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littlemisslipbalm · 3 years

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“you make me so angry sometimes”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He snickers, “Y’like it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S’a little rude.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seriously. What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t see it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So which am I?” She widens her eyes.

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

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

He laughs. “Thanks,” he drawls out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re late!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do not,” she warned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve got it,” Y/N says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s my job to touch you, Harry.”

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

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

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

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

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

He nods again, muttering “Fair, fair.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pauses again and she continues to work silently.

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

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

“Pardon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop that,” She muttered.

“Stop what?” He smiles wider.

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

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

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

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

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever, dude.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry hums and unclenches it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lisa nods, “Apologize.”

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

Lisa smiles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He types back: “Of courseeee”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” he exhales.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yet the effect is similar,” she muses.

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

“Effect?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which part?”

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

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

“You know, so why don’t you?”

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

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

“And what if I don’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nick stays quiet, taking a drag of his cigarette.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I really am sorry,” she whispers again.

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re stubborn,” she notes.

“So are you,” he counters quickly.

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

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

“That’d be nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Passion.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry giggles and scratches his nose against his index finger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great. You?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harry,” she sighs contentedly.

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

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

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

“What?” Harry laughs, confused.

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

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

“How are you?” She continues.

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

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

“The one who’s obsessed with me?”

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

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

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

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

“Oh shut up!” She’s quick to reply.

“So you do?”

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

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

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

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

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

“No one said anything about nudes!”

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

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

“Aww, you’re flustered,” She coos.

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

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

“Because you called me,” he says confidently.

“I call everyone.”

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

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

“Or does it?”

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

“Yes.” She smiles.

“Yes!” He repeats happily.

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

“See you soon, Harry.”

“Not soon enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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swtki · 3 years

Text

My Game - Spencer Reid x Reader

This is a part 2 to Teachers Pet

SUMMARY: After Y/Ns little test, she takes Dr. Reid up on his offer. She also takes him back to the apartment.

WARNINGS: 18+ CONTENT, SMUT, FEM READER, PROFFESOR-STUDENT, TEACHER REID, ORAL (FEMALE RECIEVING), PENATRATIVE SEX, SEMI DOM-SUB

It had been three days since Dr. Reid emailed me. I hadn’t texted him yet, too afraid of not knowing what to say. When I pulled that little stunt at his desk, I expected nothing to come of it. Just seeing his cute and pink face was enough of a reward. But it was obvious to me in the days following, he wanted to cross his finish line.

My phone sat comfortably in my hands, the series of numbers lining the top of my screen. I had not an inkling of an idea of what I would say. Should I go casual? Professional? Sexy? I mean, did anyone ever know how to aproach their crush?

Y: It’s Y/N, sorry I took so long. I’ve been kinda busy.

S: No worries, I was beginning to think I had read the room incorrectly. What are your plans for Saturday night? Theres a great Italian restaurant next to where I’m staying in DC.

Y: That sounds wonderful, actually. I’ll meet you there at 7?

S: Perfect.

I reluctantly pulled my figure from the sofa, and soon eagerly jumping into the shower. When the water hit my face the entire day melted away, and left only the anticipation of that night. I felt so special, I mean I was living my most vivid fantasies and not every woman gets to do it with a genius professor.

With my makeup carefully applied, and my dress matching my shoes, I started down the stairs. As my heels made a clicking noise, I started to feel a familiar flutter in my stomach. I was nervous; First date nervous. Though I had met him many times, and most recently met his body with mine, the event of a first date was a pâté of emotions.

The door of the restaurant was cold against my hand. I didn’t expect a high end dining experience, and when I walked in the entry way I was glad it wasn’t. The entry way was filled with cozy items. The faded rose pattern on the wallpaper complimented the display of family photos.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for a tall brunette man, it was a table for two.” I said to the hostess. She paused for a second, tapping on her tablet as she checks the current table descriptions.

“Ah yes, party of two for Reid?”

I confirmed and she led me through a hallway to our left, which led into a small dining area. The room walls were a burgundy color, illuminated by the candle sitting at the head of each table.

I thanked the woman as I walked toward Spencer. He looked a tad bit cleaner than usual, his hair was combed and tucked away behind his ears.

“Oh, here let me get that for you.” He rose from his seat and rushed over to the chair across from him.

“How gentleman like, Doctor.” He laughed and we both took our seats.

“Please, call me Spencer.” His form was more relaxed than it usually was in class, giving him a calmer and peaceful demeanor.

Dinner progressed, a glass of wine was nursed, and he insisted on paying our check. Though I had been on dates before, this felt like my first real adult date.

“How did you get here?” He inquired as we stepped onto the rough parking lot terrain.

“I took a cab, I’m thinking I may catch the train though.” I said. His mouth spread into a displeased expression.

