#but you can at least appreciate the exercise of thinking up what powers would deal the most psychic damage to these guys

[dzpenumbra]

6/14/23

Caught up on sleep today. Even with only 7 hours, the difference is absolutely night and day. Did yoga and today's exercise routine which was pretty upper body heavy. This one pushed me close to my limits. I still find it weird that I'm getting to the point of where my muscles kinda go weak and give out, but I still don't get sore. It's just odd to me.

I played a bunch of Rimworld. Kinda just spaced out and absorbed things on my secondary monitor as the game played itself. I always forget how much I love that game, it pulls me in so deeply. I could draw a map of the colony from memory at this point. I'm playing a Sanguophage scenario on Blood and Dust difficulty, pretty heavily modded, and I'm playing around with a map that's an island in the middle of a lake. It's challenging because you have limited area to build on, and getting to resources on the main landmass can be slow-going, but it offers extra security being completely surrounded by water. I'm starting to construct bridges too, so I can control the flow of where raids, caravans and my colonists go. I think having a big stockpile of wood for repairs would be good, then if raids start getting rough I can just put an incendiary IED on the bridge and let them blow it, to cut their own reinforcements off, then rebuild it after.

I've always played by sorta... making one general common room and then just expanding a complex off of that. So the whole colony is one giant building, basically. Then making walls and bunkers around that for extra security. But... I've been trying to break out of that lately, and build more realistically. I'm trying to build separate structures, and dedicated power for individual structures too, so that I can sorta... break dependency on a centralized power grid. At least to start, I'm curious how it's going to play out. But... this building style is much more space demanding... and I'm on a small island... so that limitation is going to likely keep population pretty low.

I'm tempted, as always, to record another playthrough. To make a story out of it, since it's always a story anyways. It's a little late for that, but... I'm tempted to do one in the format of journals kept in the colony. So the footage shows the events, and the journal is read as voiceover, reflecting on the events as we watch them unfold. I like the idea. I'm not crazy about the work involved. But hell, it's better than just playing and not making a series.

What I don't want to do is... play on stream and get backseated. I am so fucking eternally grateful that people can't fucking spoil a randomly generated game, I swear to god I will never play a game with a narrative on stream ever again. People are just children. I really don't understand it. What the fuck is the deal with people and spoilers. Or thinking they're being coy with spoilers, like "ohh... :D why don't you find out? <wink wink>" or... "ohh... this part PEPW" I just can't. It ruins it. It absolutely ruins it. The whole point of a story, a narrative, is... it's meticulously designed (or at least it's supposed to be...) with something called "pacing". Well crafted stories give you information at a deliberate pace, there's an art to it, you see what you're supposed to see, as a way of controlling the reveal. Feeding information like that ahead of time literally ruins the effect and intention of the entertainment medium. Permanently. You get no second try to see something for the first time. It is mindblowing to me that people who appreciate this medium of storytelling so much that they not only consume it themselves, but watch other people consume it as well... don't actually understand how it works. Or maybe they're just sadists. I don't really know which is worse.

Needless to say, I'm having doubts about playing games on stream if I get back into streaming. It's been crossing my mind again lately. Mostly because... I don't have Mods. It's really fucking hard to fluidly play a game, play tech support for your own stream, tell an in-depth improvised story and babysit full-grown adults with impulse problems who have been told multiple times to cut the shit and stop trying to control the damn stream. It tests my nerves, which I really don't like. I had tried really hard to be patient and nice to these people over the years. I explained at length to several of them exactly why backseating is shit. Why it ruins the playthrough, I even put "No Backseating" as a tag. It's really important. I need to fuck up. I need to forget things. Say someone drops in a transport pod and they're bleeding out and need to be rescued and they would make a great addition to the colony, and I go "okay, I'll get right to that" and wrap up some shit first, but I get distracted and that person bleeds out. That's big. That's an important plot point. That completely changes the story. I'd say... 1/3 of the story is what the game randomly generates. 1/3 is what I input into it as part of playing the game, the decisions I make and things I miss. And 1/3 of it is how I connect the dots to stitch a narrative. Those may not be even thirds, but all three are crucial components, and when one is compromised, the others (and the whole) suffer.

So, in the past, I made it very clear to people - because they do have good intentions, they're just approaching it like... helping someone solve a crossword puzzle, not like watching a movie... - I made it clear to people that periodically I will consult chat for their input on what they think we should do in certain circumstances, so they do get some input in how the story plays out. Anything outside of that, no. Pretty easy system to understand. But I still had regular problems, which is where a mod would come in.

Anyway... yeah, clearly streaming again is on my mind. I'm just hesitant. Same old reasons. Might just do it for fun just to prove to myself that it's not the end of the world.

I've been trying to connect the dots to get here. I did more work on the digital piece again today. The one I was getting bad vibes about. I went back in and deleted the prototype texture layers and made newer bigger ones, and it looks much better. But this piece is going to take fucking forever. Which, of course... led me to thinking about streaming it. Especially if I'm trying to get away from RP streams. I've actually detoxed off them pretty well lately. Mostly because the balance on the server just went to shit. It's 1985 and they're selling crowbars for over $70. $9 for a slice of pizza. "Immersion"... Every beat of how fucked the economy is on that server, a direct reflection of all the current problems going on today. Depressing. Seriously though, it really kills immersion in a setting that's specifically trying to capture a certain time period. Like... there are real-life price points for reference... But if you get a player base that knows that a crowbar is a game mechanic tool that is required to break open ATMs... and you have a server that allows players to own all hardware stores in the game and set the prices... You'd really hope they'd actually... roleplay like it's real life... and not take into consideration that these are the only tool you can use for that particular crime... You know, because it's roleplay... not a competitive video game... right? I mean surely they wouldn't be taking the fact that crowbars are the only tool for that specific criminal job into consideration when they jack the price of them... right? Right? <exasperated sigh> People just can't fucking help themselves. So yeah, it's kinda stressful to watch how much OOC and meta shit is going on in that server right now. Only took a month, well done people.

But yeah, as I was saying... before I got derailed for the thousandth time... I have been considering streaming my digital art because it would be easy as fuck. All I have to do is figure out the audio routing and I should be fine to just play tunes. And I have a ton of work left to do, so... plenty of material to work with. As long as I don't have to deal with DMCA bullshit, that's all I care about. I can break up the monotony with Session or Risk of Rain or even Noita. I can make it work.

So... the digi piece is coming along well. And this was after a false start with the pair of shorts I was going to ink a design into. It started with an image from the Papyrus of Ani with Anubis weighing the heart against the feather of Ma'at. And... I got sidetracked trying to translate the hieroglyphs... then subsequently getting myself back on track and trying to put a sketch on the pants but... the idea I wanted to do was put the design over the cargo pocket on these khaki colored shorts. I ironed the pants as flat as I could get, but I couldn't get the pencil sketch to show up visibly enough for me to be comfortable working with it. Then I went to a plan B, doing a sketch of an image of Thoth from the same Papyrus, sorta standing next to the cargo pocket... but it was just kinda weird location with it on the top and inner thigh of the pants... so I kinda scrapped the idea. I hate scrapping ideas, but I just don't think it's gonna work with these pants. I'll keep brainstorming and come up with something eventually.

After I finished working on the digital piece, I started throwing together my simple mala necklace. And... I don't know how I feel about it, honestly. It's... very simple. Like... 13 Tiger's Eye beads on a white-dyed piece of hemp. And I was going to knot them about an inch and a half apart. And that was going to be it. But... it's just... much more simple than I was envisioning. It kinda feels like it's... too simple. I like the white and different colored Tiger's Eye contrast. I like the idea of the knots. The spacing seems good enough that I don't have to put on a clasp, I can just make it a closed loop. I'm just tempted to fill the space between the stones with wooden beads. But if I do that... it's going to be a lot of them. I don't know, maybe I'm overthinking it and I should just make it, and if I don't like it after I finish it... I can just untie the knots and re-make it.

So yeah, that's kind where I'm at today. Lots of creativity today, happy about that. And not a lot of anxiety, which is nice. I think I only got anxious one time, watching some analysis video of The Matrix and realizing it came out... 24 fucking years ago... and that just... yeah. Oh boy... I remember being in middle school when that came out, I remember my friends would come over and we'd watch it in my family's living room on VHS. I think... I think that was before DVD was big. Yeah, I guess when I put it that way it was a long time ago... XD

Alright, enough rambling, tarot time because I want a shower before bed.

Past - VII: The Chariot, inverted (Taking action; setting goals and remaining focused.  Approaching obstacles with strategy, tenacity and courage.) Present - Page of Swords, inverted (Childlike awe and wonder, epiphany. Encountering wisdom but unable to process it.  Keen intellect, strong will, but lacks context and experience.) Future - Five of Wands (Competition, disagreement, strife, and the accompanying need to step up to the challenge, prove yourself and see it through.)

I'm going to keep my placeholder card hidden from me for now, I'm curious to see if it's relevant at the end of the reading.

This thread starts with The Chariot, inverted. I've kept glancing at The Chariot on my index in my Tarot Study doc for a few days now, it's one of the few of the Major Arcana that I hadn't gotten yet with this deck. In this position, I think this would kinda represent... struggling to put things into action, being hesitant and restrained. Like something is holding me back, and seeing courage pop up in that resonated a lot.

This is connected to a card I've gotten a few times recently, the Page of Swords, this time inverted. The Page of Swords feels to me like the image of someone really excited and inspired, but clumsy and inexperienced. And I'm kinda getting the vibe of... stuck with this one.

And this leads to... Five of Wands. Conflict... more specifically competition, I guess. Those are different things. Being challenged by others and having to rise to meet that challenge. Which I, being a very strict pacifist (aka "pussy"), have been deeply struggling with for a long time. But standing by your creations, your expressions, is an important part of being yourself in society. It's standing up for yourself.

So... my hesitation to move forward due to fear and kinda... being a bit disorganized... is leading to me being stuck in this state where I feel very knowledgeable and inspired, but very clumsy and naive... and this leads to being challenged by others, and having to defend myself. There's a definite trend of courage leading from origin to end here. Courage to drive The Chariot, courage to fail/learn as the Page of Swords, courage to stand up and prove yourself as the Five of Wands. If I were more courageous in The Chariot stage, there would be much more stability to work off of. If there was more courage in the Page, the slips and fuck-ups wouldn't be setbacks, merely bumps in the road. And all of that courage is essential for Five of Wands, in the end.

The placeholder card I had was Queen of Pentacles. A new one for me with a really long description that I skimmed through, but didn't really gather any of it because I really have to pee. Meh, points for trying. I'm off to bed.

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of thoughts #stream of consciousness

[0nlinetechmebd]

Tips on how Write Your First successful Technical blog techonlineme

Tips on how to Write Your First a hit Technical weblog What you want to recognise to get started out

Picture: Christin Hume Advent If you have by no means written a technical blog earlier than, it may seem a piece overwhelming. You would possibly even be asking yourself, “wherein do I even begin?” in case you find your self in this role, the factor of this blog is to assist break down the entire manner into some thing a little extra effortlessly digestible. As soon as you already know a number of the essential building blocks, the actual writing method could be a lot easier. However earlier than diving into the way to create a blog, i can in short talk why you need to write one.

Why You must Write a Technical blog There are many blessings to writing a technical weblog and now not best for the only reason of assisting others. If you’re still on the fence, then right here are 5 motives why you ought to severely take into account developing one.

The best manner to learn something is to train others the expertise which you have won. Regurgitating that facts will solidify it greater firmly on your mind. You are supplying price where you work whilst building your personal. Your enterprise will appreciate that you went from your manner to expose others how to resolve a particular problem that you came across. You're practicing your vital thinking capabilities. Doing studies, amassing data, formulating that information into something comprehensible to others, all require you to use vital thinking. It’s like a muscle: whilst you exercise that element, you turn out to be a whole lot extra green and quicker at identifying problems. A part of being a valued worker entails being an powerful communicator. Showing this in a blog is an smooth way to show off this ability or enhance on in case you are missing. It’s one element to resolve a trouble in your personal, but it’s pretty an entirely different method when you have to carry an idea that is without difficulty understood by a big selection of humans. Final but not least, potential recruiters now greater than ever log on to see what cool projects you have worked on inside the beyond. This is a terrific possibility to position some of your work available to the public. They may be impressed that you actively took the time to analyze and then share that understanding with an internet audience. Concept The first step is figuring out what it is you're going to be writing approximately. Think about all of the beyond or latest initiatives you have got labored on. Become there a time where you came across a difficult problem which you had been uncertain approximately a way to deal with and solve, but eventually discovered? In that case, then this would be a tremendous opportunity a good way to percentage this bit of expertise by means of writing an informative blog on the way you went approximately solving that difficulty.

Normally, 9 times out of 10, when you have encounter a trouble, then someone else has too, so why now not impart a number of that beneficial expertise to others?

Research As with something you will be sharing, you will want to do some basis ahead of time. Move on Google to appearance up what studies has already been accomplished on the concern you are looking to address. Visit web sites which you visited in the past and pull what you want. Doing this isn't cheating, in reality, you're saving yourself precious time going this direction. Why waste electricity while a person else has achieved a whole lot of the initial paintings? All you're doing is collecting those useful pieces of information and consolidating them into one, easy resource for an individual to extract from.

[libramonthlyhoroscope1]

921 meaning

The meaning of 921 indicates that you have a message from your angels. The coincidences of angel number 921 have brought you to this page. You have seen this recurring number frequently. It shows up when you least expect it. The spiritual angels are trying to talk to you. 

 Equality is requested by number 921. This is being fair in all your dealings. It is considering the majority as well as the minority in decision making. You are a leader in a certain jurisdiction. It is difficult for you to go against your family and friends’ wishes. It has always been hard for you to work with them. 

The 921 guardian angel wants you to be a fair leader. Do not consider your family ties, do not think of the enemies you will make but do what is right for everyone. Justice is not privileged but a right.

Angel Number 921 Spiritual Meaning

What does 921 mean spiritually? It would be nice to appreciate that no one is perfect. Be fair to yourself by ignoring your failures and give yourself another chance to try again. Indeed, success is determined by what you think; thus, you need to avoid judging yourself too harshly, especially on things beyond your control.

 If you keep seeing 921 everywhere, it reminds you to ask God to guide you to accept yourself and learn to be fair. Your angels are urging you to be determined to achieve more in life. So keep an active spiritual life to gain more divine inspirations and wisdom.

921 Symbolic Meaning

The 921 symbolism shows that it would be excellent to take advantage of your strengths and abilities to better your life. Avoid following the crowd or the lifestyle of other people without any thought. So try to commit to self-fairness, and it will also radiate to others. Also, learn to support others upon meeting your needs to ensure that you don’t help others while failing to meet your own.

The 921 angel number urges you to stay close to people who demonstrate self-love and fairness. Your mentors will tell you to do the right things for yourself before you can do for others. So try to practice and model righteousness to live a more fulfilled life.

Facts About 921

More things you should know are in angel numbers 9,2,1,92 and 21 meanings.

Angel number 921 is full of symbolism. It is a mixed number with many factors to discuss. Number meaning 9 is a sign of celebration. It depicts the influence that an individual has on people. Number 2 is a balance. This is equality and fair treatment.

Number 1 is a sign of teamwork. It means being one voice as a group. 92 is a number signifying authority. It means leadership without dictatorship. Number 21 is a sign of a correction. This is correcting past mistakes and improving on misfortunes. 91 is a sign of optimism and positive thoughts.

Angel Number 921 Meaning

Authority is given by angel number 921. This is the act of restoring power. This is a sign of command and leadership. Your boss has left for a while. They were present but unable to perform to the optimum. You are second in the food chain. It is difficult for you to give orders to your colleagues. They are your associates and friends. The angels want you to rise to the occasion. Show that you deserve a promotion. Business and friendships do not mix.

The organization is commanded by a number meaning 921. This is doing things in order. It is a good planner. You are expected to conduct a certain exercise. The tasks are not yet allocated. It would be best if you organized everyone. Be the one to plan the events. Sit down and make a list of what needs to be done. Give people their tasks according to their talents.

