his lip at the amount of skin he was displaying. Even in the limited light he glowed a pretty summer shade. “I'll be back, yeah? Need to wake up a bit and go pick up your trousers for the day.”

“Alright,” Harry whispered only a tad bit smitten. He wasn't used to this barely awake and completely lovely Louis. The morning softened him even more than what Harry thought was possible. He wouldn't mind these run-ins becoming more and more common. “You know where to find me, yeah?”

“I do.” Louis smiled from under his lashes as he stepped forward towards the trailer’s door. Harry wanted to catch him by the wrist and cuddle him back to sleep. “Don't wait up for me, Hollywood.”

Flirting. He was absolutely flirting. Harry held the door open behind him as Louis stepped down into the earliest light of the day, and watched as he purposely swayed his bare hips from side to side. What a lovely fucking view. One Harry thought he'd only ever see in his daydreams.

Harry sighed wistfully as he shut the door and pranced his way down to his suite. There was a bright and invigorating energy in the air that only Louis could leave behind. Sheets left haphazardly straightened, and room fragranced with the sweetness of his scent. Harry draped the fabric over his bare torso and basked in what was left of Louis’ warmth.

He could only hope the morning they shared set the tone for the rest of day. He was more than aware it was a stretch of the imagination, but Harry always did consider himself a dreamer.

--

Dreams be damned, Louis was back to his polished, professional ways. The personification of poise whilst dressing Harry in his costume for the day and tummy covered with appropriate clothing. Gone were the bedroom eyes and bashful smiles, and back were the irritated expressions and focused hands. He wasn't even charmed when Harry greeted him softly from his bed. Practically yanked the duvet away from his sleep warm body and switched on nearly every light in the trailer.

“Turn around.” Louis mumbled from his squatted position as he tugged harshly at the bottom of Harry’s trousers.

“Turn around, please?” Harry suggested as he rolled his eyes and turned for Louis anyway.

His words went unacknowledged as Louis kept his focus on the reference photo beside him. Tucking and lacing Harry’s work boots and trousers exactly how they were designed to fit. It was probably a good thing Louis never paid him attention anyway. As soon as he dropped completely to his knees in front of him, Harry had to crane his neck away. Recurring images from his failed wank clouded his vision and he could feel the heat in his cheeks turning him a deep red. Fuck, he was so embarrassed. What a shameful position to be in.

“Turn.” Louis stood to his full height as Harry shifted his vision to focus on Louis.

“Ask nicely.” he softly demanded.

“Harry, we don't have time for this—”

“Then do as I said.” he challenged with a perfectly arched brow. “A simple please will do.”

Louis indignantly crossed his arms over his chest “No.”

“God, you're such a brat.” Harry ran his hand frustratedly through his quiff. Lack of sleep officially affecting him and his mood. “Aren't you the one who wants to be treated fairly? Shouldn't that be extended to me as well?”

“When have you ever been fair to me?” Louis cocked his head in curiosity. “I must have missed it between you swiping opportunities and attempting to hand them back to me.”

“Jesus, Louis, I didn't mean to do either in a malicious way! I'm sorry I ruined such a brilliant opportunity for you, alright? I had no bloody idea it would turn out like this.” Mood in the room shifted, Harry didn't mean to roar his apology, but it stunned Louis long enough for him to listen. “Had I known I was jeopardizing your career I would have never agreed to this, and had I known that by trying to make it better, I would only make it worse, I would have left that alone as well and just let you believe I'm some sort of self righteous prick. It's what you think either way, yeah?”

“Harry, what? No—”

“You wouldn't be the first, babe. Don't fret.” Harry huffed out a sigh and nervously ran his hand through his hair again. “M’sorry for yelling—M’sorry for all this mess I've caused, and how I've treated you from day one.” Louis looked up at him with a sympathizing expression and his lip slightly bitten. Harry could help but actually reach out this time, and take his sweet face in the palm of his hand. Soft. So incredibly soft. “I'll do my best to stay out of your way, yeah? You'll only have to be bothered with me when needed.”