“Nonsense, please let me drive you home. I would hate for those statistics we learned last week be applied in this manor.” I laughed and rolled my eyes. I hesitated to answer for a moment, instinctually I looked down and shifted my weight on my feet. The thought of him driving me home could end up in a number of ways; Mostly good. But, if I did take the train, it would end in a few ways; Mostly unmentionable.

“Alright, since you asked nicely.” His cheeks grew red as he avoided eye contact with me. I knew right then where our night would likely head.

“Would you like to come up? We can have a drink if you aren’t hell-bent on going to sleep before nine-thirty.” I joked with him.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to feel forced into anything because I know that theres a certain expectation when-“

“Spencer, if I didn’t want to fuck you, I wouldn’t have asked you up.”

Sure, having to say it in blatant terms is less than sexy, but thats what I adored about our dynamic at that point; I led the relationship.

I leaned into my fridge, purposefully bending over so my skirt lifted to show my ass.

“Well...fuck,” I said, “As it would turn out, someone stole my wine bottle and filled my fucking vodka bottle with water.” I stood up and shut the door, walking over to the counter inches away.

“One time I took the drink turn when it came to our friend-team-dinner-night, the bottle was forty dollars, which granted is the cheap wine more or less. To this day I still have no idea who stole the bottle, because I wanted to take it home.” Spencer reminisced. I laughed at his unusual way of trying to understand.

“Wasn’t really mine to begin with,” I started walking over to the sofa where he patiently sat. “I’m not of legal drinking age. But of course it tastes better when its forbidden, everything does.” I stepped in front of the man, his knees only an inch from my shin. "Can I touch you, Spencer?” I said in a soft voice, the lids of my eyes relaxed in a sweet shift.

“Y-yes.” He gasped, obviously so turned on by the way I stood over him, in power of him. I threaded his hair through my fingers and tugged back, pushing his head as far up as I could. His eyelids fell and he was no longer looking at me.

“Look at me, sweetheart. I want you to see everything.” He opened his eyes, his irises were colored with lust and desperation. I connected our lips in a long a sweet kiss. Rather than just having a mess of tongues, the kiss was filled to the brim with emotion, of pleasure that this was happening again. His lips were slightly swollen when I pulled away to unbutton his shirt. While I fiddled with the garment, he put his hands on my hips firmly.

“Can I- can you sit on my lap?” he asked, a red tint forming on his face. I smiled and obliged, sliding his shirt off of his lean torso. I started kissing him once more, this time I made sure to press my dripping panties against the large tent in his trousers.

“Would you like to take this to the bedroom?” I ask,hands resting comfortably on his neck.

“Please”, I stood and laced our hands together, leading him to my bedroom. Once we both entered through the doorway, I pushed him onto the bed, he fell softly.

I reached my hands behind my back to unzip my dress, as I felt it fall past my legs and onto the floor, I saw his eyes scan every detail of my body.

“One might say you were planning this.” He eyed my matching lace set.

“Wanted to make sure Spencer Reid had the best.” I replied, climbing on top of him so that I would be straddling him. I felt his hands connect to my waist as we kissed, his hands were warm and excited me even more. He pulled away, quickly pressing his lips to my neck and collarbone. My breath hitched in my throat as he bit down lightly on the skin. “Lets get these off, shall we?” I motioned to his pants, which had to be killing him right now. While he does that, I reach into my drawer and retrieve a condom, laying against the plush material of my pillows after I set it down on the table.

He gets on top of me , pressing his lips with mine as he rubs the back of my bra, signaling he wants me to take it off. I ,of course, reach back and unhook it, tossing it onto the floor. He grabs my tit while dancing his tongue with mine, making me more wet than I thought was possible. Usually, these actions signified a need for control, but when Spencer did it, it was like a desperate sixteen year old boy. Its clear he needed me.

“Can I...” he nods down to my cunt, still covered by the thin material of my panties.

“Can you what, Spencer?” I lace my fingers in his hair and pull, earning a soft groan from the man hovering over me.

“Can I please eat you out?” He begged. I smiled and pushed his head down, spreading my legs when his face met my stomach. He started by taking his thumb and rubbing over my clothed pussy. I bucked my hips, desperate for more friction. “Is it okay for me to take these off?” His eyes met mine, searching for confirmation. I smiled and nodded, moving my hands to stroke his hair rather than tug at it.

As his fingers latched onto the last piece of fabric that covered me, instinctually I pushed my hips upwards. He looked at me, silently asking if taking the garment off was still okay. When I bit my lip, a rose hue covered his face. He was flustered by me, by the escalation of us. But nevertheless, he slowly pulled off the last piece of modesty I had.

To re-assure him, I lightly tugged at his hair. Thankfully, he took the hint and licked a long stripe on my clit. My voice was caught in my throat as he continued making flat-tongued movements. I felt his hands slowly wrap around my thighs, pushing my heat into his face more than it already was.