Angel Number 921 Conclusion

In summary, your life will transform positively when you heed these numbers and their meanings. Angel number 921 says that you should not be quick to judge others but try to be fair to yourself first and live more fulfilled.

[niccomic4]

How To Obtain The Best Laptop For Needs

Your office is within the. If you run a home-based business, you will definitely appreciate the pliability that a laptop provides. It's even better advertising have an invisible network in your residense. Imagine working at your kitchen table a person let dinner simmer in regards to the stove, or moving your laptop a new quiet place so can easily work although the kids play next door to workplace! There with the problem with remote support however; physical repairs won't be done. Must have a motherboard changed? Unfortunately you can't may over the online world. Need your LCD screen updated? You can't do which more than the phone either. However, these kinds of repairs additionally becoming a specific thing of weight loss. The price of laptops adjusted down tremendously over recent years. All laptops nowadays tend arrive with a 1-3 year warranty. If something happens in your time producer will cover all repairs and overheads. Because the price associated with an new laptop is so low, the actual warranty expires, repairing your old laptop is often not this time or if the money. You have heard a colleague suggesting you to rent a laptop when you are traveling. They claim that involved with more convenient than bringing your own laptop. I know of a regarding wisdom about them. Sometimes people think that the laptop end up being with all those meals the days. However, this is not always true. There are several occasions when you rent a laptop could be more better. All escalating left take into account is the information. Buying a new laptop isn't gonna be come installed with your treasured family photos and videos yet another important files that were stored on top of your old broken laptop. Preventing this problem however rather simple. First, you will most likely always have a backup of the important files and information. All hard drive fail after a period. It's not a matter of "if" but "when." Recovery can be fairly expensive, from several hundred dollars to restore deleted files to several thousand dollars to fix a physically broken hd. Backing up files to a USB key or cheap external hard space can performed automatically and expense you nothing. Traveler's diarrhea claims 30-50% of tourists abroad from inside the first two weeks, making it often in the middle of vomiting. Some other words, expect if you're leaking out both edges. it's natural. The best quest? Take over the counter anti-diarrheal medicine or antibiotics (rather than something which simply plugs you up), drink lots of water, lay low and let the good- or bad- times flow. Symptoms should resolve within a short time. Any far more that, talk to a need to rent a laptop doctor. Shit arrives. Relationships combust. https://chothuelaptop.info/cho-thue-laptop-ha-noi/ are forgotten. Feelings change. People get vomit. While you can't possibly anticipate every issue that might arise a person have move, you ought to have some idea what your back-up plan would be if great deal higher life within your new city isn't exercising. When I moved to New York, I brought my cats, laptop, as well as suitcases, but left a whole bunch of my belongings in storage in Philadelphia. That way, if things failed out between Drew and me, I was able to move to be able to Chicago without having to pay to ship my things twice. I waited until I was 100% ' wanted to remain in NYC before I sent for my belongings. It took five months that i can be different. Hardware: May consist within the good computer that has plenty of memory (at least 512MB) and professional quality processing power of a Pentium 4 or AMD Athlon chips. Having the latest and greatest mega-computer is nice, benefits necessary and does not make you one a lot more profitable. Youre the crucial part of this equation! A number of nowadays is you can buy an absolutely amazing computer for in a grand.

#thue laptop van phong

[lanezfeh331]

This Is Your Brain on booking

Spottocamp is actually a traveling website where you can easily browse, review as well as manual camping areas. Find relevant information, pictures as well as explanations of greater than 40.000 campgrounds planet vast. Learn what various other visitors have to state along with greater than 200.000 reviews on Spottocamp. Our hunt formula is actually created to locate the perfect suit for your holiday. Energetic holiday? Trigger our search filter for hiking, pullulating organic water or sailing and also searching, only to call a couple of. Or perform you would like to wake up every morning with the give off fresh baked pastries? Merely hit on the bread at area filter, and the most ideal matches will turn up. Therefore pack your camper, caravan or even tent and allow's go camping outdoors!

What is actually a better way to bond as a family than being actually out during the lumbers? Via camping outdoors, households find out to cooperate and also concern handle to have a fun as well as effective camping outdoors experience. It is actually additionally a fantastic time for children to gain from their moms and dads and also create a more significant amount of appreciation.

Rises Self-Confidence

Placing up the tent, starting a fire, preparing a dish; these are actually all activities that, as soon as finished efficiently, may help little ones (as well as grownups) develop confidence. Actually, outdoor camping is usually utilized to assist teenagers and children create a greater self-concept as well as self-respect. A plan I used to function with for at-risk teenagers, took the students on a camping outdoors excursion at minimum when a year to help them cultivate survival and lifestyle skills that aided build their positive self-image. They are actually much more very likely to be productive in the future when little ones are actually certain!

Promotes a Respect for Nature

Camping provides loved ones the opportunity to value the elegance and also miracle of attributes!

Exactly how can you dislike attributes when outdoor camping? Some camping sites offer viewpoints that are actually motivating and also gorgeous. Without television, electronic gadgets and also electrical power, our team may discover to take in all the sights as well as sounds of nature. Our team enjoy its own appeal and also miracle. In turn, our company care extra about safeguarding it!Enhances Concern Addressing Skills

Backpacking requires a large amount of concern resolving coming from the instant you get there at the campground. Households need to learn to correctly pitch a tent so they remain completely dry and also safe, start a fire so they are actually warm and also may prepare dishes and also, of course, you can't get shed in the timbers so someone must think where to trek as well as just how to create a trail property. Various other camping activities including sportfishing, exploring, kayaking as well as a really good vintage activity of horseshoes also entail concern dealing with capabilities!

Encourages a Well-balanced Lifestyle

Research studies have shown that being actually outdoors improves health and wellness, mental as well as physical. In enhancement, being kicked back and ignoring the concerns of the world, can likewise help a person boost their physical health and wellness. Last but not least, camping outdoors typically entails some form of physical exercise, as well as we all know that being actually literally active assists enhance bodily as well as psychological health!

Direct Exposure to Scientific Concepts

Outdoor camping is actually a blast to discover attribute and also find out various clinical concepts!

When outdoor camping, children discover concerning several vegetation lifestyle as to certainly not obtain a breakout or even consume a dangerous berry. While backpacking, campers are actually additionally subjected to astronomy as they gaze at the celebrities at evening. Going sportfishing while camping?

Enhanced Self-Awareness

What is actually a better technique for more information about on your own than roughing it in the open airs? Initially, you will learn if outdoor camping is actually for you or otherwise. Next off, you learn what type of rv you are: trailer, tent or cabin. Then you learn what you sites are made from. Can you place up a camping tent, collect firewood, build a fire, prepare over an open blaze or even create it with a 3 hr walking in the woods? You discover that you can possibly do more than you ever presumed possible.

Subjects Folks to New Adventures and also difficulties

Exploring Outdoor Camping Hotel

Coming from rock going up to bass fishing to ropes programs to hill biking, you are certain to find a new experience that will definitely check your stamina and also endurance! Trying brand new problems aids folks build confidence and also self-confidence.

Produces New Friendships

A lot of may think that camping is actually merely the loved ones in the lumbers, all alone! Today, camping can be actually an area of friends as well as loved ones taking pleasure in a typical rate of interest. Final summertime, my pals got to know brand-new people while camping.

Makes It Possible For Loved Ones to Kick Back, Loosen Up as well as De-Stress

Fishing at Camping Outdoors Hotel

Camping outdoors can assist family members unwind and take a break. Children can play without any sort of stress and moms and dads can easily relax or even an interact in a new experience. Being actually capable to de-stress can easily assist raise productivity when sending back to operate as well as institution!

[littlemisslipbalm]

“you make me so angry sometimes”

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He snickers, “Y’like it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S’a little rude.”

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seriously. What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t see it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So which am I?” She widens her eyes.

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

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

He laughs. “Thanks,” he drawls out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

“You’re late!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do not,” she warned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve got it,” Y/N says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s my job to touch you, Harry.”

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

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

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

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

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

He nods again, muttering “Fair, fair.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pauses again and she continues to work silently.

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

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

“Pardon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop that,” She muttered.

“Stop what?” He smiles wider.

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

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

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

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

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever, dude.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry hums and unclenches it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lisa nods, “Apologize.”

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

Lisa smiles.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He types back: “Of courseeee”.

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” he exhales.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yet the effect is similar,” she muses.

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

“Effect?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which part?”

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

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

“You know, so why don’t you?”

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

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

“And what if I don’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nick stays quiet, taking a drag of his cigarette.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I really am sorry,” she whispers again.

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re stubborn,” she notes.

“So are you,” he counters quickly.  

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

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

“That’d be nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Passion.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry giggles and scratches his nose against his index finger.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great. You?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harry,” she sighs contentedly.

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

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

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

“What?” Harry laughs, confused.

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

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

“How are you?” She continues.

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

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

“The one who’s obsessed with me?”

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

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

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

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

“Oh shut up!” She’s quick to reply.

“So you do?”

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

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

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

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

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

“No one said anything about nudes!”

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

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

“Aww, you’re flustered,” She coos.

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

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

“Because you called me,” he says confidently.

“I call everyone.”

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

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

“Or does it?”

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

“Yes.” She smiles.

“Yes!” He repeats happily.

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

“See you soon, Harry.”

“Not soon enough.”

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[shotorozu]

attractive things you do a lot

[sorta milestone celebration, but also something i made during todo’s birthday]

character(s) : multiple; five or more.

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns used, hinted to have a strong quirk but it’s not mentioned alot

post type : headcanons + scenario [fluff, the mildest of spice.] third year au! but it’s nothing nsfw, so no need to worry.

note(s) : i was planning on doing denki, tamaki, monoma, and 2 other characters— but my idea train stopped at shinsou so i’m sorry about that! just let me manifest some ideas rq, and i’ll make a part two.

»»————-　♡　————-««

todoroki shouto

eye contact is so attractive to him, he can’t explain it’s exact details

it’s definitely the way the both of you guys can practically read each other’s expressions just by staring into each other’s eyes it’s sorta telepathic?? im half joking

he absolutely loves the way you look away bashfully when you realize he’s staring at you— as you try to pretend he wasn’t just staring at you not so discreetly

and if you feel like it, you’ll stare back at him— totally teasing him with your eyes, as he slowly realizes that you’ve caught him staring

really adores your thinking face for some reason, you could be plotting about giving bakugou a knuckle sandwich, and shouto would just stare like “my s/o’s so attractive :))”

another thing he really likes is when you hold onto his hand, dragging his left side to your face whenever you feel colder than usual

you practically do the same thing when it’s too hot, and he doesn’t care if you’re sweaty or not. nope, not one bit.

he always found it attractive when he sees you bop your head to songs you really like. shouto just really likes seeing you enjoy yourself.

an extra to the cool/hot bit, he makes you run towards his direction by turning off the ac/heater.

last but not the least, his heart swoons when you kiss his scar. he has always been insecure about it, and you have helped him a lot!

mild spice here— whenever you bite your lip, his heart skips a beat

your lips are just so perfect to him, the shape, size, and color. so biting your lip does something alright. he doesn’t know what exactly though.

to conclude this, todoroki’s just whipped for you— it’s very noticable when he finds you extra attractive.

midoriya izuku

he loves seeing you hyped about something you’re really interested in.

like todoroki, seeing you enjoy yourself genuinely makes him content. his s/o having their own interests is really big for him

strength is something he admires (but he’s not power hungry like end*avor, don’t get confused).

so no, it doesn’t just reflect on your strong and capable quirk—

no. it’s so much deeper than that to him, seeing that you can overcome challenges makes his heart swoon

when you tilt your head when listening to him- omg. he might just short circuit from the way you’re looking at him intensely. 

he likes it a lot when you reach for his hand, enveloping your hand against his

an extra point if you pay extra attention to the callouses and scars on his hands— purposely rubbing a thumb across his scars

fixing his tie.

like.. [SIMP SCREAMS] he doesn’t really know how to fix it properly, but if you do it for him— he’ll start imagining a rather domestic life so BWNDNWNS warn him

mild spice here— but he loves seeing you fix your hero costume?? there’s something about it that makes him refuse to look away. he thinks you’re very hot btw

but the top tier? it’s when you get along with his mom, and children

like.. you don’t have to be good with them, but you should at least be nice to them! midoriya’s deal breaker is if you don’t get along with his mom so.. you really have to in this relationship

bakugou katsuki

when you put him back in his place- well.. let me explain this one

people are so easily intimidated by him, so people don’t talk at him when he says some shit

so he’ll be genuinely surprised if you talk back at him, because it shows him that you're not afraid of him (and that’s important in a relationship with bakugou) 

when you put his face in his palms. he’ll scowl and tell you off, but he actually likes holding your face in his palms

his hands are naturally clammy, so he’s secretly so insecure about them, and if you show him that you really don’t care- then.. that’ll keep him up at night. 

same thing with shouto, but if you run to him for warm in colder weathers, that’ll give him an ego boost. 

knowing that you’ll only look for him, whenever you feel cold makes him feel all “mushy” inside. again, like how bakugou is- he’ll pretend he absolutely despises it but he’ll actually love it.

mild spice here- but seeing you all worn out, panting under him when he spars with you is something that’ll leave him speechless for the rest of the day. man can’t stop thinking about it, and he has to restrain himself. 

last but not the least- it’s when you touch/play with his hair. 

YUUUP. 

so unexpected because he never lets anyone touch it, sometimes not even his own mother. 

but the only hands that are touching the ash blond mesh that is his hair is you. 

do whatever with them. create small braids, comb it, tie it with a scrunchy, straighten it. really- he has trust in you

he’s just so whipped when you do it, and it calms him down. 

kirishima eijirou

when you call him manly 🤠

and when you do things he considers as ‘manly’ like going out of your way to train your quirk— and helping him study for something he doesn’t quite get and when you succeed

another ‘manly’ thing is when you manage to encourage him— because he himself had confidence issues

so if you do that, he’ll be planning the wedding asap

whenever you just make grabby hands at his hair— wanting to style his hair

oh and if you wanted to redo his roots (if they grow back) then he’ll let you <3 because he absolutely adores it

when you start tracing his jawline when you’re staring at him. he was very caught off guard when you did this for the first time

but he absolutely loves the sensation.

stretching before any exercise! just the way you twist yourself with ease.. he’s mesmerized

he stares a little too much, to the point he gets called out by bakugou multiple times

a little spicy here — he likes your teeth. normal teeth, canine teeth, fangs, whatever!

doesn’t matter if you’re bite your lip, or runnig your tongue along the edge of a tooth. are you trying to seduce him?

he will be seduced 💀 face practically rivalling his faux red hair, trying to avert his gaze— thinking about how pretty you just looked like.

last but not the least!

back hugs. he’s such a fan of them, regardless if you’re taller than him, or shorter

surprise him, and he’ll turn around with this big dopey smile— and he’ll trap you in his arms

shinsou hitoshi

okay, if you randomly send him pictures of yourself (either your prettiest pictures, or the weirdest pictures) he’ll be so in love

like— just look at you! you’re gorgeous to him (saves every singe candid photo you’ve send him)

this is a really weird one but.. when you pick up things with your feet (bonus points if you do it with ease.)

when you start fixing your hair, doing whatever to it— he’s just in awe. (have you hypnotized him with your beauty?)

get him things for his hair like headbands, scrunchies, little barretts and pigtails

he’ll keep it in for as long as he can— since his hair is a little wild, a little braid or ponytail wouldn’t hurt, right?

spice warning (?) whispering into his ear makes his heart pound 10x faster like.. are you trying to kill him?

his quirk gave him a habit of listening to someone’s voice.. a little too much.

SO IF YOU WHISPER IN HIS EAR, HE’LL STOP FUNCTIONING :) do whatever with that info tbh

last but never the least— when you support him, and his journey to becoming a hero

because people have told him that he’ll never be a hero because his quirk was too villainy

nope. you think differently, and that’s what he thinks is most attractive about you.

the ability to support and believe him, even if his quirk seems a little misleading.