Louis gripped onto the wrist holding his face wordlessly. Eyes wide and pleading but mouth completely sealed shut. Looked as if something was dancing on the tip of his tongue as he let his gentle thumb stroke against the back of Harry’s hand. It was the sweetest touch. The most pleasant Louis has ever been. Harry wished he would say something. Anything. Whatever it was that he wanted to say right now, but wouldn't. Wished they could stay in this moment for just a bit longer, and let the softness of their touches pull them under, but he knew nothing was owed to him, and he knew just how stubborn Louis could be.

He needed to get out of there.

“I'm sorry.” Harry let out sincerely one last time before dropping his hand and making his way off the trailer.

He wasn't due for hair and makeup for a while, but the long and winding walk up to the set would do best to clear his mind. It was good he got that apology off his chest. It was good that Louis heard him out, and more or less accepted what he had to say. Perhaps they could grow from this, and become colleagues that didn't bicker every moment they’re together. Maybe Louis would finally see Harry for the person he was. Who knew. Only time could tell for now.

--

7

A full week had gone by since Harry and Louis spoke.

Moments between them went awkward and silent ever since Harry promised to keep his distance. Louis dressed him quickly and made a mad dash for the door as soon as he was satisfied with the fit. Like he couldn't get out of Harry's space fast enough. On set wasn't much better. Harry could see him in his peripherals, nervously biting his nails, and watching him with wide intrigued eyes, but as soon as cut was called, and Louis was instructed to tend to him, their lips never moved to speak, and Louis fixed him up with hurried hands.

Downtime was even worse. In between takes Harry seemed to always end up near Louis. His attractive laughter and alluring smile was always just around the corner, waiting and taunting Harry with their endless enchantment. He wanted to approach him. Wanted to ask him about his day and join in on the conversation. Maybe even be the reason for Louis’ crinkly eyes. But Harry was stubborn and a man of his word, and if he ended up alone in his trailer more than a few times over the course of the week, he didn't mind.

“You meet your love interest today.” Jeff snickered from his spot on the sofa.

The sun had just barely crept up over the hills of Oxford as Jeff invaded his trailer. Harry paced the narrow length anxiously, ignoring most of his small talk, and keeping an eye on the window. Louis was usually here by now, setting up his pins and needles, and steaming the clothing to his liking. It was only slightly concerning when Harry walked into an empty dressing room, and had no way of knowing where Louis was. He supposed it was none of his business, anyway. He just couldn't help but wonder.

“I'm not fake dating her so you can leave me out of whatever foolproof plan you're conjuring up in your head.” Harry expressed distractedly as he slightly pulled the curtains back to check for the boy.

Jeff went on in the background. Yapping about how lovely she was and maybe this could lead to something, you never know, you're lonely anyway, Harry. He knew it was meant to coerce him into the business strategy that was onset relationships, but Harry couldn't be arsed. Wouldn't agree to it this time around, especially with a role as important this one.

“Is there a reason you're bothering me this early in the morning, Jeff?”

“Oh, I need a reason now? I can't just visit—”

With a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, Harry effortlessly tuned out the sound of his voice. His mind was elsewhere at the moment. He wasn't nearly as interested in their friendly banter as he normally would be.

Harry's eyes caught sight of a soft body rounding the corner into the trailer lot. Head drooped and shoulders sagged. Fuck. That couldn't be good. There hasn't been a time where Harry has seen Louis look anything other than poised with his head held high. Something was wrong. Something was off.

“Are you listening to me?” Jeff cut through his internal worry.

“No—um,” Harry peeked through his curtains one last time, judging the distance between Louis and his trailer, and quickly dodging out of the way just as Louis looked up. “There's no nice way to put this, but, can you leave? I've got someone coming and–”

“A visitor? Who is it?” Jeff sprung up off the sofa, before Harry could block him, and pulled back the silky fabric of the curtain. “Oh, you've got to be kidding me.” he said as his face twisted into a grin. “You're still pining over this guy?”

Jeff dissolved into a fit of laughter and Harry couldn't even begin to imagine why.

“No? Fuck you. Yes. God, can you just please leave?” Harry struggled as he attempted to push Jeff towards the door.

“No, I really needed to talk to you. I received your promo schedule the other day—”

“Christ Jeff you can email me this, yeah?” Go, go, go.” Harry pushed and pushed until Jeff was halfway out the door

“I haven't seen you this desperate in years, it's great.” he cackled as he stumbled out the door.