He devoured me without hesitation, but when he pulled away for air he replaced it with two fingers and then when my stomach tensed and my eyes rolled back into my head, he used three. I finished with his mouth sucking on my bundle of nerves and his fingers buried inside me.

“Do you want to keep going?” He raised his head up and his thumb stroked my thigh, which he was still grasped onto.

“Yes, God yes please, Spencer.” I whined, the high fading away. He stood up off the bed and removed his strained boxers. He was beautiful; His lanky form was now a lean masculine type. I smiled at him, to which he obviously thought he was being laughed at. He couldn’t make eye contact with me, resulting to the floor instead. “Spencer,” I crawled towards the edge of my bed and placed my hands on his shoulders, “You are so gorgeous, the reason I’m smiling is because you always hide it in those sweater vests.” he relaxed.

“Thanks” he mumbles, still avoiding my eyes.

“Now please, come back here and let me take care of you.” He climbed back onto the bed while I rested against the pillows. He was nervous, and obviously he wanted to do it right. I could see his hands shaking as he unwrapped the condom and put it on.

“You’re sure?” He asks, the tip of his cock resting on the top of my inner thigh. He was easily six inches, my hand could probably wrap around and be too small.

“Yes, please fuck me.” He slowly inserted himself into my dripping cunt, causing me to let out a lewd string of words. Once again, my hands flung to his hair and tugged harshly, causing his arms to almost buckle beneath his own weight. I could feel his pelvis against mine, his muscular bottom torso pressed up against my clit. “Move, baby, its okay.” I reassure him. His hips pull away from mine, then snap back with a nice pressure. He quickly started to pick up his pace, small grunts escaping through his clenched jaw. “Do you like the feeling of your pathetic little cock inside my cunt? I bet you feel like a special little bitch now.” I moaned into his ear. “Well, are you going to tell me how much you enjoy my cunt?”.

“God, yes! I love it so fucking-“ his moan paused the sentence and he focused on getting his movements right.

“So fucking what? Go on, finish the sentence baby.”

“So fucking good, I love being inside of you so much!” He was practically whimpering in pleasure.

“Be a good boy and make me cum all over that pretty little cock of yours?” I struggled to contain my moans, I could not fall apart this quickly.

“Yes I will!” His fingers reached down to rub my clit, impressively keeping a steady rhythm. I felt the knot in my stomach becoming hotter and hotter as the minutes passed by.

“Oh my god, such a good- oh my god!” my eyes rolled back into my head as the impact of my orgasm was full forced. When my head cleared, I tugged on his hair, pulling his head so he could look me in the eye. “Gonna cum soon? Are you going to cum all inside of me?” his thrusts got off beat, he was close.

“Yes, I’m gonna-“

“Ask permission to cum, Spencer.”

“Can I please cum inside of you? Please?” He whines.

“Of course you can, baby.” With that he makes a strained moaning noise and his hips slowly stop moving. We’re both panting, while he flushes the condom I walk into the bathroom next to him. I turn to the shower and twist the hot water knob.

“We might as well get clean together, yeah?” I said.

“Yeah.” he smiles and kisses me once more.

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homieswithhades · 3 years

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why steve rogers returning to the past was wrong

disclaimer: im clearly a stucky enthusiast, but please, do not be thrown off by that. i admit, there may be undertones of bias because of that in the following, but i did my best with trying to lay out the facts and draw logical conclusions, so do please give me a chance. also, i may have accidentaly omitted some moments and some quotes may not be 100% word for word, as my memory lowkey sucks. ALSO this is NOT a peggy hate post!! i think shes a dope and underrated character and quite frankly she was done dirty. but i also definitely h8 the trope of badass woman falls for the hero.

first and foremost, every sane person knows endgame was complete and utter bullshit when dealing with steves character, so this post will be more for you to maybe show (and hopefully convince) some stubborn friend or family member. nice, concise (not) and including proof from the movies (+a few tweets and stucky undertones, if u dont fw that i respect it but bucky is an integral part to steves character regardless of how u interpret their relationship) here is why steves character development was thrown away at the end of endgame.

let us begin at looking at the cap trilogy.