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei. i only own the writing.

do not plagiarize my work :))

#bnha imagines #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha imagines #bnha x y/n #bnha fluff #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki imagines #bakugou katsuki x reader #todoroki x y/n #todoroki x you #bakugou katsuki x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader #bakugou imagines #midoriya izuku x y/n #midoriya izuku x you #midoriya x reader #midoriya imagines #midoriya x you #midoriya x y/n #midoriya izuku x reader #kirishima eijirou x y/n #kirishima imagines #kirishima x reader #shinsou hitoshi x y/n #shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader

[kyberconfessions]

No Matter Where You Go, I Will Find You. part 3

Hi everyone! We have made it to Part 3! Thank you for coming on this wonderful journey with me. I have at least 6 chapters already written and the story will be longer than that. I appreciate all of your love and reblogs and everything you say about it. Seriously, I love you all. Also, I am toying with the idea of a Bad Batch x reader story AU. Let me know if there is any want for that. Thanks!!!

As always:

This will eventually be a 18+ older fic and will deal with anxiety, death, sex,  PTSD, murder, loss, found family, Order 66, and coming to terms. This is not just a fluff fic. It will very much be dealing with very dark and hard themes, so please, if that is something that can be too hard for you, don’t read.

Pairings: Rex x Reader x Cody (polyamory) I should say this is NOT a Rex x Cody fic. There will be ZERO Clonecest on this blog or story. Reader is a consensual relationship with Rex and with Cody. Yes they share, yes they will eventually have sex together, but Cody and Rex are NOT in a relationship nor will they be intimate.

Rating: 18+

TW: Death, Murder, infanticide, death of the Jedi, PTSD, Loss, Anxiety, eating disorders, sleep disorders, Order 66. I will add other things as I think about them

Part 3: Again

It had taken you longer to get to Hondo than you would have liked. But, of course he had to be by some out of the way planet, forgotten by most. You pride yourself on your extensive knowledge of the planetary systems, knowing obscure things that even had Master Yoda chuckling with delight. But this place? You had no idea where it was. It never showed up on any star chart and quite frankly you were fairly certain he gave you incorrect coordinates. But, still, you went there to meet him. You had to laugh to yourself when you saw his ship waiting for you, floating in the dead of space. Hondo was telling the truth. 

"Kriffing pirates," you mumbled to no one, chuckling as you started preparing your ship to dock with his. No matter how many star charts you studied, how many space lanes you memorized, he would always know more obscure things than you.

As you finished the docking sequence and began to enter his ship, you mulled over what he would want to show you. Something he was either desperate to have or knew you would want immediately. Something he wouldn’t risk saying over a commed link, even if it was secure.   Honestly if this was another wild goose chase he put you on for something he could find at any market stall on any of the core planets...well you wouldn’t do anything except grumble while you went and got it. You should hate the power Hondo had over you, but you didn’t. He never did anything to you out of ill will or because he could. Hondo was just eccentric. 

‘But…,’you couldn’t help think. But what if? What if? What if he finally found something you truly needed? 

     Could it finally be Cody’s helm? Or could it be a piece of Rex? You knew in your heart it wasn’t either of those, it never was, but still you hoped. Still you held on and asked the Force to give you just this one win. Just this once, let you have something of Rex. Anything would do. A pauldron, his Kama, a piece off of his belt, something, anything. You just wanted some piece of him to hold onto. You missed him so much. You missed them both, but where Cody could be hard and demanding and strict, Rex was soft and loving. He would hold your fingers in secret where Cody would just stand. Rex would let his hand linger on your shoulder a few seconds longer than need be, while Cody would just grunt in acknowledgement. Rex would praise you after training; Cody would demand perfection, pushing you harder than Obi-Wan ever would.  But when he would show you his love, Cody would love with the brilliance of a burning sun.

Hondo waved at you from the otherside of his door, giving you a flourished bow before opening the airlock. But as you walked in, your mind wandered, thinking to your lovers. 

You missed them both so much and you could use a few of their pep-talks, especially now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Obi-Wan and Anakin stood on the Training Observation Deck of the Negotiator, watching their Padawans work through a strenuous series of obstacles and training droids.

Cody and Rex stood on the sides of their respective Generals, watching as well.

Ashoka did well, flipping, moving, and swinging her saber with ease. Each of her targets went down with raw power, showing how strong she was getting. You, on the other hand, were tired and sore and not moving as quickly as you usually do. But, that was because Ashoka just came back off a week's leave from Coruscant and you had recently gotten shipside from a long and drawn out campaign with Foxtrot Group. You were exhausted when she was refreshed. But that didn't mean you could slack off in your training. You had to be stronger, you had to be better. You were Jedi, you would not fail.

Ashoka finished the trial a few seconds before you did, landing at the finish line on one foot. Just as you were about to execute your final flip, the training block shifted underneath you, causing your foot to slip. Before you could right yourself, a stun bolt hit you square in the back, knocking you down. You landed on the ground with a hard and loud thud, ending the exercise.

Obi-Wan watched as Ashoka went to help you up, feeling guilty for having you train. He knew you were tired and drained, but you had insisted on working with the other Padawan. He should have put his foot down and told you to get some sleep. But he didn't and here you all were. 

Anakin walked forward to the console and stopped the exercise, reseting it.

"Good job Snips, finally getting that barrel flip down.” He called over the comm. “Thank you, Master.” 

You were standing behind Ashoka as she spoke to her Master, dusting off your robes and massaging your neck, disappointed in yourself. You should have sensed that bolt coming, you should have been able to right yourself and finish the test. You stood there, mentally berating yourself so much that you didn't realize Obi-Wan had started to address you.

"It's alright Young One, you did excellent, but I fear your exhaustion has hindered your training for today. Why don't you go and eat and get some much needed rest and we can revisit this at a later time."

Obi-Wan, ever the loving caretaker, cursed himself for even allowing you to work in your state. You could have gotten seriously injured and where would that have put you? He knew in all honesty you should be in the medbay getting checked out and possibly doing a little time in a bacta tank.

But, Marshal Commander Cody thought differently. Ever the perfectionist, he would not accept this as the end of your session. With his bucket under his left arm, he walked up to the console and pressed the comm, calling you.

"No Jed'ika. Start over."

You looked up into the window of the viewing deck and saw him staring at you, eyes hard. The others looked on in mild concern and irritation. Obi-Wan was about to chastise his second, when he noticed you move to the beginning and prepare for another assault. You knew he was right, he always was. You could do better, you should be doing better, but you let your exhaustion lie to you. You weren’t so tired that you couldn’t finish this level. You’ve done this countless times, late in the evening, with Cody at your side. There was absolutely no reason you couldn’t finish it now.

Cody looked back to his General for a split second, as if looking for permission, before restarting the training exercise. This time, as you went though the course, you only made it halfway before failing again. There was a trick shot the training droids took that you weren’t prepared for and you took another bolt to your upper thigh. You were going to have an ugly bruise in a few hours.

Gingerly you stood, favoring your leg for a few seconds before shaking it off. Just another color added to your already mottled and scarred skin. 

As you went to stand, you saw the course reset once more and heard Cody’s voice over the comms, “Again.”

Rex didn’t like this, but he knew what Cody was doing. He knew if you were just pushed harder, if you were taken to your limit, you would not fail. He also knew that if you left the course without succeeding you would beat yourself up for days, feeling weak and useless. Rex didn’t like it, but he agreed. Obi-Wan watched on, focusing on your resilience and strength in the Force, humbled by his young Padawan. Anakin, on the other hand, didn’t like what was happening and felt that the Commander of the 212th was being too careless with your safety. This went on for some time, Cody would call for you to restart, you would fail, you would get up, and he would call again. Over and over and over. 

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Anakin had enough. “This is absurd! She’s clearly tired and needs rest. Hells, she needs time in the Medbay!” He walked up to the console and used his shoulder to push Cody out of the way, calling to you, “Padawan, you’re done now. Go straight to the Medbay. I want Kix to look you over.” He turned to Rex, “See she gets there, I don’t trust the Commander at the moment.”

Ashoka looked visibly uncomfortable from where she stood on the viewing deck and gazed up at Obi-Wan for any kind of reaction. He said nothing, just watching his Padawan try to get up off of the mat while pulling at the hairs in his beard. Before he could give the order for Cody to help take you to the medbay, Cody unceremoniously stomped over to the lift door and went down into the training room. They watched as he approached you and pulled you up, speaking harshly in a hushed tone to you.

You watched as Cody barreled towards you and crouched down at your eyelevel to look at you sternly. “Get up, Jed’ika. Get up. You don’t have time to wallow in your self pity. You don’t have time to lay here. You don’t have time to fail! Get up!” You listened to his words and tried to stand, but your knee where you had just taken a bolt gave out and you fell. Cody wrapped his hand around your bicep firmly and pulled you up.

“Each time you fail, another one of your men dies! You get up and you do it again! Each failure is another soldiers life gone! The men you swore to protect! Get up!” You nodded and stood on your own feet, albeit wearily. He was right. “You are a Jedi. You are not some clanker who falls over with the slightest push. You are better than this! You are better than your failure. You are Jedi. Do better. What is it that you’re always quoting from General Yoda? There is no try. You either do it, or you fail. And I do not accept failure! AGAIN.” Once he knew you were on stable legs, he stalked off to the sideline and prepared to yell at you more as you went through the program.

“Master, this is ridiculous! Cody has lost his mind! She’s too tired and needs medical attention.” Anakin was almost shaking; he was so upset. Who did Cody think he was? You were going to get seriously injured if you continued on. You needed rest and bacta, not constant berating and training. This wasn’t the way one taught a Padawan. This wasn’t the way Obi-Wan taught him.

 Obi-Wan quirked an eyebrow at Anakin and breathed loudly out his nose, removing his hand from his beard. “Yes, I do believe you are right, Anakin. It seems I have let this get out of hand.” He stood closer to the control panel, hand hovering over the comms, but instead of turning off the program, he restarted it and turned it to a higher level of intensity. Anakin balked.

 “Master! She’s going to get killed!” Ashoka cried out, looked to her Master and back to Obi-Wan, a strange feeling of anxiety sitting in her throat. It seemed through all the arguing and annoyances the Jedi were currently engaged in, they forgot about the Captain standing there, bucket under his arm, watching his brother and his Jed’ika. In his mind he kept a chant of ‘Come on, come on, you can do this.’ Over and over he thought, urging you to finish it. He wanted nothing more than in that moment to run down there and do as Cody was doing. He wanted to push you further, to push you to where he knew you could go. But he couldn’t, he was made to stand at ease and watch everything from the viewing deck. But, everything in him was down there on the mat with you, his most beloved, urging you to be better. The only thing on his mind was watching you finish this training exercise, going to your quarters to help you bathe, wrap your wounds, and finally making sure you ate a good meal. If he knew his brother, which he did, Cody was thinking the same thing.

You stood at the beginning once more and took a deep breath, hearing the mechanical beep signaling the beginning of the exercise. ‘Do better,’ you thought, before starting. You moved quickly through, dodging each blast, flipping and jumping higher and higher onto different ledges, using your saber to volley away bolts you could not dodge on your own, until you got to the point where you kept failing. Through the course, you could hear Cody yelling at you to keep going, keep moving, to not stop. You could hear him demanding excellence from you, he wanted more than what you thought you could give. He wanted perfection. It pushed you to go further, to work harder, to be better. You wouldn't fail your men and you wouldn't fail Cody. You dug deep into yourself and thought back to the training your former Master gave you, to that harsh and dangerous form. You could do it, you just had to concentrate. If you could find your center, you could toe that line made of shadows while still holding onto the light. You breathed deep, ‘allow your emotions to guide your strikes...feel that bubbling of anger and frustration, grab onto it to push you further. But do not give in. Just use it to fuel your power.’ Your old Master’s voice rang in your head, their training at the forefront of your mind. Multiple bolts fired at once, but instead of one landing a hit, you switched into Form VII, into Juyo. The most difficult saber form, Juyo was dark and dangerous, only used by those skillful Masters equipped with the knowledge of what it means to touch the Darkside and still stand in the Light. Used by your old Master.. taught to you by them in the shadows of Malachor… You shook your muscles out before jumping up against a wall structure, running its length with ease as more bolts were blocked. As you reached its end, you bounced over to the other wall and repeated the pattern, running and blocking, before twisting up onto its ledge. You stood, saber drawn across your body, balancing on the balls of your left foot as your right sat crossed on your thigh. You waited, breathing in and feeling the pulse of the machines across the Force. 

THERE. 

You flipped up, saber swinging around you in a figure eight, blocking each bolt back, volleying them towards the mechanical guns that sprang from the walls.

You landed once more in your previous spot before swan diving to the ground, landing with practiced grace and ease at the end, having finally completed the exercise. “Kark yeah!” Cody grunted, quickly walking to you. You had a tired smile on your face when he reached you.  He reached out to grab your shoulder, squeezing it gently, before letting his hand fall away just as quickly. You looked up at him with adoration. 

“I knew you could do it, Cyare,” he whispered, praising you, before taking a respectful stance, remembering that you were a superior and that you both were not alone. You nodded your thanks and tried to give him a look that said, "I love you". Hopefully he understood. He did.

Cody went to get you a towel to wipe your face as the others joined you on the mat. There were praises and excitement from the other Padawan, but both Obi-Wan and Anakin shared a look; they knew those moves. Knew that stance. A dangerous form like Juyo left unchecked could cause irreparable damage. It might be time for you to study a little under Master Windu if you are to continue in that form. Either way, Obi-Wan could feel the relief and happiness rolling off you, it could wait for another day. He also noticed a few feelings not very Jedi-like, aimed at the Marshall Commander and the Jaig-eyed Captain of the 501st. He quirked an eyebrow, but still he smiled his dazzling smile at you.

Obi-Wan was so proud of you, you felt giddy.  It was all you ever wanted, and you knew you had it. He was proud of you.You proved to yourself and your Master that you weren’t some weak kid playing at being a Jedi. You truly were one and no matter how tired or weary you were, you could finish what you started. 

Later that evening, after getting off duty, Rex made his way to your quarters, a tray of food in hand and a few bandages in the other. He hadn't even stopped at his bunk to change out of his armor. He went straight to the mess hall and then to you, wanting to check in.

When he approached your door, he knocked once before punching in your code, knowing he'd always be welcomed in. When the door slid open, he couldn't help but smile under his helmet at the sight. 

You were sitting on the edge of your desk, freshly showered, robes put away, wearing loose, grey, linen pants and a black smallshirt. Cody was also freshly showered and in clean blacks, his armor stacked neatly by your bed. He sat in your chair, positioned between your legs, wrapping scrapes and cuts from the campaign and the training from earlier in fresh bandages, rubbing bacta on your bruises, and whispering words of praise and love to you.

Beside you both were 3 trays of untouched food, waiting to be consumed; one for you, one for Cody, and one for Rex. 

Rex entered, letting the door slide closed behind him, a soft smile on his lips. He placed the extra tray of food next to the others, took off his bucket, and dropped a kiss to the top of your head before heading to your small refresher. When he exited, loose towel around his waist, Cody’s head was already buried between your naked thighs.

That night you all had the best sleep in ages, you sandwiched between the two men, tangled in sheets and their limbs, finally able to be together after so long apart. None of you would trade it for the world. 

#cody x reader #cody x reader x rex #Marshall Commander Cody #rex x reader #captain rex #rebels!rex x reader #angst #Reader is an Ex!Jedi #reader is now a bounty hunter #Hondo Ohnaka #Hondo is your best friend #Dad!Obi-Wan x Padawan!Reader #Anakin Skywalker doesn't know how to NOT big brother #Asohka Tano #Anakin might hate Cody

[previousloversandmuses]

Slow Burn - Prologue

Part I | masterlist

A/N: This is a “must read” precursor to the whole series. Please read it to know what the origin story is. 

Pairing: Y/N x Obi Wan Kenobi

Words: 2048

Warnings: None. Brief mentions of violence. Low self esteem.

I am always one to experience emotions at a heightened frequency. Dangerous for a Jedi in training I know, but the council never took it as a sign of caution, just a minor set back. Happiness is bright, and beaming, even painful. My cheeks hurt for days after, smile lines sculpting my skin too early in life. Anger is powerful, my skin becoming vicious, and hot. Ripping through me like a silver bullet, and tearing my already unrelenting gut apart. I am loud, I am violent, and most of all, passionate. I would later become grateful of this curse, turning it into a blessing. Sadness is so deep. Tears crash like an ocean, and my heart would ache in my chest. The physical symptoms of my despair become overwhelming, and make me sick.