“Piss off.” Harry slammed the opening shut and breathed a small sigh of relief. He smoothed out the wrinkles of his clothing and twirled a strand of hair to dangle over his forehead. Whatever it took to look presentable, and not like he was fretting over Louis’ absence for the last hour.

He quickly threw himself against the sofa as the trailer door began to jiggle. His body language fiend nonchalance as his heart rate gave away his nerves. Louis slowly and carefully slid his way through the door, head still faced down, and not noticing Harry at first glance.

“Hey, Lou.”

“Oh fuck—” Louis gasped and curled his body in defense. “Jesus, you scared me.”

Shit.

“Sorry, babe, I didn't mean to.” Harry stood up from the couch and stepped just a bit closer to him. “Everything alright? You usually beat me here, I was beginning to worry.” Harry tried for lighthearted. Even went as far as chuckling lightly and pasting on a smile.

“I–um–yeah, just missed the train s’all.” Louis shrugged it off, and moved toward the entrance of the dressing room.

Harry followed cautiously. Keeping his distance and doing his best not to hover. The last thing he wanted to do was set Louis off or do anything to further upset him.

“Why aren't you dressed yet?” Louis asked distractedly as he began to pull clothing from the racks.

“Well that's your job, innit?” Harry tried for a joke, but ultimately fell flat when Louis’ lips remained pressed in a firm line. “I actually don't have to be dressed til late afternoon today. Think there was some minor difficulties on set this morning, and it mucked up everyone's schedule.”

“So I assume that means we’ll be on set later than planned?”

Harry shrugged. “I would assume so, yes.”

“Great.” Louis sighed as he abandoned the clothing rack to curl up against the sofa.

“Are you sure everything is alright?” Harry questioned with a bit of worry. “You don't have to tell me, of course, but is there anything I can do?”

“Everything will be alright, mate. Thanks.”

“Mate?” Harry repeated a bit taken aback. “So we’re mates now? Are we finally moving forward?”

“No we’re not bloody mates.” Louis grumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest.

He was in a right mood today. Eyes rolling more than usual and grumpy scowl a bit more prominent. Harry’s efforts seemed useless. Might as well let him get through whatever he’s going through without serving to further annoy him.

“Alright, I'll leave you alone then.”

Harry turned to exit out of the room but was quickly halted by a soft wait. He thought he could've imagined it, but when he glanced back over his shoulder, a pair of tired blue eyes met his, and a nervously bitten lip drew him in.

“There is—one thing you can do. If the offer is still on the table.” Louis spoke with a bit of hesitancy. If only he knew how tightly wrapped around his finger Harry already was.

“Sure, anything.” Harry shrugged as he awaited his instructions.

“Okay, but there are rules.” he pointed his finger sternly and sat up a bit to address him properly. “We don't speak of this afterwards and you don't get to fall in love with me.”

“What?” Harry asked taken aback. Feeling somewhat caught even though he never admitted to anything. “That's awfully presumptuous and a bit sure of yourself—”

“Agree to my terms, Harry.” Louis said with a bit of an edge. Letting Harry know his patience were running thin and he could look elsewhere for someone to help him out.  

“Alright, fine, I agree.” Harry rushed out still partially confused. “What is it that you need me to do then?”

Louis looked at him through droopy eyes. Mirth and playfulness gone and replaced by his previous exhaustion and need. With his dainty hand, he leaned over and pat the opposite corner of the sofa, quietly instructing Harry to sit down. Harry obliged willingly. Taking the short steps to reach the cushion and sitting awkwardly in the corner away from him. Louis eyed him carefully, before moving in closer. Studying all of Harry’s features and seemingly testing the boundaries of their personal space. Slipping closer and closer and hovering just within breathing distance of Harry’s lips.

“Cuddle me.”

#this is literally as I left it over a year ago #I can't read it because I don't want to cringe at past me's writing #it's five chapters #if any of you wanna take it off my hands and write the rest be my guest #asks #Anonymous

[britishassistant]

Nana: Part 2

Disclaimer: All Nanbaka characters are property of Futamata Shou. I just wrote about them.