in ca:tfa it should be noted that steve had no one to return to in the 40s, except bucky. i believe steves relationship with peggy was no where near as developed as it should have been to elicit him returning exclusively for her. as we are aware, steves driving force has absolutely always been bucky. bucky was there for steve after his parents died, when he was sick, and always protected him from whatever trouble he got himself into. "until the end of the line" right? steves relationship with peggy was forced and short lived, literally, we're talking a matter of months here. i need to keep emphasising the important disparity between bucky and peggy, as it is absolutely key in this whole argument. steve dropped everything and went against every order just to even attempt to save bucky. even the slightest chance of him surviving being captured was enough for steve to break into a hydra camp and free the 107th division. steve even had the chance to capture zola, one of the main villains and masterminds of the war, but again, steve prioritised bucky. when theyre trying to escape the exploding hydra camp, the exchange between steve and bucky is critical. steve says "go! get out of here!" as all he wanted was bucky escaping safely. he put bucky's life over his own (this wasnt the first time he did this, nor the last) but bucky rooted himself to the spot, and yelled back "no, not without you!". they both escaped safely as we know, and then steve gathers the howling commandos to take down the red skull. bucky then falls off the train, nd steve blames himself for his death, even visibly crying over it twice. steves morals went from "i dont wanna kill anyone. i dont like bullies, i dont care where theyre from" before buckys death, to "i wont stop until all of hydra are dead or captured" after. stuff happens and steve defeats the red skull and is now in control of the flying ship with the bombs. he connects the comms with peggy and she tries to convince him theres another way to disarm the ship. steve was so dedicated at that point he didnt even want to hear it. he didnt even attempt to do anything to ensure his survival. this alone proves, peggy was not important enough to him to return to.

next is ca:tws. The stevebucky movie. in the museum, peggy confirms that steve saved the man from the 107th division who eventually became her husband (steve was never in the 107th, just to clarify) i believe her husbands name was daniel sousa (as revealed in the marvels agents of shield show) steve then finds out peggy is alive and talks to her. she, in short, tells him she's lived her life, and it was his turn to live his in the time hes in. the "my best girl" line was unnecessary and out of place; again, steve barely knew her. again, shit goes down, and steve finds out the winter soldier is bucky and immediately drops everything, and becomes dead set on saving him. not killing, not imprisoning, but saving him. no matter the cost. "he saw me, and he didnt even know me" "hes not the kind you save, hes the kind you stop. he won't recognise you" "he will." god, steve KNEW bucky would recognise him. regardless of the brainwashing, steve managed to break through the barrier hydra fought so hard to drill into buckys mind. nothing ever broke him out of that state exept for steve. "im not gonna fight you, youre my friend." "youre my mission" "then finish it. cos im with you till the end of the line." [[good fucking lord let me break out of my essay-esque semi professional format here and just say how fucking heartbreaking those lines are. oh my god. read them, over and over until it hits you.]] steve shows us again, that he is willing to not only die for bucky, but literally die by his hand. he would let bucky kill him. he'd dropped his shield. he didnt fight back. steve always, always, ALWAYS got up and fought back. always. exept that time. the time bucky could have killed him. that scene is the essence of "im with you till the end of the line" because then, it was true. it was true because steve was okay with dying at buckys mercy. theres a difference between sacrificing yourself for the greater good (steve going into the ice), willing to die for someone (steve risking his life multiple times in attempts to save bucky) and finally, being willing to let someone kill you, because you love and trust them so much (hellicarier scene). the difference between peggy and bucky's relationship to steve is that steve may be willing to die for either, but only willing to be killed by one. not to mention, bucky pulled steve from the river. he recognised him. steve broke through 70 years of brainwashing with such impact it literally drove bucky away from hydra out of his own free will.

in between ca:tws and ca:cw its confirmed (im p sure sam says it) that him and steve looked for bucky for two. years. even off screen, bucky was steves priority.

im going to squeeze in 2 points from from age of ultron here, for chronology's sake:

steves worst nightmare, as portayed in the movie, is LITERALLY going back to the 40s and being stuck there (with peggy too??lmfao) and also the quote "family, stability, the man who wanted all that went in the ice 75 years ago. i think another one came out." objectively confirms that steve isn't the man he used to be, and doesnt want to return to the past. aou may have sucked, but that doesn't mean the character development should be thrown away.

ca:cw. hoo boy. steve went against 117 countries and half of his closest friends and colleagues because he believed bucky was innocent of the bombing of the un conference. god, steve quite literally, did everything to defend and protect bucky. though i shall acknowledge that steve did attend peggy's funeral, however, there was no real connotations there other than the fact he was mourning her death (understabdibly so). steve then proceeds to protect bucky for 2 hours 27 mins and 41 seconds to the point where they escape together to siberia after the airport fight. "i dont know if im worth all this steve" "what you did all those years... it wasnt you. you didnt have a choice." "i know. but i did it" again, absolutely heartbreaking quotes if you read it a couple of times and truly understand the meaning of them. steve somewhat indirectly tells bucky yes, yes he is worth all of this. otherwise, he wouldn't be doing it. a quote to support that would be "for the longest time, i always did what i thought was right." (disclaimer this is not a direct quote i deadass couldnt find it to save my life, i belive steve said it at some point during civil war or tws, but the point is, bucky is the only thing that could have shaken steves morals so intensely.) and finally, the most important part of cw, the fight at the end with tony. bucky and steve constantly protected each other. steve kept fighting because he was fighting for bucky. to keep him safe from tony and the world. he got up, time and time again. "i can do this all day." the fact that he said that to tony, some people consider them the closest of friends, proves again, a million times over, bucky is more important to steve than literally anything else, INCLUDING his shield. his mantle. he dropped it and left it like it was nothing, because his priority was bucky. as always.