A fresh eighteen myself, my graduation is only a year or so away. Compared to other padawans, ones that don’t deal with the same struggles as myself, have already been graced with knighthood. They make their masters proud, and have already completed more missions at sixteen than I think I ever will in my entire career. 

I had the choice to become independent, to take my morals by the throat, and shove them deep down inside me, never to be seen again- but it really just isn’t that easy. See, I’m taking this time for meditation, or even a “behavioral therapy” of sorts. I have meetings with other council members, more powerful, and more prominent than my own master, who is often off tending to matters elsewhere. A mighty general he is, but they see me as someone who would cause more of a distraction, so I stay here at the temple left to my own devices. Sometimes I think it may be because I’m a woman, and other times I just take a good look in the mirror and recall the outburst that has stained my face only minutes before. 

Today was like any other; wake up, meditate, exercise, study, combat training, study, try and find time to eat something, and study. I walked down the main hallway with Master Yoda. He spoke to me about how he once struggled with his emotions as well, but with enough meditation, learned how to keep them at bay. Looking down at him and his vacant expression, I was surprised he had ever even felt an emotion a day in his life. That was until seconds later…

Stopping in my tracks, my hand flew over my heart. I recalled feeling out of breath, like my heart had physically stopped beating in my chest, or at least was trying to catch up with the rest of my body. I was shaky, yet somehow managed to take a knee. Something was off, that feeling in my chest grew and grew until I was faced with the blackest black I had ever felt. The darkest emotion to ever run through my body, as cold as ice, and heart stopping. It was deep, I felt it within the darkest abyss in my soul. It wrapped around my insides and nestled itself a home deep within the most shielded corners of my subconscious. That’s when Master Yoda felt it too. His hand flying over his heart, and steadying himself on my own shoulder. His face morphed into a snarl, gasping at the sudden pain that now infected his unwavering calm aura. 

...

After a painstakingly slow recovery, I sat on the edge of my bed. My quarters were neat and tidy. My bed, usually made up in the morning, because I have always been one for a routine. My walls weren’t bare, in fact they were almost completely covered in photographs I have taken from my travels as a Padawan. I'd go to the library, and butcher borrowed books, clipping photos of different words, and alien fauna. But today, those bright colors capable of producing fantasies for hours and hours, seemed black and white. 

I had been staring at the floor for sometime, desperate in trying to heal the ache in my chest. It felt as if I had a cold, like the burn after a deep cough. I felt so tight, so tense, an actual living embodiment of rigor mortis. Yet, at the same time, I hardly felt all there. It was as if my existence was floating all around me, and my shell was sitting vacant on an uncomfortable mattress. The knock on my door was enough for me to engulf myself again. 

“Y/N, are you decent?” The voice asks. 

“Yes,” I reply, rolling my shoulders back. 

“The council has requested an audience. Please report downstairs within the next few minutes.”

I nod my head, as if whoever was behind the door could see me. 

“An audience,”  I think. “Let’s add another year to that training plan, shall we?”

...

Walking downstairs to the council room, I can’t help but feel that all eyes are on me. They cut through me like a hot knife, slicing me thin. I feel so vulnerable. Like everyone around me can feel what I feel, and if I’m being honest, they probably do. A good Jedi who is in tune with the force, and especially in tune with others, can sense an intense emotion from a mile away. I’m sure at this moment I pretty much equate to an open book. No reason to try and hide it, force knows I struggle with concealing even an inkling of agitation. 

Seeing the council room in sight, I take a deep breath. This is it. I’m done for. This reaction was way too over the top. I’ve scared people, I’ve scared Master Yoda. Might as well just turn in my saber now and call it a day.

I walk into the door. Only a few masters sit scattered around. Master Yoda of course perched dead center, Master Windu waiting patiently to his right. But my master was nowhere in sight. You’d think if they were going to terminate me, that maybe my own mentor would be among them? Shaking his head, sending me glares that one could only compare to fucking daggers. He was tough on me for sure, maybe he was too ashamed of what I’d done to even bear to see me in this moment. 

“Coming here so quickly you did,” Starts Master Yoda. “Grateful we all are.”

I smile and bow my head. 

“Y/N,” Master Windu starts. “We’re here to discuss the events that happened earlier.” 

Oh god here it comes. This is it. I’m totally done for. I can’t even keep myself calm now. My face, getting hotter and more red by the second, is going to be the biggest tell. At least let me go out with some dignity. 

“Your reaction, what you felt at least, was not just brought on out of the blue. Master Yoda had the same experience, as did all of us on the council, and most Jedi and padawans in the temple.”

“I don’t understand.” I say. 

“At around 1 Coruscant time, an enemy bomb was detonated on Nal Hutta.”

Then it hit me. My heart sinking, I began to shake my head. 

“Unfortunately, Unit 505, and Master Cato were all killed on impact.”

My ears ring. Slowly, I move over to a chair, bracing myself. 

“That’s,” I start, trying to find the words to say. “He would’ve felt it, all of them would, I don’t understand.”

“We have a feeling it was planted by a Sith. That’s the only way it would’ve clouded any judgement.”

I slump into it, my vision going black, my head spinning. 

Master Cato has been with me since I was a very little girl. Although rough, tough, and brutally honest, he has done nothing but be a father to me time and time again. Everything I do is a reflection of him. He had been so busy at war, fighting day in and day out, I caught myself missing the commands, and demands I once so passionately despised. I took our whole relationship for granted, and now, is this the price I have to pay? The last time we spoke he told me how disappointed he was in my outburst in my Alien Fauna lab. I was being stubborn, I was bratty, and rolled my eyes. We had argued that entire call. He didn’t even attempt to say goodbye. Now, for an eternity, I will have to face the catastrophic guilt of my actions. Live with the fact that I never, ever told him how much I appreciated him. And even, how much I loved him so. The closest thing to family in my life, gone, in the snap of a finger. 

Both Master Yoda and Master Windu continued to talk but it all felt like empty words. I couldn’t hear them anyway. 

“Although this situation isn't ideal, we and the rest of the council applaud you for being able to feel something most of us haven’t been able to experience yet.” Claimed Master Windu.

I don’t listen. I stand up again. 

“What am I going to do? I don’t feel comfortable with being knighted yet. I had- we were working on so many things I-,” I stumbled on my words. 

“You’ll get placed with a new master.”

“There are no new masters. And even if I had been trained a certain way, I don’t know how to learn otherwise.” 

There is silence. 

“The force works in mysterious ways. Meant to happen, I feel.” 

I scoff. “Meant to happen,” what an evil thing to say.

I begin to walk off, stopping of course, only to get in the last word. 

“Not only have you told me that my master has been killed, but you lack any empathy. There is no emotion in your eyes. Nothing.”

“We mourn your master y/n, just as much as you do. You know what we stand for. You know our view on attachments.”

“He's like-,” I choke. “He was like my father.”

I can’t even begin to explain the pain I feel. Disgust in myself, I should’ve been better. I could’ve been better. The last few years of our relationship I’ve just been behaving poorly and rebelling, and then getting angry at him when he made me face the consequences. Like I wasn’t aware of the job I was made to do. I should’ve been nicer, I could’ve been nicer. It’s all going in a circle, all the things I should’ve done just morphed into things I couldn’t do. Maybe I was too emotional. Maybe my tears that fell leading up to this moment was all part of the plan, the final kicker to show that I wasn’t apathetic enough for this job. My empathy, my burning passion will always be my biggest flaw. This hole that gapes inside of me will never be filled, and now it grows bigger. It’s like a disease. Am I enough? Will I ever be enough?

“Put you with Master Kenobi, we will.” States Master Yoda. 

Master Windu is quick in turning his head. He glares at him. 

“Master Yoda, General Kenobi has just finished his training with Anakin. It is far too early to give him a new Padawan, if at all.”

Yoda nods, almost giggling. 

“Yet so freshly knighted, a Padawan Anakin already has. Obi Wan will have no problem with taking on a student. Graduates soon, she will.”

“But General Kenobi and I have two completely different methods of combat, let alone ideals.” I scoff. 

“All Jedi have the same ideals.” Adds Windu. 

“He is a Jedi guardian, I am a Jedi sentinel-“

“Train with General Kenobi you will. Not long ago he also lost his master too soon.”

Master Yoda nods to me. He stands up and walks over to the large windows behind him. Looking out over Coruscant, he takes a deep sigh of relief. 

“Master Windu,” says Yoda. “Get in contact with the 212th battalion.” 

I watch on as my fate now rests in a stranger's hands.

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi smut #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan fic #anakin skywalker #anakin x obi wan #ahsoka tano #star wars #star wars smut

[sophlubbwriting]

Shifting to your arms - 02

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary: This is a slice-of-life series where you, the reader successfully shifted realities with the goal to spend time with Loki. Nothing too intense.

A/N: I was quite scared to write a fight scene, especially since my knowledge about actual fights was... limited... but here it is! I hope y'all like it!

Feel free to shoot me a request and I'll see what I can do!

Taglist: @gingerspicetalks​ @adoreyou976​

Feedback is always appreciated!

Chapter Summary: Fight training with the god of mischief. There isn’t much else to it.

Chapter warnings: fight training, self doubts, Loki being Loki

Word count: 2016

9:50pm.

Lucky for you, a pair of black sweatpants plus an oversized zip-up hoodie just waited for you in your wardrobe.

You couldn’t waste any more time and felt comfortable with your choice of clothes, so you opened the door and stepped out on the hallway. The whole tower felt more silent than it had been a few hours earlier which might be caused by the time Loki had picked. Everyone was following their respective evening routine, but it isn't too late to be seen in the corridors.

While strutting to the gym, you checked whether you had everything with you. You got a bottle of water, that's it. After all, what else did you need?

Contemplating your choice, you were doubting yourself. Would Loki be a good teacher? What would he teach you? He is a true genius when in regards to all things magic, he was also a master manipulator, but the god of mischief doesn't seem like someone well-versed in hand to hand combat.

However, Loki really seems to love his daggers. Honestly, it's kind of weird how he isn't the god of daggers as well, it would surely be a fitting title. Maybe you can somehow convince him to give you a dagger and show you how to fight with it.

Receiving one of Loki's truly beautiful daggers sounds like a great idea, but it would probably hit too close to home for Loki. Giving someone their dagger, is a huge tradition in Asgard connected with courting someone after all.

So, looks like you won't get a dagger.

As you entered the gym, the smell of new gym mats and sweat flew in your face, but what ended up taking your breath away was the backside of someone's infamous asgardian combat clothing. Why was he standing there? Has he been pacing up and down while waiting for you? You couldn't help but smile at the thought of him waiting for you impatiently.

“Oh look at that, right on time. I didn't expect that  from a midgarian.”

Of course Loki would talk down on you based on your midgarian heritage, that was predictable. It would have been out of character if he didn't, honestly.

He sighed and he finally turned around, a hint of a smirk was still visible on his face.

“But at last you're here, so let's...”

Slowly mustering you, he took a moment to finish his sentence, dropping his smirk.

“...begin. Is that what midgarians deem as 'fashionable'?”

And with it the grin you wore was washed away. His mischievous tone vanished rather quickly, causing you to feel quite self aware. Your confidence from earlier? Gone, just like that.

His words hurt you more than you anticipated, but you tried your best to hide your vulnerability.

In an attempt to defend your choice in clothes, you told him that you valued comfortability over style. “Unlike you, I don't have to dress to impress.” you added. Scrunching his nose the god wanted to drop another sassy comment, but he decided otherwise.

You shook your head. Being still a bit salty after his rude comment, you voiced your doubts.

“Honestly, I don't know anymore if you were the correct choice.”

Nothing.

You both just stood there and looked into each others eyes. For a second you thought Loki's eyes looked... disappointed?

The silence was unbearable, but neither of you knew what to say, until Loki found his voice again.

“Pardon me?” he asked, finally breaking the silence after what felt like hours, but could have been only seconds.

In an effort to do some sort of damage control, you couldn't stop yourself from rambling and explaining yourself.

“You're an awesome sorcerer and I can't even imagine what you're capable of doing with those... those daggers, but... how much do you actually know about hand to hand combat?”

Now, he stopped being disappointed, if he ever was. He chuckled and started acting offended:

“I know my magic abilities are... out of this world, but I can assure you I have earned my fair share of experience in hand to hand combat.”

“But having experience doesn't mean you're good”, you intervened his arrogant praise with a sly smirk. Having seen a glimpse of emotional vulnerability in his eyes, you felt oddly calm around him. Your newly found confidence manifested itself in one sassy comment after another. “If I recall correctly, Valkyrie easily bested you.”

“Why don't you go ask Valkyrie for help then?” Loki asked boldly.

“Touché.”

Just like that, you both stepped into the boxing ring.

“I would assume I'd have to explain the basics to you first, now.”, Loki exclaimed whilst spreading his arms. “Everyone has their very own distinct style. Whereas Valkyrie” - he made sure to stress that name derogatorily - “likes to show off and tends to pride herself with... well, everything she possibly can, whereas I personally-”

“You prefer debating, silver-tongue. I get it.” you taunt him with a smirk. He didn't seem touched by your commentary. While you rolled your eyes, the god of mischief continued his speech.

“It's usually easier to complete the missions stealthily or to talk yourself up the ranks. Infiltrating the enemy, that's my speciality. You shouldn't underestimate the power of subtlety.”

You knew he was good, but you couldn't help yourself but to keep teasing him. To see him mildly annoyed filled you with joy, letting him taste his own medicine, although you felt as if you started to understand, why he made the comments he made.

“Is that because you can't-”

Loki requited your comment so quick, you hadn't the opportunity to finish it. The next thing you knew was how your back hit the floor and you saw Loki towering over you.

“First lesson: You shouldn't aggravate your opponent unnecessarily, you might end up with a... disadvantage.” He emphasized the last word with his raspy voice, not imaginable what he was alluding to.

With a slightly hurt pride you stood up again. “You're quick.” you stated the obvious. Acting like you would know more than you did, you put your fists up and in front of your face the way you saw it in movies often. The adrenaline rushed through your veins, you could feel it, and you glared at the god in front of you.

With a quick jab, you aimed for his stomach and were sure to hit, but with a swift step he avoided your punch altogether. Astounded by his quick movement, you weren't able to retrieve your arm quick enough to protect yourself from his counter.

He grabbed your arm and stepped a foot behind your leg. In one fluid motion your legs were kicked up and you were sent flying with an involuntarily backflip. Lucky for you, your forearms were at least quick enough to protect your face.

“Oh dear, you really don't know anything about fighting, do you?”

With an exasperated groan you pushed yourself up, back on your feet. This was way more exhausting than you thought it'd be. With heavy breaths you assessed the situation for the first time.

Loki was way quicker than you, a surprise attack wouldn't work. A feint attack? He'd probably still be quick enough to evade, if not counter. But what if...

“Al...right” you panted demotivated. “I...” and you fell forward and followed through with your plan.

Loki's reflexes forced him to catch you. Predictable. You slithered your arms around his neck, adjusted your position and swung your legs around his waist. Due to the momentum of your legs you were able to make the god stumble, but it wasn't enough to make him fall yet.

In your books, that was a win. Not only have you been able to make contact at will, you have successfully tricked the god of trickery.

Who would've imagined that thinking before doing something would ever turn out to be so efficient?

Of course he was quick to push you off and have you land on the floor again, but that wasn't enough to negate the sense of achievement that was flooding your mind.

You didn't even try to hide the grin.

“I have tricked you” you joyfully retold the event, small giggles escaping your lips.

“I'm still standing” he nonchalantly stated. While he wasn't wrong, you felt like you made progress.

“But I made you stumble.”

After a few more rounds of your attacks and some sparse tries to defend yourself, you didn't have any more energy to focus on fight training. It must have been midnight already, two hours filled with training have passed. Your zip-up hoodie was thrown in a corner, discarded a while ago as you felt like you were sweating too much, and you had revealed the plain t-shirt you wore underneath.