Hani bristled as he felt his latest annoyance ran over to him. Just when he was about to trounce Uno at darts again! Sure he may have lost the past two games, but darts were Hani’s specialty. He wasn't about to get beaten by that shrimp-haired bastard on his home turf!

Nana stopped about a foot from him, looking on curiously as he lined up his shot. “Kiji-San said I needed to come over here to make friends.”

“What the hell for? You’ve already got Nanba’s number one heartthrob for a cell mate.” Hani grunted, examining the board carefully. His arm tensed to throw.

“He said that you and Trois-San are bad influences. Because you steal bras and he steals panties.” Hani’s shot veered wildly at the blasé accusation. “Are you winning?”

“NOT ANYMORE I’M NOT!!” Hani roared, outraged. The nerve of this kid, throwing around such a baseless allegation! “Besides, why would I stoop to stealing worthless upper underwear?! Everyone knows that panties are the pinnacle of a man’s dream!!”

Nana looked thoroughly unimpressed by his heartfelt claim. “So what? You’re still a perverted underwear thief regardless.”

Hani scoffed. “Whatever. I wouldn't expect a kid whose balls haven't dropped yet to understand.”

Nana reddened in shame at the truth in his words, mouth gaping as he tried and failed to come up with a comeback. Hani enjoyed the small sense of satisfaction from being able to shut one of his cell mates up at least, even if his throw had to be ruined to do it.

Just then the shrimp-bastard decided to interject himself into a conversation that didn't involve him, and clamped a hand on Hani’s shoulder. “Jeez, and I thought you just had a bad attitude! A pervert on top of being short-tempered— no wonder you had to steal women’s underwear, they probably wouldn't go near you otherwise.”

“I HAVE MORE EXPERIENCE WITH THEM THAN YOU, SHRIMP-BASTARD!! AND DON’T TOUCH ME!!” Hani swiped at the hand on his person. Nothing pissed him off more than Uno’s shit-eating grin—

“Wow, Hani-kun even looks good defending his reprehensible habits and bad luck with women!”

—Except, perhaps, for Trois’s infuriating put-downs that he said with a sweet tone and a sincere smile. “Trois, you BAASTAAARD!!!!”

Uno pretended to wiggle a finger in his ear. “Noisy as always, huh? It’s probably a miracle I haven't gone deaf yet from arrow-head over here.” He held out a hand to Hani’s latest annoyance. “By the way, it’s nice to meet you. I’m prisoner number 11, but call me Uno.”

“I-I’m number 0307, but Hani-San a-and Trois-San call me Nana. I’m their new cell mate.” Nana stuttered slightly, returning the handshake. Which was weird, because this was the first time Hani had ever heard Nana trip over his words. “I-I’m very sorry, y-you probably get asked this a lot, but a-are you from England?”

Uno grinned and scratched a cheek with a finger. “You can tell from the accent, huh? Yeah, I’m from a place called Birmingham— probably don't know where that is though—“

“I know where that is!” Nana insisted, sounding more fired up than Hani had previously seen him. “I-I’ve never been there, but I could find it on a map! I’m from a small village between Essex and Hertfordshire.”

For some reason, the grin on Uno’s face became a mega-watt beam. “Seriously?! Man, it’s been a while since someone from my country came to Nanba! Everyone here is Japanese, American or Chinese.”

“My beautiful self is French.” Trois interjected from where he was trying to teach the human lock-pick how to play billiards.

“I-I’m German.” The fire guy from New Year’s added tentatively from where he was playing mahjong with the braided chinaman and the trap guard.

“I’m from Texas!” The green-haired brat from 13 yelled cheerfully, waving his game console.

“Pretty sure that is America, Nico!” The gambler called back fondly. He turned to the kid. “Anyway, welcome to Nanba! I’m this prison’s number one heartthrob.”

“…You know, that’s the third time I’ve heard that phrase since I came here.” The boy’s tone was more than a little exasperated, but still upbeat. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Uno-San.”

Nana’s eyes were practically goddamn sparkling and his smile almost matched Uno’s for intensity. The way he was looking at the shrimp-bastard, was almost like…

“Oh HELL no.” Hani bodily forced himself between the two, and steered Nana away from the shrimp-haired bastard towards Trois. “No, no, no. Fuck NO.”

“Hani-San, what—?” Nana protested, trying to dig his heels in.