theres not much to discuss for infinity war other than their hug whicg was honestly just adorable.

mmmmm endgame. i will not go into how much i hate that movie because it would be a rant quintuple the length of this one. in the support group, steve dead ass fucking says "you gotta move on. you gotta move on" and that sentiment was literally forgotten at the end. my main point for endgame is this. people tend to tell me, the reason steve abandoned bucky and went back to be with peggy is because he knew that he was finally safe. :/. if you had half a braincell youd know that's not true. the steve we know, never would have left bucky for good, ESPECIALLY after the "dont do anything stupid until i get back" exchange [[god i want to beat the shit out of the r*ssos]] mostly because, bucky had fucking no one in the time he was living in!!! no family, no friends and most heartbreakingly, no one he could trust. (yes sam was there but were just seeing their friendship develop now in tfatws, all that wasnt there in endgame) and secondly, what made steve think bucky was entirely safe??? half of the worlds population just suddenly reappeared, which as we see now, there were massive consequences for that. i simply believe steve is not that stupid. steve going back was disrespectful not only to his character, but to bucky AND peggy. most importantly, the steve we've been watching since 2011 would NEVER abandon bucky, no matter how safe he thought he was (he visited him frequently in wakanda, the safest place on the planet arguably ffs) especially for such a dumbass and quite frankly, nonsensical reason as going back to be with peggy, who clearly stated to him she moved on, and so should he (which he did. idk endgame writers prolly didnt watch the previous movies :/) its not even debatable. bucky is more important to steve than peggy. even in terms of screentime.

now allow some tweets to speak for me, this one being the absolute most important one:

ladies and gentlefolk, all of the stuff ive said can be summarised in that last line. "it would be contrary to who he is."

heres some more:

and now finally, id like to briefly mention steve and tfatws, so beware of spoilers (writing this as of ep 4 coming out; praying it doesn't age badly)

bucky mentions steve, unprompted, fucking constantly. he clearly isnt over steve leaving, and im hoping that gets acknowledged and talked out in the show.

in conclusion, tl:dr, steve shouldn't have returned to the past and stayed there, it is contrary to who he is, as shown to us through his trilogy and other appearances in the mcu. not to mention the timeline bullshit in endgame makes zero sense in the first place.

#long post #stucky #captain america #steve rogers #mcu #marvel #tfatws #bucky barnes #peggy carter #hwh's marvel thoughts #please dont bullshit me in the comments also i dont have the strength #imma hide this in the tags praying no 1 will b bothered to look but steve and bucky gay #everytime some1 calls their relationship brotherly it takes 10 years off my life nd makes me wanna impale myself ❤#also no beta we die like men #my meta

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theawkwardone6 · 2 years

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What I know abt Japanese so far:

I can read hiragana almost as well as roman characters, I can read katakana but not as well, and I know a few kanji by sight but could not write them if I wanted to. I actually struggle with romaji tho lmao (it’s bc my brain wants to read it like English so I usually just do hiragana)

I can count to 1,000 but not very well

を marks an object, が marks the grammatical subject of the sentence, は marks the topic and for some reason is pronounced like “wa” instead of “ha” when it’s the topic marker but idk why, に means going to smth or smth is in smth (like 部屋には100人ありますmeans “there are a 100 ppl in the room), speaking of that あり means “there is”, a little つ means there’s a small pause in between sounds, and の means that smth is yours

After the subject of a sentence is introduced, it can be dropped until a new subject is introduced. For example, in English you would say: “I am going to the grocery store. I’ll buy you something too.” In Japanese it would be: “I am going to the grocery store. Buy you something too.”

です/ます is kinda like,,, it is?? At least です is. I’m not sure how to explain ます. It’s like,,, doing something?? I’m not sure how to explain it. 話せます means “I can speak”. In います, い means that the thing is alive

Honorifics!! Which I think are really cool and I wish English had them!!

-さん (san) is the most common.

-さま (sama) is the more polite version, and is used to address someone of higher social status or in business settings.

-先生 (sensei) means teacher but I think it’s used for other professionals too. I heard that you would call your doctor 先生 but I might be wrong on that?? Idk.

-くん (kun) is semi-formal and used to address boys/men the same age or younger than you. It can be used for girls but it isn’t usually.

-ちゃん (chan) means that you find the person cute/endearing. Its used to create a nickname and often you shorten the person’s given name (ex: かっちゃん [kacchan] is how the character Midoriya Izuku in Boku no Hero Academia addresses the character Bakugou Katsuki). It’s used mostly for girls/women, children, pets, and lovers. It can be used for boys and men but it isn’t usually, and might be offensive in most cases

-たん (tan) is like ちゃん but is even more cutesie and kind of babyish. I think it’s used by toddlers?? I’m pretty sure people would think you were weird if you called them たん unless they’re a 3 year old (since it’s a mispronunciation of ちゃん that sounds babyish and is easier for kids learning how to speak to say I think)

-先輩 (senpai) is used to address upperclassmen/older colleagues.