“Alright, my dear, I think this is the time to finalize the conditions of our little deal.” Loki tried to conceal his heavy breathing and knelt down next to you, not bothering helping you up. Reluctantly you sat up and told him to go on.

“Since you want to learn how to fight properly, we'll have to train more often, however I am not going to do so without... compensation.”

This simple sentence rang alarm bells in your head, especially since you are already planning on baking a cake which you intended to be enough. There was no way he had forgotten it already.

“You can't have forgotten it already.” You shot him a quick glance as he followed up with something that lead you to believe he was planning something.

“Lemon cake, I didn't forget, but I'm afraid that won't be enough for all lessons, darling. Let's just say... you owe me. Plus, today I was just assessing your skills. I have yet to show you a few exercises to train for yourself.”

Scrunching your nose at his not very concise proposal, you decided to bluff an told him you were just going to ask someone else to teach you, if he was being serious, but to no avail Loki saw right through it. He proclaimed “If I were you, I wouldn't do that. I figured you would prefer me to keep these interactions a secret, wouldn't you?”

The god of mischief clearly had the upper hand in this negotiations.

Albeit you were visibly displeased by his threat to tell everyone you couldn't fight, you gave him your final reply with a scoff.

“Well, I don't really have much of a choice now, do I?”

There it was. That mischievous twinkle you saw in his eyes earlier, paired with a smirk. You don't know how, but you couldn't stay mad at him. You just couldn't.

You shook your head and smirked again. “It almost feels like I just sold my soul.”

Surprising to you, Loki tried to calm you down. Did he think you were actually afraid of losing your soul to him?

“Don't worry, my dear, even if it would be possible to separate one's body from one's soul, I would never intend to steal yours. Quite frankly, I wouldn't even know, what to do with it!”

He even put his hands up in front of him to show you, he wasn't trying to 'grab your soul' or something. It looked rather adorable and made you laugh, which left Loki staring at you confused.

You were contemplating whether you should explain it to him in full, but ultimately decided against it, it would take too long. Instead, you said the next best thing. “I was kidding, Loki!”

After some more laughing you asked him what has been on your mind since you sealed the deal.

“So, when will we meet again?”

The raven haired god turned to you and thought about it for a second while looking at you. You looked in his eyes for longer than you should have, but the answer he gave you with a smirk was quick to grab your attention.

“Tomorrow, same time. If you want to see me only at the gym, that is.”

You copied his smirk with a quick glance at lips.

“You'll see.”

#loki x reader #MCU loki #loki odinson #Loki Laufeyson #loki #loki series #loki mcu #mcu #mcu imagine #fanfiction #loki fanfic #x reader #sophlubbwriting #loki x you #loki x y/n #tom hiddleston #shifting to your arms

[morvantmortuary]

Every time you answer an ask about how the Morvants would help you (with depression/anxiety/transphobic asshole parents) I would like to give you a kiss on the nose and the head (the Morvants too), you are doing the lords work and I want you to know that ot always, always makes my day and makes me smile, thank you

Aww, nonny. This is really, really kind of you to say. 🖤🖤🖤 Thank you so much, genuinely. 🥺

I’m really glad other people can find some comfort in my family of serial killers (as much as I always laugh to myself when I type that 😂). I don’t see a point in making characters to explore the darker sides of romance if they aren’t going to be supportive of all the parts of you, always, even the parts you yourself may find difficult. As someone who’s dealt with each of those things in a way (at least some depression, major anxiety, and being nbi/gq in a family that still calls me feminine things on the regular - not meanly, but it can still be exhausting), it’s also a great exercise for me too, in a way. I think there’s something powerful in thinking about how you like to be comforted and cared for, and what those things mean to you on a deeper level. I’m not with anybody irl, but I like to think that knowing how I would like to be loved might be useful in the meantime.

It’s also just a great way to explore the Morvants on a softer note - there’s an inherent sharpness to each of them in the magic they work with and what they have to do to keep it alive (*ba dum tssh*), so getting to figure out how they would care for the people they loved, and why they know how to live in the ways that they do, is always something that’s not only soothing to write, but fun.

But most importantly, I’m really glad I can do something for a minute for the people who are kind enough to ask. I know some words on a screen isn’t a a whole heck of a lot when you’re dealing with something heavy, but I appreciate each person who puts something in my inbox to ask. Asking for comfort, even a little, takes bravery that we don’t always recognize, because it means recognizing that you’re hurting. And I know that sounds super cheesy, but I still have problems sometimes acknowledging when I’m hurting because then it means I have to deal with it, you know? The anons who are sweet enough to send me a question already have a leg up on me there, and I’m always honored to give something admittedly pretty small to that. 🖤 I feel bad when I can’t get to them right at that exact moment, but I always hope when I can, they still find it when they need it.

I didn’t mean to hurgle all over your kind ask, nonny, but I wanted to return the nose and forehead kisses as best I could. 🥰 I love y’all, the Morvants would absolutely adore all of y’all, and if there’s anything we can ever do to make things a little better, we’d be happy to. ♥️♥️♥️

#nice people #nonny!! #really though if I’m gonna be sitting here tapping away on my phone all day #making things suck even a little less is literally the least I can do #so I’m always happy and honored when someone gives me the opportunity 🖤

[icyteaa]

Fandom: Trash of the Count's Family

Title: Tangled with Them

Premise: Cale had a peaceful and quiet life until suddenly two jobless wraiths annoyed him and nagging him to do this and that like annoying uncles they are.

Tags: Reincarnation, Senior High School AU

Relationship: Kim Rok Soo | Cale Henituse & Lee Soo Hyuk & Choi Jung Soo, Kim Rok Soo | Cale Henituse & everyone

Rating: Teen

Part: 2/?

Part 0 Part 1

_

[The Fragrance of Tea with Poetry]

It was a cafe that allowed you to read poems and novels while drinking many variants of drink, especially tea. It was a three-story building that was arranged in front of Roan High School. Allowed students and workers in the nearby place to get rest in this quiet and pleasant place as they end their school and work time.

Cale took a like to this cafe in his first attempt to visit. Cale sat up near the window on the third floor with a novel in his right hand. Let out a satisfied sigh because of the calm atmosphere that he finally gets after the second day of chaotic high school.

It was very likely because of yesterday's incident. The girls whispering in the hallway, the boys getting more chaotic as if they want to impersonate that vicious boy action; everyone's attention was stolen to the boy who successfully made a boring ceremony for something else.

Even Cale, who really didn’t want to know anything about that boy, took a few facts about how yesterday's incident ended and who was actually that boy forcefully, because everyone in his class was discussing it with rather high volume.

First, that boy's name is Choi Han. It was a really weird name, like a foreigner. Moreover, the fact he had black hair made it more obvious that he wasn’t from Roanna City. But the actual information about his birthplace is left unknown. His classmates didn’t know why either. They said the teachers won’t talk about it as if it's secret information.

Second, he is—unfortunately—really a new student in Roan High School and unfortunately enough, he is supposed to be Cale's classmate. But because Choi Han made a commotion in the opening ceremony before, now he has been suspended 3 days from today.

Maybe Cale should be grateful because he couldn’t meet him in 3 days, but how about after that? He really wanted to move to another class to just avoid Choi Han and even tried to make a deal with his homeroom teacher, Eruhaben-nim, but immediately got rejected because Cale didn’t have a good reason for moving.

'As if my life isn’t a good reason', Cale snorted when he got kicked out of his homeroom teacher’s room. But he didn’t express it out loud because he realized that his homeroom teacher didn’t seem like a good teacher either. He has a heavy atmosphere around him that makes him look vicious.

So he stopped arguing. He didn’t want to get out of the tiger’s den just to walk into the lion’s den instead because he made his homeroom teacher annoyed.

Cale got up from his couch after finishing his second glass of sweet honey tea. Looks down to the road in front of the cafe and nodding satisfied with the first arrival to this cafe. He had noted this place to be the place he wanted to visit whenever he felt tired after school. He will tell his driver to pick him up later than usual so he can visit this cafe first, just like today.

After checking the time on his smartphone and finding it was already time to go home, he walked downstairs light heartedly. Pay his bill to the cafe’s owner (that he internally called like piggy bank but utterly called him with proper attitude as Billos-nim outside) before getting out of the building.

“Meoooow.”

“Meeooww.”

Cale jolted when he suddenly found two small figures in his foot. They were kittens with grey and red fur. It is a surprisingly rare colour for cats to have, but he didn't have time to appreciate it because the fur is really dirty and that dirty now sticking to his trouser.

Cale sighed. The kittens are definitely hungry and try to make him give them food. Cale tried to avoid the big golden eyes they had and waited for the traffic light for pedestrians to turn green. But unfortunately, the volume meowing the kittens let out increased and made other pedestrians around him glance at him with any expression that Cale didn't want to know.

Of all the people standing there, why is Cale the one they approach anyway?? The piercing gaze the people gave increasing as the meowing voice. And as the one who likes to stand low and just relax in a quiet place, this kind of situation is really worse. Cale frowning. Sigh once again before walking back slowly. The kittens following him and deep in his unconscious he worried these small and skinny creatures would get step by the pedestrians.

Cale walked to the restaurant that is right next to the cafe he visited before. He didn't want to get more bothered with these tiny creatures that amazingly had a loud voice. He frowned again in front of the restaurant before looking down and found the kittens still sticking to his feet. "Hey," Cale called. The kittens' head now looks up to his face. "Just wait here. Don't follow me in."

It would be bad if the workers saw the dirty cat in their restaurant, Cale thought. But in another seconds, he felt stupid too to try talking with kittens. The kittens, however, stop meowing and sit up next to his foot while their eyes are still looking at his face. As if they understand what Cale said before.

Cale felt baffled, there was a pause in his voice before he added, "Wait me there." He pointed to a place beside the front door. And the kittens wagging their tails happily before doing what he said. Cale's mouth opened a bit, amazed. He shook his head and walked fast to the restaurant. It looks like he is so tired and thinks too much. There is no way the kittens understand human language.

Cale ordered two chicken roasted without salt and came out of the restaurant after taking the bag of chicken he ordered. The kittens were really waiting for him in the place Cale had pointed at, but he didn't want to think about it more. He walked to the alley between the cafe and restaurant and set up the bag to be plate for warm chicken roasted.

"Eat a lot. And don't come find me again."

Cale crouch down and look at the kittens eating the chicken at a fast pace as if they are starved days, which is likely to be true. He barely wanted to stand up and walk away before they finished the meal, but Cale jolted again after feeling a vicious gaze shot out towards him.

His face naturally turned to the left where the gaze came from and flinched when he realized there was someone in the shadow back in the alley.

It's Choi Han. It's definitely the boy he saw yesterday. He didn't even change his uniform from yesterday. But compared to the neat and clean uniform yesterday, all of those seemed completely ruined in one day. And Cale didn't want to imagine just what the hell happened to this boy.

But now, that murderer's gaze shot out towards him. Cale immediately turned to the front again. Gulped as he felt goosebumps in his nape.

Isn't Cale very unlucky today? After glued with two loud kittens, now he has this vicious boys gaze and wary towards him? I am just weakling who didn't want to harm or even want get near you, please spare me. Cale mourning. He felt he should plea so he could move from this position.

Cale gulped again as the gaze felt more intense piercing his head and it made him sweat a lot on his face. Does he want my money? Cale imagined the boy would do what thugs always do. Well, yes, it's better than having body beaten up to pulp like the man he saw yesterday. Cale nodded as he firmed his result. Let's lure him to spare me with my money. He thought before he said, "Hey."

There is no answer.

"Are you hungry too?" Cale asked something again, but still, there is no answer.

"I can give you food too." And money if you insist, so please stop staring at me with that vicious glare. Cale added in his head. But still there is no answer.

Cale wanted to run away. But compared to the power of the boy who dragged another human without a problem, he certainly will not make it. He rarely does physical exercise, so he sure just running a bit will make him tired with this feeble body.

"Young master-nim, what did you do here?"

Cale never knew there would come times he felt relieved because of this voice. He immediately turned to the left and found his butler with ginger hair colours looking at him who sweated a lot in front of cats with a puzzled face.

Cale jolted and stood promptly and reached out his hand to the butler's shoulders. His eyes finally saw his own car that always picked him up to school just a few meters from here. "This is my Butler," Cale explained again even if there was no answer from the vicious boy. "You can tell him what you need and Hans will help you."

Hans stiffened when he realized another presence back in the alley. He then peaked at Cale with a confused face. Cale smiled a bit, felt his path of runaway finally opened wide. And now, he can at least make this butler struggle a bit as his revenge because Hans always annoys him. He isn't really worried about his butler being. After all, even if he looked as feeble as Cale, Hans had learned about martial art.

There was no answer from the boy, but Cale didn't care as he immediately walked toward the car after telling Hans he could go home with taxi after taking care of business here. He finally breathed after he went into the car. And the car shortly left the place and left Hans with a sad expression as he saw the car disappear.

What Cale didn't know is, what he did today will be the beginning of misunderstanding everyone had about his personality and he abruptly should denied the title The Kind Young Master because of his 'deed'.

_

Two half transparent men saw the car left with a giggle and snicker expression. One of the men commented with a fond in his face, "He is still softies as ever even if he thinks he is not, isn't it?"

Another man chuckled again, "Well, that's our Rok Soo."

The man who made the first comment paused a bit. There is pain in his eyes but quickly disappeared, "It's Cale now."

The other men stopped smiling too. He looked towards the place where the car was parked before. "Yeah … he is Cale now." The man turned to his friend and hyung with a rather sad expression, "You really think this is the best thing we can do?"

His hyung nodded with firm expression. "Yes, we shouldn't make him remember again. But at least, we can talk to him to a certain extent. Isn't that enough?"

"Yeah, that's enough." The two of them who share the same pain and worries fall silent for a few moments, before their half transparent form disappears without traces.

_

[Tbc.]

#trash of the count's family #lout of count’s family #tcf #cale henituse #alberu crossman #choi han #on #hong #raon #hans #tcf fanfic #tcf modern au #tcf high school au #tcf reincarnation au #Kim Rook Soo #lee soo hyuk #choi jung soo #trio soos

[ladykissingfish]

Under the Mistletoe with the Akatsuki // Part Eight // Kakuzu

What is with this group and wasting their free time doing such inane and pointless things? The old guy can think of at least 50 other activities (the majority of which involve making money) that everyone could be doing, rather than lining up to kiss each under a little green plant. When it’s his turn in the spotlight, he tries as hard as he can to back out of his “obligation” ... but Pein (and Kakuzu’s own persistent partner, Hidan) insist that Kakuzu participate. Kakuzu sighs and nods; he’s smart enough to know when he’s been defeated. However, Pein should know that Kakuzu will be adding a little extra money to his paycheck that week, for “hazard pay”.

Pein

Nagato was more interested in Kakuzu joining his group than any of the others. Immortality, money-sense, expertise and wisdom ... this is the man who survived the wars of the past. This is the man who survived the mighty Hashirama, God of all shinobi. Still, Nagato is no fool; he realizes that Kakuzu’s number one priority in life isn’t the Akatsuki, but money. Kakuzu would probably (and had likely thought about) betray them all in exchange for a tidy sum. So Nagato (as Pein) works to keep Kakuzu content enough to remain loyal, including making him the group’s treasurer and giving him complete control over everyone’s finances. And Kakuzu remains highly useful; strategizing, completing missions twice as fast (and ten times as efficient) as his younger teammates. Pein approaches Kakuzu and gives him a light kiss on the forehead, before returning to his room. He reminds himself to speak to Kakuzu later; he has some ideas about weapons he’d like to procure for the group, and needs to see if it would be financially feasible to do so.

Konan

Kakuzu genuinely likes Konan, and appreciates her company. Many men of Kakuzu’s generation were raised on the belief system that women were solely meant to be wives, child-bearers, and home-makers; to call a female a ninja was deemed unthinkable. But Kakuzu was a rarity in that he never saw this as being the case; man or woman, one’s inner strength was all that mattered in regards to being a shinobi. He’s spoken with Konan at length about her childhood, and the trauma she endured, and he knows that this little blue-haired lady is a sight tougher than a LOT of people (and Kakuzu’s met quite a few in his long life). Konan walks up to him and he smiles; it’s rare for Kakuzu to smile, but Konan brings it out of him. “Good evening, Kakuzu-san. I think it’s my turn.” He nods, and slips off his mask so that his lips are exposed. He leans down and very, very gently kisses her cheek. Her blushing skin is soft and her smile is beautiful as she thanks him and steps away, to let the next person go.