“That’s Hani-Senpai to you!” They were off the coast of Japan, so he at least should get to be called by the proper honorific as the senior inmate, like in Ninja Kamikaze, dammit!

He safely deposited one annoyance away from the other, and spun the boy around to face him, hands an iron grip on his shoulders. The look on Hani’s face was slightly manic, the arrows in his hair jabbing the air wildly.

“Listen to me. I don't fucking care if you wanna be all buddy-buddy because you come from the same shitty country or whatever—under NO circumstances are you allowed to start mimicking that cowardly, cheating, plain-looking shrimp bastard!”

He already had to deal with Uno in the recreation room. Hani wasn't going to chance having a mini-version in his cell with him.

Nana blinked, a stupefied look crossing his face. “…What?!”

“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU CALLING PLAIN-LOOKING, YOU STUPID ARROW ASSHOLE!!” The aforementioned cowardly, cheating, plain-looking shrimp bastard screeched.

“YOU HEARD ME YOU THIRD-RATE BRAIDED IDIOT!!!” Hani bellowed in return. “STOP TRYING TO CORRUPT MY CELLMATES WITH YOUR WEIRD UNATTRACTIVE STUPIDITY, YOU LIMEY BASTARD!!!”

“BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP BEFORE I COME OVER THERE TO BEAT YOUR ASSES!!!” The bald gorilla roared.

Nana let out an “eep!” and somehow managed to escape Hani’s grasp to hide behind Trois in less than three seconds.

Trois gently patted the trembling child’s head. “There, there, the gorilla’s not coming after you, see? Nothing to be afraid of.”

“He hates me.” Nana rasped, staring sightlessly at Trois’ jumpsuit, fisted hands shaking. “He definitely hates me. No one glares like that unless they hate you. He’s going to murder me the first time he gets the chance.”

Hani frowned from where he’d taken shelter behind the billiards table. Great, he’d just gotten the kid over the last attempt, now all his good work was put to waste thanks to that shitty gorilla. Nana looked just as much of a nervous wreck as when he’d arrived.

He was about to get up and start telling his junior that not everyone had it out for him, when the human lock-pick spoke up. “Hajime wouldn’t do that. He gets angry at us, and beats us up, but he wouldn't ever do something like that. It goes against the nature of “supervisor”, and Hajime is the first to get pissed off when someone does that. He won't kill you. None of the guards will. They just wanna keep us here, not hurt us.”

Hani pouted, somewhat put out at the emotionless brat stealing his thunder. Then he glanced at the kid, and his skin prickled.

“Do you promise?” Nana’s eyes were wide and focused, penetrating in their scrutiny.

It was the same gaze Hani had been confronted with when he had found the boy practically folded in half balanced on top of a bathroom stall during lunch, gripping the knife he’d been stabbed with in case his attacker happened to look up while searching for him.

The inconsistent human key nodded. “I promise. I’m Jyugo. Nice to meet you.”

All the tension seemed to drain out of the child’s posture, and his eyes dropped. “I’m Nana…pardon me if this is rude, but aren't your feet cold?”

The gazes of everyone at the billiards table dropped to the drowning expert’s bare feet. “Ah, well, the cuffs make it kind of hard to wear shoes, so—”

“Aren't sandals or house shoes an option though? They don't reach your ankles.” Nana frowned. “It’s bad to just go around like that— they could get cut open if you step on something sharp, or your toes could get broken into an ugly mess if someone with shoes trod on them. You should ask your supervisor for something suitable that goes with your look.”

Uno, who was cowering on the other side of the billiards table, heaved a sigh. “And here I was wondering if you were really a part of the pretty-boy Cell. Guess you are one of them after all, huh?”

Nana reddened, and began fidgeting like the lock-pick had been throughout his scolding.

Trois smiled. “Wow, your jealousy is really uncool, Uno-kun! Though it is to be expected in the face of the beauty of Nanba’s number one heartthrob~”

The shrimp-bastard ground his teeth in envy. Hani snorted at the sight. “C’mon limey. I still need to beat you at darts again.”

“Excuse you, I was winning, you arrow bastard!” The gambler scampered back over to the board.