Moving on to pronouns, starting with how to address yourself

-私 (watashi), which in polite contexts is gender-neutral, but is perceived as feminine in casual contexts. I’ve heard some women mispronounce it as あたし (atashi) in casual contexts, though

-俺 (ore) which is informal and used by men

-僕 (Boku) which can be either formal or informal, depending on the contexts. It’s used mostly by young boys, but some girls use it although it gets them made fun of, and you can call young boys 僕 if you don’t know their name.

-young children might refer to themselves as their given name in third person. Young women sometimes do this too I think?? It’s considered childish cuz kids do it tho

There are more ways to say “I” but idk all of them. There’s too many.

-あなた (anata) means “you,” but it’s seen as condescending to call someone, like you think you’re better than them, especially to your boss. It’s not seen this way when used in songs and commercials, or when no information abt the person is given. It’s also used affectionately by spouses, often translated as “dear”, and I think that’s the cutest thing in the world. Otherwise you would just use the person your talking to’s name.

-私たち (watashitachi) means “we”

-彼 (Kare) means “he” but it can be used generally. It literally means “that one”. It also means “boyfriend” depending on the context. 彼氏 (kareshi) used to mean the same thing, but now it just means "boyfriend"

-彼女 (kanojo) was created in the 19th century as the female equivalent of feminine pronouns in European languages. It can also mean “girlfriend”

-かれら (kare ra) means “they”, or a way to address multiple people

Moving on to other stuff—

I can tell time. 12am is 零時 (rei ji) which means 0 o’clock which I think makes more sense lol

I know some animals

I know some food/drinks

I know lots of countries

I know the seasons

I know how to put together basic sentences

よ/ね/よね (yo/ne/yone) means “innit luv?”

That’s all I can think of right now!! Feel free to correct anything in here that’s incorrect, or add anything that I don’t know. Japanese is hard guys jrhrudhrihdd

#japanese #pls let me know if any of this is wrong #I don’t want to learn a language incorrectly cfuxfyitcubi

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reyesstrand · 3 years

Note

#9 for Tarlos please 🥰

thank you for the prompt! i hope you enjoy!! 💗

feel free to send me a number from this list. also available on ao3!

((tw: minor description of blood/injuries caused by a car accident))

Ever since he was a kid, he knew that it was hard to leave some calls at the scene.

Sometimes they lingered on the trip back to the firehouse, where a silence fell over the whole crew as nothing but dead air passed between their headsets. Other times, they dug in deeper, as if they were physical things with claws and teeth, refusing to be shaken off until something worse occupied their minds. He saw it enough with his dad when he was still a little too young to understand why he had to work such long hours; he saw it when the towers fell, and it was like he had to grow up overnight, practically set aflame at the thought that he could’ve lost his dad, like other kids lost their parents in a single moment.

TK doesn’t let that stop him from giving his all, though, even if that means he becomes too personally wedged into rescues.

It seems like it’s going to be a standard day, when they get the call from dispatch about a motor vehicle accident. The rest of the team seems to think the same thing—given the fact that they seemingly have no qualms about pushing him for the juicy details on his date night last night, only spurred on by the fact that Carlos had picked him up at the station yesterday afternoon and dropped him back off this morning.

“Come on, aren’t we supposed to be professionals here?” TK says, though he can barely get it out without smiling.

Immediately, voices erupt around him through his headset, all of them essentially calling his bullshit. Marjan smacks him in the shoulder.

“Hey!” TK laughs, nudging her in the side with his elbow in retaliation.

“If you spilled the details, maybe I’ll go easy on you,” Marjan says, cocking a brow, and TK rolls his eyes and barely suppresses a groan.

“There’s nothing to tell?” TK tries, though he knows his lie is evident to all of them.

“That hickey says otherwise,” Judd pipes up, and TK shoots him a glare.

“Come on now, children,” his dad says, and TK huffs a little laugh.

And then he looks out the window as the rig slows.

“Shit,” Paul says, following TK’s line of vision. And, well, yeah. Because the road is a mess, various vehicles piled up. But it’s what’s at the heart of the accident that catches all of their attention: a semi-truck, tipped onto its side, with a dull grey car trapped underneath.

“Okay, everyone, all hands on deck,” Owen says, all of them out of the truck the moment it comes to a full stop. They’re the first to the scene, only a few police cruisers trying to set up a barrier, and so he hears his dad yell to him that he’s on point for checking on the car driver. It’s all he needs to hear to immediately jump into action, even as his dad keeps shouting orders for Paul and Judd to grab the jaws and deal with the truck driver.

He and Marjan move into a jog, hiking their gear up high on their shoulders.

Once they get to the driver’s side of the car, TK knows it’s going to be a tough day.