Kisame

Nobody knows this about Kakuzu (and he fears he would be mocked if they did), but the old guy puts a lot of emphasis on the idea of exercise. Five hearts is a lot of responsibility, and staying healthy is how Kakuzu intends to keep living forever. So every night, when the others are asleep and after he’s done with his reading, he’ll spend some time in his room exercising. One night Kisame passed by his open door and saw him using a pair of heavy books as make-shift weights. The next evening Kisame came to Kakuzu’s room with a set of real barbells , which he casually gave to Kakuzu with the admonition not to overdo it. Kakuzu greatly appreciated the gesture (and the unspoken support), and the two have been good friends ever since. But ... a kiss between them would just be too strange, so Kisame comes up with a better option: an arm-wrestling match, Kisame grabs the kitchen table and two chairs and sets them up under the mistletoe. Of course the rest of the Akatsuki gathers to watch, hooting and hollering and placing bets on who will win. Kisame and Kakuzu are both fairly evenly matched, so that challenge goes on for a while. Finally, with a final grunt of exertion, Kakuzu is able to slam Kisame’s hand into the table. Everyone claps, and Kisame laughs and tells Kakuzu that he’s “one tough son of a bitch”; high compliment coming from a man who was half-shark.

Itachi

Out of all the members of the Akatsuki, Itachi was by far the least problematic of the younger ones. Quiet, thoughtful, quick and efficient in completing missions. And polite; always forthcoming with “please” and “thank you”, and never failing to use honorifics with the others, even though some of them (ie Deidara and Hidan) don’t show him that same respect back. One time Kakuzu had caught a cold that stubbornly hung on for several days. Itachi came to his room every day with a cup of congestion-easing tea, something that Kakuzu didn’t ask for, but greatly appreciated nonetheless. Itachi comes up to him and nods. “Kakuzu-san.” “Itachi-san.” Itachi leans up and gives him a light kiss to the cheek, and Kakuzu is struck by a particular urge — to hug this kid. Something about him, perhaps everything about him, seems like a cry for parental love and affection. Kakuzu resists this odd impulse, but Itachi seems to sense that it’s something he wanted, because he leans over again and very briefly puts his arms around the older man. “Thank you,” he murmurs, before walking away. Kakuzu watches him go, slightly shaking his head.

Tobi

Tobi gives Kakuzu an uneasy feeling deep within his heart(s). Running around, speaking loudly, eating nothing but candy and sweets, acting like a complete fool — it’s an act. Kakuzu has never been more convinced of anything in his life. The only question is, why is Tobi putting on this act? To deceive them all into a false sense of security, before striking? Kakuzu has hunted bounties a good deal of his life, and a lot of the more difficult ones to catch have acted EXACTLY the way Tobi does, in order to throw off potential bounty hunters. Kakuzu learned to see through them, the same way he sees through Tobi. But to tip one’s hand and give away what you know is unthinkable in the chase and capture game, so Kakuzu never lets on what he actually believes. “Oh boy Kakuzu-san; does Tobi get a kissy now?!” Kakuzu nods, and Tobi slides his mask halfway off (Kakuzu notes the lines on the side of his face; accident, most likely. Possibly a disfiguring one) and the strange glint of his eye. Before Tobi can act, Kakuzu puts a hand on his face and kisses his forehead. “There. Now go.” Tobi slides the mask back on and hurries away with his usual chatter and giggling, and Kakuzu reminds himself to loom through the bingo book later for bounties with visible scarring on the left side of the face.

Zetsu

Five hearts means more blood needed to sustain said hearts. More blood means a stronger scent. A stronger scent means ... Kakuzu smells delicious to someone like Zetsu. Zetsu approaches him and looks around quickly; the two are alone. His brain runs through every possible scenario in which he could successfully kill and eat Kakuzu. He’s victorious in a few ... but most end with him mutilated by the man’s tentacles, and having to face the wrath of Pein on top of everything else. So he simply sighs, flicks out his tongue to taste the saltiness of Kakuzu’s cheek, and walks away again. Just that one taste was almost enough to make zetsu throw restraint to the wind and eat his fill, so he leaves before he can do anything he’ll regret. Kakuzu wipes off his cheek in mild disgust ... in a group full of freaks, Zetsu certainly seemed to take the cake.

Deidara

Kakuzu still remembers the day they brought this kid into the group. And that’s exactly what he was; a kid. Barely 15 years old, with a powerful “gift”, and full of anger at a village he felt betrayed him in not trying to understand his unique sense of ‘art’. Fast forward several years later and Deidara had changed, and most of that change was the better. Kakuzu could only surmise that the kid matured due to the constant council and guidance of his older and wiser partner Sasori; Kakuzu feels mildly jealous that Sasori was able to reign some measure of improvement over HIS young partner, but Kakuzu couldn’t do a thing with Hidan. Still, though, even Sasori hadn’t been able to completely tame the kid, as evidenced by Deidara managing to get BOTH arms blown off in a tussle with some Konoha nin. Kakuzu had been tasked with sewing his new arms back on, but to the kids credit, despite his painful the procedure had been, he didn’t utter a sound. Had even thanked Kakuzu, twice, afterwards. Deidara walks up to him and looks almost shy; 19 years old now and still with the face of a child. Kakuzu leans down and kisses the kid’s forehead, again noting his soft and smooth — and LONG — his hair was. It sways as Deidara walks away, and Kakuzu wonders how much he could get for those luscious locks, from the right buyer.

Sasori

Respect. Out of all the words that Kakuzu could use to describe how he felt about Sasori, Respect was at the top of the list. And the funny thing was, Kakuzu hadn’t even met the REAL Sasori until almost a year of being in the Akatsuki. The two had been sent on a mission, and at night, near the campfire, a soft metal sound made Kakuzu turn his head. It was a small, slender redhead, emerging from the being that Kakuzu had THOUGHT was a real person. The two had looked at each other for a while, and then started a game of cards as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. As time went on, the two became closer. They both shared an interest in/knowledge of medical jutsu and procedures, and would often come to one another with questions or with articles on different medicines. Kakuzu nods at him as he walks up, and Sasori does the same. He thinks about it, bends down and kisses Sasori’s left cheek, and Sasori smiles at him, bidding him a quiet Good Evening before going back to his room.

Hidan

“Hey old fuck; you’ve been dying to get your hands on my sexy body all day, haven’t ya, pervert?” Kakuzu would roll his eyes at Hidan’s comment, but at this point, he’s ridiculously used to the things his partner says and does. As he looks at Hidan’s face, he wonders, and not for the first time, whether this is a punishment of sorts. Gaining five hearts and creating a kind of immortality only came for Kakuzu at the end of a long and bloody road, one paved with the unwilling sacrifices of other people. Was it Fate, that the Gods had put THIS man, this loud, overbearing, foul-mouthed heathen, into his path? And as the one person who just might be immortal, too? Hidan often joked about “When all these other assholes bite the big one, me and you might as well get married, bastard.” But what in the world was he saying? Surely he was joking; why would someone as young and attractive as Hidan want to be with Kakuzu? Kakuzu who was heaven knows how many times Hidan’s age, and — “So we gonna slobber each other or what?” “You’ve got a big mouth, brat. Learn to shut up once in a while.” “MAKE me shut up, fuck-face.” So Kakuzu grabs Hidan around the waist, tilts him back, and sinks into his lips. Kakuzu’s mouth is rough and scarred but Hidan’s is smooth and soft, and the contrast creates a dizzying effect for both men. Hidan grasps Kakuzu’s shoulders tighter, leaving slight nail-prints in Kakuzu’s flesh. Their lips are touching but in this moment it feels like everything is touching, even their very souls (if either of them still had one, that is). When Kakuzu finally breaks the kiss and pulls Hidan back up, the white-haired immortal seems fairly disorientated ... but that doesn’t stop his mouth. “You’re an even bigger pervert than I thought, old fuck. Who the hell said you could stick your tongue in my mouth?? And why —” Kakuzu suddenly reaches out and grabs Hidan’s face with both hands, this time pulling him forward into a very soft, closed-mouth kiss. “Better?” Instead of a smartass answer, Hidan simply nods; and now he’s smiling as he walks away. If he were to turn around at any point, he’d surely gasp; because Kakuzu’s smile was even bigger than Hidan’s own. “Stupid kid,” Kakuzu mutters to himself, still smiling as he makes his way back to his room.

#the akatsuki #under the mistletoe #kissing #kakuzu #hidan #konan #pein #tobi #deidara #sasori #kisame #itachi uchiha #zetsu

[siennahrobek]

“He’s holding me back,” Anakin snarled as Obi-Wan carefully paced a cup of steaming tea in front of him. He had come to the older master quite readily after he and Qui-Gon had joined their crew. Getting picked up by a fleet of venator class destroyers could either be incredibly embarrassing or quite impressive. Obi-Wan isn’t entirely sure which Anakin thinks. He had steeped Anakin something sweet and calming; exactly what the young knight needed. It was pretty much what he needed all the time, to be honest. The boy had more than just a bit of a temper.

Being around Qui-Gon Jinn didn’t exactly help.

The man rather indulged him.

Obi-Wan shrugged as he sat down on the opposite side of the thin table, shifting the cup towards Anakin and pulling his own closer. He made direct eye contact as he took a sip. Usually, it would prompt Anakin to do the same. In the company of certain people, Anakin sometimes mirrored others’ actions. Obi-Wan was one of those people. “Perhaps. But you are no longer a padawan. A knight in your own right,” he assured gently. He honestly doubted that Qui-Gon was actually holding Anakin back; Obi-Wan was fairly certain no one could really hold him back.

Sometimes however, he could be convinced to step back once in a while. It was a rare occurrence, but it had happened before.

“He’s jealous of my power,” Anakin snapped, nearly cracking the mug his fingers were laced around. Obi-Wan gently put a hand over his to stop it and pull it away. Anakin’s fingers were trembling in the jedi’s own and Obi-Wan gave a gentle, assuring squeeze before he pushed the mug a little further into Anakin’s purview.

In the end, Obi-Wan had actually snorted. The concept was rather ridiculous, his master being anything of the sort. Anakin was thinking things, perhaps even told things like this, but it couldn’t be the truth. “Doubtfully,” he muttered, something low but able for the younger man to hear rather clearly. He cleared his voice to continue. “Qui-Gon Jinn isn’t jealous of anyone, least of all you, Anakin. Take a sip, you will feel better.”

He hesitated but Anakin did so, mirroring Obi-Wan. They drank in silence, but the air was turning more comfortable. Tension bled from his shoulders as they released, and he slumped down a little bit. Anakin’s temper always seemed to be running high these days and Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if he could help in a way that Anakin really needed. He only, currently, had momentarily solutions to a bigger issue.

“A bit better?” he asked. He knew the answer.

“Yeah,” Anakin admitted begrudgingly with a sigh, shaking his head. He glanced over down below the balcony and then back at Obi-Wan, something sad but fiery in his eyes. It was a rather strange combination, Obi-Wan had to admit. “I should be out here, with you. In the war. Fighting.”

“It is not as glamorous as you are thinking it is,” the older jedi just hummed, taking a sip of his own tea and once again, Anakin took his own sip. He wondered if the younger man realized what he did.

“I know that.”

“You don’t,” Obi-Wan refuted but it was kind and patient, shooting a look to project that when Anakin stared at him, a bit angry at his counter. He didn’t like people contradicting him or telling him what he knew. Usually he wouldn’t, but Obi-Wan knew that Anakin had no idea what war was actually like. Not like this. Obi-Wan just tried to keep himself as serene and enduring as ever, to deal with Anakin’s irritated and frustrated disagreements. “I would not expect you too, either. Master Jinn is right about one thing, we shouldn’t be fighting a war.”

“You agree with him?” Anakin sputtered, surprised. The concept was befuddling to him and Obi-Wan wondered what exactly he knew about the war. Master Jinn was certainly not favorable; he couldn’t imagine the older master saying anything nice about it. Perhaps he even spun falsehoods. “Then why do you?” Anakin asked.

Obi-Wan looked over the ledge that sat about the rest of the mess hall, off to the side. Down below them was the rest of the mess hall and cafeteria, littered and crawling with troopers. Obi-Wan could feel them, he could always feel them. They filled him with such warmth and care, it made it just a bit easier to get up each morning and fight in a war that he could not stand being in. Yes, it was to protect innocents, but he reminded himself everyday that he could do what he had to protect as many as them as well. “Reach out and tell me what you feel,” he added. It was more of a suggestion than a demand but rarely did Anakin see that kind of difference.

Anakin sighed and rolled his eyes, staring at him intently. “You are not my master, Obi-Wan.” This much was true. Anakin was a knight, he no longer needed – or wanted for that matter – a master telling him what to do, but Obi-Wan had a point. At his core, he always knew he would be a bit of a teacher. He always had a point.

“Humor me,” Obi-Wan glanced at him with a kind smile.

The younger man just sighed again, loud and dramatic, and eventually complied. He looked over, beyond the railing, down in the large room that harbored so many soldiers. Some of them were in their amor uniform, usually sans helmet and others in blacks. Officers had their own uniforms that they were hardly out of, whether they were clone or not. A minute passed. Two.

Obi-Wan just waited patiently.

But then. “What do you feel?”

“They are warm,” Anakin acknowledged, his voice starting to soften, just as Obi-Wan spotted his eyes doing the same. “Brighter than I expected them to be. “They are strong, loyal, determined. Doing their best and being their best. They care about one another such certainty and persistence.” His smile was gentle and kind, lacking the fiery passion that usually inhabited him.

He could make friends here, Obi-Wan thought.

But Obi-Wan just nodded and Anakin looked back at him. He was still in a bit of a daze, probably from seeing and feeling all that warmth and light, but he was still listening, probably expecting Obi-Wan to tell him his point for the exercise. Whether or not Obi-Wan would say anything, he knew that Anakin didn’t quite regret what the older master had asked of him. “They are living and breathing beings. Sentients with hopes and dreams, whether they admit it or not. Whether they consciously know it or not,” he started. Many times, had he heard that the soldiers only dreamed of the survival of themselves and their brothers from one day to the next and didn’t think of the future that they may have afterwards. Although Obi-Wan believed them, when they said such things, he also thought they had subconscious desires and dreams for that future. Hopes for it. Even if they hadn’t been able to quite realize them yet. He truly hoped he could help them get to that point.

“I know they are,” Anakin added quietly, staring down at his tea before taking a small sip, unprompted. Obi-Wan counted it as a win. It was hard enough for Anakin to drink tea, even when he knew it helped him.

“They are a large reason why I do this. Why I must,” Obi-Wan responded, just as soft, staring down at the gently swirling liquid in his cup.

Anakin glanced up at him, his head turning a bit. “What do you mean?”

Obi-Wan pointed to the corner of the mess hall, a small table inhabited by non-clones and non-jedi. There weren’t many of them, but Anakin had a thought that it was rather on purpose. They packed together, rather tightly and did not move away from their specific table, keeping together and not milling with anyone else around. “What do you feel from them?” he asked, a bit abruptly.

Anakin groaned again but it was light and only half-hearted, but did so, taking a breath before letting his eyes sweep over the room and then settle on the table in the corner. He closed his eyes briefly and reached. With a frown, he started to speak, to explain what he felt. It didn’t appear that he liked what he was feeling, what he found in them. “They…aren’t happy. But…not in the sense of war, not in grief or sadness but like, they are dim, displeased, annoyed. They feel…disgust? Indifference?”

Obi-Wan nodded. He had felt it.

“Do they…are their feelings because of the clones?” Anakin asked, startled at the thought and pending realization.

“Sometimes, yes. Those few right there think of the troopers much like the rest of the galaxy sees them. As though they are droids encased in flesh; worthy only to be cannon fodder,” Obi-Wan explain, only sparing those men a quick glance. He looked back at the troopers that made up most of the room and Anakin could feel him softening again.