“You wish, braided asshole!” Hani followed him, intent on proving his mastery.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the lock-pick direct Nana over to the sickly kid and the chi guy. Every time he happened to glance over, they all appeared absorbed in the shitty game console the druggie was playing on.

Then Uno would make a smart-ass remark about mother hens or some fuckery, and Hani would refocus on destroying the shrimp bastard on the dartboard.

About half-an-hour in, Nana ran over again. “Hani-Senpai, do you know where the bathrooms are?”

Hani raised an eyebrow. Last time he’d been asked that question, he’d ended up following a murderer following his cell mate. “D’you need to wash your hands or something?”

Nana pulled a face. He was still irritated that Hani had made him do that immediately after getting down from the top of the stall— even though they were filthy. “No. I just need to go.”

“How the fuck should I know? I don't live here.” He turned back to his throw.

The braided moron piped up, “Seitaro will tell you— he’s the wimpy pretty boy over there. He won't bite like Hajime does.”

“Thank you Uno-San!” Nan bowed, and ran to the guard who’d managed to beat Kiji at New Year’s. After speaking with both him, the gorilla and Kiji, the pair left, and the guard returned a few minutes later, talking to the gorilla. Based on what Hani could overhear, a guard called Kuu was keeping watch.

Well, it wasn't like Nana could get into much trouble without Hani knowing about it—after the lunch incident, he’d made the boy keep one of his special bullets on him at all times.

Hani smiled as he got another bulls-eye.

His latest annoyance would probably be just fine.

#nanbaka #nanbaka the numbers #nanba prison #hani nanbaka #nanbaka hani #0382 #nanbaka honey #honey #nanbaka trois #trois nanbaka #trois #0303 #nanbaka oc #0307 #uno #uno nanbaka #nanbaka uno #kuu nanbaka #kuu #hajime sugoroku #nanbaka seitarou #nanbaka hajime #kiji mitsuba #kiji nanbaka #jyugo #nanbaka jyugo #1311 #1315 #my writing #inmate oc

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Problematic Movies of the '80s | Weird Science (1985)

By Don Hall

It’s interesting that statistics show that kids today aren’t having as much sex as we did “back in my day.” When I was a teenager, I was constantly overwhelmed by the Constant Boner of Young Adulthood. I thought about girls and tits and sex almost to a degree one could call mentally unstable. I was not alone. Most kids in the ’80s were consumed by sex. As an act, as a conquest, as a reward. Somewhere along the line (Hey! Let’s blame technology on the decline in teenage libido!) dudes were more consumed with winning at Fortnite than mastering the Art of the Seduction. 

Maybe it’s the far more complicated sexual landscape we face today and all the work required just to let someone know you want to fuck (because that is pervy and rapey and to indicate that you are not primarily interested in someone’s opinion or state of mind or hopes and dreams is to proliferate the culture of objectification and, if I had all of that in my 14-year-old brain, I might’ve decided it wasn’t worth the effort as well…)

No, today, sex has to be the last thing on your mind if you ever hope to have it. Not so in 1985. In 1985, there was a horny, stupid ideal of the perfect woman and the movie Weird Science exemplified it. Given today’s sex robots and unlimited free porn, I’d say we haven’t gone too far away from the concept — using technology to manufacture the sexual partner who does not question, holds no complications, and is universally desired is a booming industry.

What I remember about Weird Science is Bill Paxton as the hysterical bullying Chet, the song, and Kelly LaBrock. While LaBrock wasn’t really my type she was definitely hot. No question.

This is also a John Hughes film. Certainly a fan of The Breakfast Club and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, I was a far bigger fan of Weird Science. Perhaps it was that I identified more with the two nerds with no game than I did with any of the characters in most of Hughes’ films. Perhaps it was the idea of creating a woman who liked me no matter what my flaws had been. It may have to do with the fact that most of Hughes’ protagonists come from wealthy families from the Northshore of Chicago and these two idiots somehow felt less so (despite the million-dollar home Wyatt’s parents own).

In terms of Hughes’ movies and the concept of problematic moments, the dude got it wrong a lot. From Long Duck Dong in Sixteen Candles to Judd Nelson peeking up Molly Ringwald’s skirt and still ending up being her best choice for mating material in The Breakfast Club, Johnny Boy taught the young lads of the ’80s a host of bad lessons whilst cracking us up.