The driver is completely crushed under the weight of the steering column, the whole front of her car folded in like an accordion. There’s blood dripping from a gash on her forehead, and what looks to be a broken arm, and TK has only barely set eyes on her and he already doesn’t like the way she’s trying so hard to breathe.

“Ma’am? My name’s TK, and this is Marjan, we’re AFD,” TK starts, the spiel coming out of his mouth without a second thought. Marjan clears the window of the sharp shards of broken glass, giving them more room to work; he meets her eyes and she nods, reaching down for her radio to call for the jaws and some extra hands. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Rachel,” she gasps, and TK nods, pressing his fingers to her wrist that looks mostly uninjured for a pulse. It’s weak, but he tries to school his features so she can’t see his worry.

“Marjan, we’re going to need to secure her neck, and once medical gets here we’re going to need to get her on oxygen,” he says, before meeting Rachel’s eyes. “Okay, Rachel, we’re getting you out of here. We just need a minute to secure you.”

“Hurts to—breathe,” she stutters, and TK clenches his jaw. Marjan opens the backdoor of the car with a few good tugs, and slips into the seat, reaching around to place a neck brace on Rachel.

“TK, tell me what’s going on.”

His dad’s voice pulls him from listening to Rachel’s shallow breathing, and he responds: “Female driver, she’s completely pinned, Cap. Weak pulse, low BP—I need medical here now.”

“They’re coming, maybe a minute out,” his dad says, sidling up to him. He looks through the car and meets TK’s eyes, both of them knowing how time sensitive this rescue is going to be.

TK feels a little relieved when he sees Mateo arrive with a backboard, and Nancy and Tim trailing just steps behind him. Judd’s voice crackles through the radio, informing them that the truck driver’s only a little banged up.

“Hey, Rachel, the paramedics are here now, okay?” TK says, though when she latches onto his arm, he squeezes her hand. “I won’t leave you.”

She nods, looking at him with wide, scared eyes.

When Nancy gets the other side of the car open, pulling a nasal cannula from her bag and talking with Tim about her ABCs, TK keeps her looking at him. She looks like she’s going to drop any second, tears sliding through the grime on her cheeks, her breaths still too weak.

“Hey, just talk to me,” TK says, his only thought to keep her awake.

Rachel just starts crying harder.

TK meets Nancy’s eyes from across the car, and feels Marjan at his side. “Hey, hey, Rachel. Listen to me. Do you have someone? Someone waiting for you at home?”

“Lena,” she sniffles, her voice growing weaker. “We’re—we’re getting married in April.”

“Tell me about her,” TK says, eyes pleading, barely registering the murmured conversation around them as a plan forms.

“She’s always worrying about me, calls me a danger magnet,” she laughs wetly, and neither of them mention the blood that stains her lips.

“Sounds like my boyfriend,” he tells her, and she meets his eyes, something hopeful presented in her gaze. “I got shot last year and burst my stitches a week later. He tells me all the time that I’m not allowed to go to the hospital again unless I want to send him to an early grave.”

Rachel smiles at him, faintly, and squeezes his hand. “She—she’s my best friend. I just want to see her again.”

“You will,” TK says, before he can even think about what he’s promising.

He steps back for a moment, being pulled into the plan from his dad. He’s left with the job of talking to Rachel, considering he’s made the most significant contact with her.

TK takes a deep breath, and returns, frowning at her pained expression. “Okay, Rachel. We’re going to have to use some equipment to get you out, and I won’t lie to you, it’s going to hurt. But think of Lena, okay? I promise you that we’ll get you back to her.”

“But my chest,” she groans, trying weakly to move against the weight pushing her down again. Both he and Nancy immediately reach out to settle her, hands on her shoulders. “I think I have a concussion, and—and it hurts. Everything hurts.”

“You’re going to see her, so soon,” TK promises, imagining what he’d want to hear if he were in her place. He thinks of Carlos, and knows he’d do anything if it meant getting home to him. “I swear to you. I will make sure you get home to her.”

“TK,” Marjan whispers, and he meets her gaze before his eyes flit away. He knows what it means, to make impossible promises. But he fully intends on keeping this one.

“Now, I’m going to count down from three, and me and my team are cutting you out of here, okay?” TK says, and she nods, eyes closing tight. “Think of Lena.”

It’s a bit of a mess, once Owen starts them on the routine procedure, using the jaws and every tool they have to remove the driver’s door; to wedge her out from the steering column. Once she’s on the backboard and lifted onto the stretcher, they start losing her, and Tim immediately starts on compressions.

TK holds his breath, staggering back against the car. Marjan squeezes his shoulder until they hear Nancy declare that she’s got a pulse. They rush her to the ambulance, and that’s supposed to be it. TK knows it.

“Take a breather,” his dad says, cupping the back of his neck. TK nods, feeling exhaustion ache deep in his bones. “You did good, kid.”