Anakin’s lip curled as a snarl escaped out. The thought made him angry.

“They do not care so much for casualties, only absolute victory, no matter the cost,” Obi-Wan continued. “If they jedi were not here to use tactics and ideas that wouldn’t decimate the numbers…I imagine it would be much worse,” he sighed, shaking his head with a deepening frown. “The clones are so willing, so eager, so loyal. I do not quite understand how anyone can meet them and not love them.”

“You are trying to save them,” Anakin said and felt pushed around by the appreciation and care for the troopers. It was interesting to feel. Jedi were known for their compassion and kindness, their wiliness to help others, sometimes even at the cost of their own lives, but it felt a bit different with the troopers. Anakin was beginning to understand why the jedi may have chosen to enter the war; if only to try and help in any way they could. There was something different about these beings. Like they were somehow intertwined with the jedi. Made to be friends, to work together, made for one another in a way that was profound, and one Anakin couldn’t quite understand or comprehend in words. He wondered if others had noticed this.

“I am not so naïve to think I can do so,” Obi-Wan replied, breaking through Anakin’s thoughts. “But I want to get at least as many as I can through this war. They…care about us in a way we don’t generally see associated with the jedi. The least we can do is try to get them through this and return the favor the best we can.”

“Do other jedi feel this way?” Anakin hadn’t even realized he had spoke for a moment, verbally saying what he had been thinking just seconds prior. Sometimes he felt so different than others, like he was the only one who could connect on the level that he did. Like he was an exception.

Master Qui-Gon thought he was an exception.

Obi-Wan nodded and there was absolutely no hesitation to it. “Not everyone of course, but most, at the very least. Even if we hadn’t been drafted into the war, I think the Council would have done the same.”

“Drafted?” Anakin blinked.

“Yes.”

“Wait. So, the Order was forced to join the war?” Anakin asked incredulously because…that was not what he had heard. Over a year in and this was the first he had heard of such a thing.

Obi-Wan hesitated, like he wasn’t sure if he should be the one giving this information, like he wasn’t sure if he should be the one having this conversation, but his brows furrowed, and he nodded. “Yes, Anakin,” he replied slowly. He had to be careful with how he spoke. Anakin’s friendship with the leader of the Republic was not exactly a secret and everyone knew how protective Anakin was of his friends. “The Chancellor made it…very clear we did not have much of a choice.”

“Master Qui-Gon said you chose it,” Anakin responded, and he sounded numb, his voice just kind of dropping off in surprise.

You, Obi-Wan mused with darkening thoughts. Had Qui-Gon meant Obi-Wanspecifically chose this or was Qui-Gon distancing himself from the jedi already? Had his old master turned Anakin against the jedi; made him see himself an exception for everything? Chosen one or not, Anakin was a jedi. That was not to change unless Anakin chose to change it. But one could not continue to truly be a jedi if they thought of themselves as exceptions to the rules, to the guidelines, to the faith of their culture.

“No, Anakin,” his voice came out nearly as a croak. “The Order was drafted.”

“But Master Jinn…” Anakin drifted off, staring down at his tea. There was barely any of it left. “If the Jedi were drafted, not everyone is involved. Master Jinn, he…he’s not a part of it.”

“We found a loophole for him,” Obi-Wan confessed and it felt a bit different when he spoke it. He found a loophole for his former master; to ease the mess. He couldn’t imagine what Qui-Gon would have done or said if they hadn’t kept him out of it. Whether or not it was the right choice, Obi-Wan knew, even if they could get Qui-Gon to work within the confines of the war, he would almost certainly have become Obi-Wan’s problem. And Obi-Wan dealt with his old master enough as it was. “He was rather vehement in his stance on the war, so we claimed his injury and ability would make quote useless on the battle field,” he explained.

“His injury?” Anakin echoed.

“From Naboo.”

Anakin nodded in sudden understanding but his gaze was far off, nearly vacant, like there was something happening in his mind, wheels turning that not even Obi-Wan could fathom or comprehend. “I guess that is smart. He wouldn’t have listened anyways,” he confessed. It sounded rather fond, which wasn’t surprising. Anakin’s soft and often blind spot when it came to Master Jinn was always apparent. He loved Master Jinn’s blatant disregard for rules, to follow what he thought and believed was the will of the Force. Whether or not it actually was the Will of the Force, it hardly mattered. It was the will of Qui-Gon Jinn.

Qui-Gon often seemed to believe that he was the only one who really understood the will of the Force.

At this point, everyone was too tired and too busy to even try to argue with him. Not that anyone wanted to argue with him because it never did anything, never got anywhere. One could not change Jinn’s mind, could not shift his perspective or make him think in any other ways.

“Quite,” Obi-Wan agreed.

“I wasn’t forced,” Anakin realized quietly after a long moment of the two sitting in silence, sipping what was left of their tea, not lukewarm. “I wasn’t even asked,” he added.

“That is partially my doing,” Obi-Wan confessed. He knew he would have to have this conversation at some point, and he had been dreading it ever since it had been done.

Anakin surged in anger and Obi-Wan could feel it. It was fairly certain everyone could feel it. The troopers in particular seemed rather sensitive and knowing of a jedi’s moods and projections. “Why?” Anakin demanded. “Did you not think I’d be good enough for-?”

“Anakin, calm down,” Obi-Wan said, quickly slipping in his own before things could get any worse and his projections stronger. “Take a sip of your tea.”

There was not much left but there was enough. Scowling, he complied.

“Qui-Gon was already going to disown me, and I knew how you feel about him, and you were still a padawan at the time…I didn’t want the same to happen to you,” Obi-Wan started. He wasn’t sure how to explain this but he would do his best with what he had on hand.

“I’m not you.”

Ouch, that stung. It was true, of course, in many more ways than Anakin knew, but that hardly made it hurt any less.

“That came out wrong,” Anakin nearly winced.

“You aren’t wrong. You aren’t me,” Obi-Wan said, which, of course, was always true. Lucky him, the master thought. He didn’t say that Qui-Gon loved Anakin in a way that he was still incapable of caring for Obi-Wan. It wasn’t either of their faults and Obi-Wan knew a lot of the blame could be found on Xanatos and the Chosen One prophecy, but that hardly made it any easier to live and deal with. It could very much be exhausting. Anakin didn’t see it, not yet, and Obi-Wan still isn’t entirely sure if he ever would. “But that does not mean he would be happy with it. You know how he feels about the war, about my part in it. About the jedi’s part in it. I didn’t want you to have to go through that. Something even remotely like that. My apologies, I wanted to keep you out of the war best I could. You are so young.”

“I am an adult! A knight!” Anakin’s voice rose into a near screech. So ready, so adamant to prove that he is mature and capable and an adult. Of course, he was capable, but his maturity wasn’t nearly as rounded as he liked to believe, and he often just did not think. He reminded Obi-Wan of Master Jinn this way. It was his way or no way at all. But unlike Master Jinn, at least in the present some of the times, Anakin was also just a bit more inclined to listen to Obi-Wan. Not all the time, of course, because Anakin always thought he was right, but with the right care and nudging and so much patience, Obi-Wan, on occasion, could get through to him on certain subjects.

“Anakin,” he said his name with as much fondness and softness and patience as he could muster. Which, when it came to this boy, was quite a bit. “War is….it is not like any mission you have been on. It is constant and it does not end. There is a goal, but it does not finish there. There is always something else, something so time sensitive. You don’t get to go home after one mission is done, there is always another, linked swinging from one to another. There is so much more violence and death, and it chips off pieces of yourself every moment. It stays with you, long, long after the conflict may be resolved,” he said, and Anakin seemed rather enraptured in what Obi-Wan was saying. He couldn’t understand all of what Obi-Wan was referencing and he wouldn’t understand how this would stay with those who fought in it. Conflict like this, although not to scale, was something Obi-Wan knew, at times, rather intimately. “It is an experience, a pain, a dirt you can never be clean of,” he insisted, swallowing hard. “War is messy, and nothing is so clean cut as people often make it out to be. You keep giving things up; your ability, your mind, your emotions, your morals, your soul, loyalty, trust…. until there is nothing left of you to give. It becomes written in your bones until it is hard to imagine you were anything else. It takes the best things of life, of ourselves, and only gives back the worst and most destructive for us to figure out how to live with.”

#I'm A Boy No I'm A Man #Gotta love them song lyrics #I love Treasure Planet okay? #Anyways #Anakin Skywalker #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Obi Wan Kenobi #clone troopers #au #alternative universe #Qui-Gon Lives #this one isn't super friendly to him #I have others that are #I know #I'm rather strange

[elsannabackwardsposts]

Bonus Feature (apology for the chapter delay)

I think this was a requested Bonus prompt from a long while back. Posting as a little apology for the delay in getting out Chapter 40 Part 1. :) 

Flynn POV; Mid-Chapter 12 time frame

“Hey, Elsa,” waved the boy from across the lobby of the campus’ business building. The blonde woman turned her attention from her notebook, curiously looking up from where she sat on the cushioned bench. With a smile, the brunet plopped down beside her, backpack falling at his side. “Got a minute?”

Raising a brow, Elsa nodded, making one more pencil mark in her notebook, filled to the brim with print outs of what looked like a class’ power-point slides. Once the book was closed, resting on her lap, pencil fit through its coiled binding for safe keeping, she turned her head to face her underclassmen.

Taking the acknowledgment as her means for him to continue, he sighed. “I need some ‘dating’ advice..” He had caught the widening of blue eyes, and although already knowing the real reason behind why the older rower held such a surprised reaction, he played it off innocently. Running a hand through his loose bangs, he sighed, shrugging his arm. “I know. Me, of all people. Crazy.”

When he glanced toward the Senior again, he noticed that she’d schooled her look back to that of a more controlled expression; one which matched her soft voice. “I don’t know how much of a help I’ll be on this..”

He waved his hand. “Don’t sweat it. I just don’t really know how to approach this one girl. None of my usual ideas are working..” He let his gaze fall, hand absently raising to scratch the nape of his neck. “She’s on the team, which may be why it’s harder. I’ve never, ya know, dated on the team before.” Flynn knew it wasn’t the greatest way to pose this question, but really, he didn’t know what else to do.

“You know how I feel about dating teammates, Flynn..” Elsa said quietly, having turned her eyes away solemnly, a bit of warning in how she spoke his name.

“Yeah, I know..” he said apologetically with a sigh, lulling his head for an instant before locking his honey-hued gaze on her. “But you’re also filled with wisdom that I don’t have,” he said, trying to give a cheeky face, although feeling the sincerity slip a little too much into his words. It did seem to give the blonde a pause before looking back at him with a bit of amusement. “Seriously though, if you were to ever go about dating again, team or not, and, hey, look. I get it, you totally won’t, but just hear me out.” The smolder was locked and loaded in his wide, pleading eyes.

The older of the two made a face, finally rolling her eyes in an exasperated manner, motioning her hand with a twirl, letting the man continue. He smiled.

“Alright, so. If you were to ask them out.. what would you suggest? Or even say?”

There was a long silence and the blonde averted her eyes. The way her expression morphed into a pensive gaze gave away the fact that she was just taking her time to really think about the question. So Flynn casually pulled his leg up to his lap, relaxing back into the seat, prepared to wait patiently for his quiet friend’s response.

“I’d make sure to remind her of the importance of putting crew and studies before a relationship.” The young captain groaned, lifting his eyes dryly to the ceiling with a long blink. Elsa frowned at his reaction. “What? It is very important to get that out of the way in the beginning,” she stated firmly.

Hanging his head, Flynn nodded, voice defeated, but tinged with a delicate sadness more than anything. “Yeah, I know..” Seriously. What else did he really expect from the lone woman? After all she had been through, of course she would opt to make sure every one else was warry, not wanting to see anyone else get all caught up in feelings only for it to all end painfully. But he could appreciate it fully all the same, because no doubt Elsa would not offer this advice, one learned so deeply due to cuts in her own heart, up to many others, if any others, but him.

Tucking a strand of flaxen hair behind her ear, Elsa softened her look. A few thoughtful seconds later, she gently added, “Just.. keep showing her that you care; that you respect her. Be yourself. Honesty is what means the most to everyone.”

Turning, seeing the gentle look cross his childhood friend’s face, the boy felt himself inhale, just in the slightest, just because of seeing the glimpse of ease emanating behind sapphire eyes for the first time in a long time. Unable to handle the elated emotion of seeing the Senior finally melt, even if in the slightest, in a highly delicate moment which could be easily ruined if he harped on her heart’s submission, or made mention of it at all, he instead played it off in the best Flynn way possible. He made an ugly face.

“Ugh, that’s it?” He closed his eyes, tilting his nose up. “No offense, but that really is girly advice.”

“Full offense,” Elsa genuinely laughed, hand shoving the boy’s shoulder lightly as he grinned back. “If you didn’t want a woman’s input, why did you not ask your guy friends?”

Flynn rubbed the light scruff of his beard. “I don’t talk about this ‘touchy-feely’ stuff with most people. And Hans is never around anymore since he’s so busy with Anna. I really didn’t have anyone else.” His honey colored eyes fell to the side, noticing how Elsa had looked down to her hands again. He blanched, realizing his words. Shit. “Ah..! I know you two don’t get along, sorry for bringing him up.”

But the girl shook her head. “No, it’s fine.” Her blonde brows furrowed in a strange way, as if there was a hint of confusion and some sort of disdain intermingling in her emotion. “Honestly, sometimes I forget that they’re together, so thanks for reminding me.”

Something about the way she said that made Flynn pause. He honestly couldn’t really comment much, as the young couple always seemed to hang out outside of crew practice; only a handful of sparse remote moments could be recalled of the two giving off romantic vibes at the boathouse or after a race. Maybe Anna wasn’t the type to talk about her relationships very much with her teammates, airing away from typical PDA-type antics. Or maybe the Freshman was discreet enough and careful of Elsa’s feelings to not bring up the boy in conversation (as Flynn had just absentmindedly done here), effectively keep Hans out of Elsa’s mind.

He hoped it was the latter. From what he had begun to observe, the rowing pair had seemed to have a good mesh, even noticing a bit of brightness returning to his best female friend as the fall season began to roll into early winter. If Anna was that considerate of Elsa’s feelings, she was definitely a good person who’d treat her friendship with Elsa well, prioritizing the gentle soul over the novelty of a boyfriend.

His eyes scanned the Senior once more, noticing something else in her eyes; a distance usually reserved for her pensive thoughts. A place she’d fallen in and out of periodically as her years at university rolled on, usually when reflecting on her race performances and, if ever another person, it would be her Ex.. But this expression was never offered regarding the auburn haired Junior boy. So, given the conversation, did that mean it was the talk of Anna who had triggered the look this time?

Blinking, Flynn held his breath instantly as the connection was made, looking at the stoic woman with a new eye. Her expression paired with her previous reaction at the couple’s mention. His brain was suddenly pulling up images from before; her reaction Halloween night, the way every time he recently messaged her she happened to be studying or exercising with Anna. Nowadays, everything that he knew of Elsa revolved around Anna. When had that happened?

Could it be that she..?

Does Elsa actually have feelings for..?

Blue eyes were suddenly on him, narrowed. “What are you looking at?” asked the woman tersely, a frown on her lips, making Flynn startle.

“Ah, sorry, thinking of, um, you know, how I can go about wooing my lady.” He grinned sheepishly.

Sitting forward, he watched as Elsa slipped her notebook into her backpack and sat up straight, sliding her satchel strap over her shoulder. For a moment, the Junior Captain thought the woman was about to stand and take her leave, but instead, she stayed still, a pale hand lingering on the strap.

“Hey, um..” Flynn was looking directly at the porcelain face which was turned downward, gaze locked on the brilliant tile floor. “What about studying together and hanging out afterwards at your place?”

The boy blinked and tilted his head. “Huh?”

Elsa made a small grimace barely visible in her side profile. “A suggestion for you and her.. to get closer.”

The Starboard rower brought his palm beneath his chin as he leaned forward, eyes still watching the Senior. “Huh. Well, we don’t have any classes together, but maybe that’d work.” He looked to the high vaulted ceilings and the gorgeous chandelier overhead and smiled. “Yeah. Study date and a movie. Sounds like a plan!”