Weird Science Written and Directed by John Hughes 1985

In my experience, there are very few actors who, with their very presence, can sum up an entire archetype without actually doing anything. Marilyn Monroe, Charlie Chaplin, Judi Dench, John Candy. And Anthony Michael Hall. From the second you see he and Ilan Mitchell-Smith in their high school gym shorts standing, watching girls do gymnastics, Hall exudes the very essence of the high school geek. All legs and awkwardness, his mouth hung slightly open most of the time. His is the picture next to the dictionary definition.

Weird Science banks on this as he and Mitchell-Smith enact Hughes’ ’80s high school version of Frankenstein/Mary Poppins. The two boys, Gary and Wyatt, are all desire and disappointment as, on a sleepover watching a colorized version of Frankenstein on TV, Gary gets the idea to create the perfect woman via dial up modem computer. They need “more power” so Wyatt hacks into what appears to be the Pentagon’s servers and this juices up things so that electrical magic happens and Lisa (Kelly LaBrock) appears in sports panties and half shirt amidst the chaos.

“So. What would you little maniacs like to do first?” she purrs.

Lisa takes them on a magic carpet ride to a blues bar on the Southside of Chicago, the mall, and ultimately throws a party at Wyatt’s parents’ house (these kids come from very well-off families!) that includes hundreds of teenagers, a young Robert Downey Jr. as a bully, a nuclear missile and the Australian bad-guy from the original Mad Max. No, this doesn’t even have to pretend to be rooted in the real Evanstonian world of his previous films. This one is pure fantasy.

In the end, as all Mary Poppins-inspired tales must, the boys have gained confidence in themselves (and girlfriends!) and Lisa moves on to coach scores of idiots in exactly the same manner because that’s all that incels need, a hot super model with magic powers to guide them.

Problematic moments & themes

While I’m uncertain that Gary and Wyatt learn to not fetishize and objectify women (let alone create one using 1980s Max Headroom graphics) the fact that Lisa is imbued with genius level intellect — I mean, they scanned in a picture of Einstein when building her! — and is in control of everything from the moment she appears. In terms of agency, she never relents an iota of it throughout. She takes no shit from anyone.

Sure, she begins the process of having sex with 15-year-old Wyatt but we immediately find out that he passed out and no sex was had. Lisa, despite being the Frankenstein’s Monster, is completely in charge and badass. In essence, the boys really did create the perfect woman — beautiful, confident, intelligent and no one’s object.

Chet (Bill Paxton) is problematic in that he loves to throw the word “faggot” around but he ultimately gets owned and punished for being such a turd, if not specifically for being a raging homophobe.

Fortunately, Hughes hires a whole room full of black actors for Weird Science. Unfortunately, they all play characters named Bar Patron, Guy at Table and Bartender.

The scene in the blues bar is funny in that fish-out-of-water sort of way and the black men are never treated as anything but masters of their domain. If Gary hadn’t gotten drunk and then done a skinny white kid’s version of a pimp-hat wearing black caricature for far too long, it wouldn’t even raise a flag on the play. Admittedly, I found his cartoonish impression of a black man to be pretty offensive. All he needed was some blackface makeup and he’d be Kingfish from Amos and Andy.

Did it hold up?

Weird Science is problematic but not for the reasons I thought it would be. In the lens of 2018, the feminist perspective is strong given that the initial impulse to create is small and objectifying but the creation herself is an ideal of feminine strength and power. The blues bar is pretty rough when we add the kaleidoscope of diversity on top.

Given that Hughes wrote the screenplay in two days, it’s amazing it isn’t far more troubling and, more importantly, the movie is still funny. The avatar of uncool that was Anthony Michael Hall in his teenage heyday steeps this goofy ass Frankenstein story with too many hysterical throwaways and moments at the expense of the rich, white kid to completely dismiss this as crap.

And the Thomas Dolby title song is pure pop culture genius, as sticky and memorable as almost any movie song ever written.

Overall

Scale of 1 to 10 1 = Classic 10 = Burn all VHS copies of it

Weird Science gets a 4

Next Up: Earth Girls Are Easy (1988)

#Problematic Movies of the ’80s #Weird Science