This time, the blonde looked at him. “Why a movie in particular?”

He laughed good-naturedly. “It’s the perfect ‘hang out’ excuse to blur the lines of a friendly date. Even if nothing happens, or if conversation lulls, you can at least extend your time with the other person and quietly enjoy it that way.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t have to be a Netflix and chill deal.”

The Senior slowly nodded in understanding at his response, if not also scrunching her nose in confusion at the final weird phrasing he had chosen, before finally standing and bidding a farewell. Flynn reciprocated in kind and watched his blonde friend head off toward the glass-walled entrance of the building.

He leaned back, arms crossing against his chest with a smirk.

Despite his excellent acting skills revealing the total opposite, Flynn himself did not miss the subtle implications hanging in the blonde’s suggestion, nor how there was an honest curiosity in hearing his interpretation of why a movie could be a nice transitional date option. He really hoped he had worded the idea optimally enough. And although he certainly was down to implement it in his own endeavors, with what he had assumingly discovered regarding the elusive woman’s heart, he hoped he would not be the only one picking out a movie this week..

#Bonus Feature #elsanna backwards

[hyperpsychomaniac]

Bonding Exercise - Chapter 2

DT 17 Fanfiction

Summary: Scrooge is sick of Della and Launchpad fighting over the Sunchaser, which is costing him money, so he sends them on a 40 hour flight and orders them to sort out their differences.

Chapter 1

***

Scrooge was right. The flight was too long. Having someone to help share the flying sounded like a good idea, but by the time they arrived in Sydney, Della would have happily risked falling asleep at the controls. She finished the power-down checks and then glared across at Launchpad, where he sat in the copilot's seat. "You going to fuel her up, or do I have to do it?"

Launchpad glanced up from his phone and blinked. "Huh?"

"Never mind. I'll do it." Della could just see them taking off and trailing an entire fuel truck behind them.

Launchpad didn't even offer to do it himself, argue or apologise; he just shrugged and went back to playing with his phone. Seriously?

Della stomped off to arrange for the fuel and left Launchpad hunched over in the copilot's seat.

"Complain about never getting to fly. Then spend half the time playing on your phone… what is your deal this week?" Della waited, tapping her foot, as the mechanic chugged fuel into the Cloudslasher. The metal ring of her fake leg on the concrete seemed to unsettle him; he kept glancing her way warily.

By now, she was sure a few hours together, no matter how much they dragged on, would not fix her and LP's issues. And Launchpad didn't seem keen on cooperating. He'd been more interested in his phone. If it had just been Scrooge complaining about a few cents here and there, it wouldn't have irritated her so much. But they'd upset Dewey as well, and she knew Launchpad cared about her son. He could at least try to have a conversation with her. As frustrating as that sometimes was, it would at least mean he was trying too. They'd never patch things up if it was just her doing all the work.

Della's gaze fell on the gauge on the side of the mechanic's truck, and in her flustered state, it took her a few seconds to comprehend the reading and connect it to Scrooge's words earlier. "Hey, slow down, don't overfill her." She jabbed a finger at the rapidly climbing gauge. She could at least get one of Scrooge's instructions right and not get ripped off buying more fuel than they needed to make it home.

The mechanic raised an eyebrow as he looked between Della and the fuel truck. "You sure…"

"Um, yeah. I know how much fuel my aeroplane takes."

The mechanic shrugged his shaggy shoulders and got back into the truck. Well, at least some idiots wouldn't waste their time arguing with her.

Della climbed back into the Cloudslasher's belly and shut the bay door. "Right, we're refuelled, and… are you still playing on that thing? Better send whatever the heck you've been spending so long on. Once we start heading out towards Scrooge's sheep station, you're not going to have any reception."

"Um, yeah, okay."

Della prepared the Cloudslasher for takeoff. Then slammed the throttle full on. They were both thrown back into their seats, and Della couldn't help but smirk as Launchpad yelped and his phone skittered across the floor.

***

As they approached Scrooge's sheep station, Launchpad was at the controls. Della shuffled over to stand behind his chair and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"We're nearly there," Launchpad muttered. By this point, he sounded more tired than irritated.

Della was pretty sure they were both over it. If anything, whether they worked their issues out or not, they'd plain just be sick of bickering. "Good."

"You'd better land her. You don't want me screwing it up."

Della rolled her eyes. Then she squinted out the windshield. "Wait, what the heck is that?" Ahead of them, a red wall of cloud reared up. Its edges churned, and faint flickers of lightning played at its interior.

"Sunchaser, come in," the radio squawked.

Della's eyes narrowed. Launchpad reached for the radio, but Della leaned over his shoulder and snatched up the handset before he could get to it. "This is the CLOUDSLASHER. We read you…

The radio crackled. "Wait, who? We're trying to contact the McDuck plane…"

"Yes, this is the McDuck plane which is, and always will be, called the Cloudslasher. We… what the heck is going on down there?"

"Dust storm, mate. You won't be able to land. You can go into a holding pattern; she should clear soon. Or you could head back…"

Della groaned. "We can't circle up here for hours!"

"Hey, up to you."

"It'll take twice as long to fly all the way out here again if we go back," said Launchpad.

He had a point, and it was the first helpful thing he'd said all trip. Here for a couple hours. Or adding on a whole pile more, including another landing to try fumble their way through together. "We just refuelled; we'll be fine. We'll hold up here. Let us know when it's safe to land? Please."

"Roger. Sheep station out."

Della slumped into the copilot's seat. "Great. More bonding."

Launchpad glanced across at her. "I don't like fighting with you, you know. Even if it wasn't upsetting Mr McDee. And Dewey, but…. I guess that's kind of important."

Dewey. Della sagged back in the seat and let out a tired sigh. Something, someone, they could agree on. Finally, it seemed Launchpad was ready to talk to her. "Yeah. I suppose we could just pretend, right?" she said. "For Dewey's sake? We don't have to be best buds. Just not fight like we did in front of him in the hanger."

They sat quietly for a moment. And then, or all the things Launchpad could've done, he once again pulled out his phone and started tapping away at the screen. Della's eyes narrowed. They'd actually been talking sensibly about Dewey. It was an important topic for both of them and the stupid phone… "There is no reception out here, Launchpad. But you know that, don't you? I get the message, alright? You're not interested in making this work. And I understand if you've got a problem with me; I know I've been harassing you about the plane, and I'm sorry, alright. But what about Dewey? You're supposed to be his best friend."

That brought Launchpad's gaze snapping up to meet hers. "I am his best friend!"

"So what, you've not been trying to ignore me for the entire trip? What's so important on that stupid phone; you got a new girlfriend or something?"

"Mind your own business." Launchpad hefted himself out of the chair and moved over to lean on the railing. The glow of his phone illuminated his creased brow and the darkened cargo bay behind them.

Della took over the controls. "You know," she said through gritted teeth. "You pretend like you’re everybody's friend, but you really don't seem like you want to put in the effort when things get a little tough."

Launchpad ignored her.

***

Three hours later, and Launchpad was still ignoring her. At this point, it was probably for the best. Della couldn't imagine anything he could've said to her that wouldn't result in an argument. He'd ditched the phone, maybe he'd run out of things to do on it without reception, but that hadn't stopped him making it clear he did not want to talk. Now, he had his notebook out on his lap. He sat in the copilot's chair, scribbling and crossing out what he'd written again and again.

Della called the station. Their reply was garbled and crackling, and the storm still showed no signs of clearing. They were probably getting sick of hearing her voice. She hung up the handset and flopped back into her seat. "Maybe we should have just flown back."

Launchpad looked up, pencil hovering over his paper. "Huh? What, you're blaming me?"

Della sighed. "No." She'd call him on ignoring her, but there was no point snapping at him for something she was as much to blame for. "We both made that decision. At least we have plenty of fuel."

Launchpad scowled at his notebook, then flipped it shut and tossed it up onto the console.

It wasn't just her he seemed irritated at, Della realised. Maybe she'd been wrong. Maybe his distraction wasn't intentionally directed at her. "What are you writing anyway?" she asked tentatively. She'd try, just one more time. Both to give Launchpad another chance, but primarily for her son. "Darkwing fanfiction?" It was the only thing Della could think of off the top of her head. But why hadn't she thought of this before? Even if Launchpad was trying to ignore her, she was sure he couldn't resist talking about Darkwing Duck. And Della didn't care squat about it, so she'd have no reason to fight with him over it.

"No, I… never mind." Launchpad got up and looked over her shoulder at the console.

Not the reaction she'd expected. At least he hadn't walked away from her, but Della did not appreciate him hovering. "You know what, this is getting boring. It's your turn. "She grabbed Launchpad's sleeve as she stood up and wrested him in the direction of the seat.

Launchpad gave in and sat down, taking the control yoke in his big hands. Then he closed his eyes and frowned.

"What are you doing now? Don't fly with your eyes closed!"

Launchpad's eyes shot open, and he got up and pushed past her. "I'm going to check the fuel."

"The gauge is is right there! It's…" Della frowned "… still full?"

"She feels a bit light."

Della sat down and tapped the gauge. "Launchpad, did you glue the needle in here?" Out of all the annoying things he'd done today, somehow, this wasn't so bad. She just didn't understand why he did some of the things he did. At least she'd put in the fuel herself. If she'd let Launchpad do it, she'd be real worried right now.

"Felt a bit light…" Launchpad climbed down the ladder to the cargo bay and paused above the fuel tank. He opened a panel in the floor, which shouldn't have opened, but he'd probably modified it so he could easily access the fuel tank. Instead of, you know, simply using the gauge which was right there on the console.

Della punched the gauge, not hard enough to break it, but just give it a really good whack. The needle jerked itself free and dropped. She waited for it to settle. They were probably still above three quarters, at a guess. The needle stayed almost smack down on empty. Maybe that's why he'd glued it; it was broken. Unless she'd just broken it, but Launchpad couldn't really blame her after he'd glued the thing. She leaned over the railing. "Launchpad, why did you put glue in the gauges?"

Launchpad popped his head out of the hatch. "How much fuel did you put in?"

"Why'd you glue the stupid needle in the fuel gauge? Now it's broken! At least I know how much I put in, and she should still be nearly full…"

"The tank's nearly empty. I mean, we've still got a bit, but if that storm doesn't clear like now we'll have to go back, and…"

"Good lord, no, we are not going back. And we don't need to…"

"We're nearly empty!"

Della's hands balled to fists at her side. "I know what I put in! We'd both know if you hadn't screwed with the gauge, why, why do you even…"

"Because it reads low!" Launchpad exploded. "And everyone always leans over my shoulder and says Launchpad we need fuel now, and I tell them she still feels right, and they just tell me Launchpad you don't know how to fly the plane! But I know what it feels like! I glued it so everyone would stop telling me how to fly my plane!"

"The Cloudslasher is mine! I know how much fuel I put in her; she's nearly full!"

Launchpad flung his hands at the hatch. "I know how a fuel tank works. That's how I can tell she's nearly empty."

"Urgh! You're as bad as the mechanic. I know how many gallons my own damn plane takes!"

"Liters."

"We're American, LP. I know how many gallons…" Della slowly lowered her arms. Back at the airport, she'd been in such a fluster. "Oh no."

"Nuh, but I think in Australia they use metric. It's weird. So the numbers on their stuff are different… or the fuel fills up a different space in the tank or something. So I normally just tell them to fill it up. It's less confusing."

Della put a hand to her forehead. "The fuel truck was reading litres. The mechanic put in way less fuel than I thought."

Launchpad's shoulders slumped. "Guess we got to go back."

"Yeah. So I'm stuck with you for even longer."

"Hey, I'm trying to be nice. You were the one who screwed up fueling the plane."

"I would've known if you hadn't messed with my gauges! Seriously? People wouldn't keep telling you you don't know how to read them or tell you you forgot fuel… if you weren't… if you weren't such a bad pilot. Why does Scrooge even employ you!?"

The aeroplane lurched. Della's eyes widened. "Who's flying the plane?"

"You're supposed to be! You're just as bad a pilot as I am, you know that, right? But at least no one's going to fire you because… at least you're actually part of the family!"

"Can we raincheck this?" Della ran back to the console, and Launchpad followed. Della slid into the pilot's seat, grabbed the yoke and steadied the plane. Outside was nothing but red. They were practically on the edge of the storm now, far closer than they'd been when Della had left the controls, and she wasn't sure how either they or the storm had moved so much. The engines whined, louder than usual. The dust couldn't be good for them.

Launchpad gripped the back of the pilot's chair. "I think we gotta put her down! She's getting sandblasted up here."

Della squinted through the windshield. "I know… I know… but I don't know where the ground is."

"You gotta feel it…"

"I would use the gauges, but someone put stickers all over them!"

"Decals! You don't need them."

The Cloudslasher bucked again. "Aw, fooey, we're going to crash." The ground could be inches below them, and they wouldn't know. Or centimetres. Because, you know, bloody metric.

Launchpad huffed. "Yeah, we're going to crash. Big deal. So we may as well do it properly. Now, move." He grabbed Della's shoulders, picked her right up out of the seat like she weighed nothing, and placed her to the side.

"Hey, don't you dare pick me up!"

Launchpad sat down and grabbed the yoke. And then he closed his eyes.

"What are you…"

"Shh."

Launchpad's chest heaved as he took in a deep breath, and then he stilled. Della wasn't sure, but maybe the aeroplane was a little steadier. Relatively speaking. Outside the windshield, red dust ebbed and flowed. And, Della thought she saw a shape. A serpentine form; a snake in the sky. Between the red dust, it seemed to glisten with a rainbow hue.

Della grabbed Launchpad's shoulder. "Um, LP? Maybe you should open your eyes."

"It's too distracting."

"But there's a…"

The impossible flying creature was suddenly upon them, a giant rainbow-coloured snake that slammed into the front of the plane. It dwarfed them. The storm roared, the snake hissed and bucked as it tried to tear itself free of the metal beast that had rammed it. It was like they'd collected an angry fluorescent anaconda on their jeep's windshield. But this completely engulfed the nose of an aeroplane with loops of muscle, scales, and sharp spines.

Launchpad's eyes shot open. "Wha…"

The snake hissed and whipped its body free. The harsh motion triggered the prominent spines along its back, and they shot free and pelted like a hailstorm of arrows towards the windshield.

"Launchpad, duck!" Della hit the deck. A dozen spines punched straight through the glass and slammed into the back of the cargo bay. "What the crap…" Della shot back to her feet. The giant airborne snake was gone. The windshield was punctured by a dozen holes like someone had peppered it with bullets, but thankfully, it had not shattered.

"Hey, Della? You're going to need to crash this for me. I… can't reach the yoke." Launchpad clutched his shoulder. One of the spines stuck out near his hand, and the other end had punctured straight through both him and the back of the pilot's chair.

"Oh shit, LP." Della shot to her feet and put her hand on his arm. "Are you okay?"

Launchpad winced, then took his hand away from the spine and swiped at the yoke. His shoulder seeped red around the spine and into his jacket. "It's okay… I can't really feel it. I just… can't reach. We're losing control again."

Heart pounding, Della moved in front of him and grasped the yoke. Just don't look. She had to concentrate on flying the plane. Landing in one piece was the first priority. But she couldn't read the instruments, and she couldn't see anything… and then she was going to have to deal with that spine in Launchpad's shoulder, and she wasn't even sure how bad it was, and…

Launchpad reached out and squeezed her arm. "Close your eyes. You don't have to keep 'em closed. It'll just give you a chance to feel what the... the Cloudslasher's doing. You can't see outside anyway."

"Okay…" Della closed her eyes. It was certainly less distracting. She tugged the yoke slightly up, lifting the nose of the plane.

"There you go…"

"What about the ground?"

"Hopefully, it's not red too."

Della squinted as she cautiously cracked open her eyes. She wasn't sure, but maybe the hue outside and below them looked darker. She tugged the nose up slightly. The plane let out a crunch of tortured metal, and the impact flung Della into the console.

***

Chapter 3

#ducktales #dt17 #ducktales 2017 #ducktales fanfiction #dt17 fanfic #launchpad #launchpad mcquack #dt17 launchpad #della duck #disney ducks #sorry Launchpad