TK just nods again. Marjan knocks her shoulder into his before giving him some space, heading off to check the few witnesses still standing around for any superficial injuries. He ends up walking to somewhere private, which ends up being the back of the ladder truck, where he can lean against the paneling and keep himself upright.

He doesn’t realize how out of it he feels until there’s hands gently cupping either side of his face, carefully tipping his head up.

“Carlos?” TK’s voice sounds weak even to his own ears, and his boyfriend nods, looking concerned.

“TK, are you okay?” Carlos asks, and it’s only when he drags his thumbs across TK’s cheeks and wipes away the tears there that TK realizes he’d even been crying. “Sweetheart...”

“I’m okay,” TK says, sniffing hard. “I swear. I’m just exhausted.”

He leans into Carlos’ touch, though, because he’s got his boyfriend here and doesn’t want to have to let him go just yet.

He voices his desire, barely audible to anyone but his boyfriend. “Stay with me for a minute? I just need to—to get my head on straight.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Carlos whispers, and TK sighs and drops his head to rest against Carlos’ chest.

“Just—just a rough call,” he murmurs, mostly into Carlos’ uniform. He feels a hand carding through his hair, and settles under the touch. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’ll be wherever you need me, Ty,” Carlos says, ducking down to press a kiss to the crown of TK’s head. “Always.”

#tarlos #911 lone star #tarlos fic #my fic #trevorvanriemsdyk

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theflashdriver · 3 years

Text

Secret Admirer (A Silvaze Oneshot)

Silver the hedgehog did not understand time travel, that was a truth he had long come to accept. While the books he’d read, often fictional in nature, gave their own takes or explanations with regard to changing history, he’d found that the truth was far less consistent. He’d often jump back a century or two to change things, to save his friends or the world from disaster, but those changes often resulted bizarre contradictions. Upon returning to the future he’d find it totally changed by his actions, so what happened to the prior, destroyed, world?

On one occasion the world might’ve been cracked into chunks by a giant monster only to be flooded by an entirely different one upon his next visit, but he seemed to be unaffected by the world’s changes. Well, that’d been the case nine out of ten times. The first time the future had been saved was the exception to the rule. Following the battle with Solaris, his life and all he was had been reset to zero. He’d been reborn and regrown to the point of being able to change the future again, an occurrence that he didn’t understand and that could hypothetically happen again at any point. That happening now would mean losing his memories again, forgetting not only himself and his friends but his closest partner all over again. Regaining those memories once had been so difficult, a second attempt might well prove impossible.

So, if he didn’t understand time travel and it could be so dangerous, why on earth was he daring to do this? Why had he hidden himself in the bushes of the royal gardens, from dusk till the rapidly approaching dawn, staring up at his best friend’s balcony? Why had he turned back the clock a single day to crouch in the hedgerows for what must have been over ten hours? Well, because the oncoming morning had been a rather bizarre day for him.

——

The day had started in a not so peculiar way. He’d awakened as his door was kicked in and a familiar voice bellowed through the entryway, “Rise and shine mate! Your Sheila’s here and I’m hungry!”

Though this happened every third or so day, her words had sent him tumbling from his hammock and he only just managed to catch himself before he could hit the ramshackle floor, “Good morning Marine,” He managed to groan, floating himself upright, “It’s morning already?”

“Morning, afternoon, evening? What does that matter, I’m telling you to get up, get your head on mate,” She beamed up at him, already dressed in her shipwright’s overalls, “I heard about your late night out, but that’s no excuse to leave your lady hanging, let alone leave me without breakfast!”

“Late night out? What are you...?” As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, the hedgehog’s brain kicked into gear. Marine only used terms like Sheila when she was talking about one person, “Wait, Blaze is here? I thought she was busy today; we were going to meet up tonight?”

“Well, for obvious reasons, she wants to see you now,” Marine’s grin went from excited to mischievous, “You’d better not keep her waiting.”

Marine had joked about the two of them being more than friends for some time now, so this was nothing new to the hedgehog. Whenever he left for the castle the raccoon would ask if he was going to see his girlfriend. Whenever they went on outings, professional or otherwise, Marine would insist on calling them dates. Blaze still seemed to struggle with it sometimes but, to be honest, he’d learned to let it fly over his head. The words Blaze and girlfriend had practically become synonymous in Silver’s head, even if he knew they weren’t actually the same.

Regardless of Marine’s chosen vernacular, Blaze’s mention was enough to send him into a hurry. Psychic light filled the room, his semi-private space in the bric-a-brac house that Marine had made, and immediately set about preparing him for the day. A set of boots pulled themselves onto his feet, his gloves slipped over his hands and his quills were straightened from frightful bedhead into their usual maple leaf style. There was a time when he wouldn’t have cared to do any of this, when he’d have simply stumbled put there to greet her, but the feline had trained him to be far neater in this second life.

“Alright, let’s go,” He grinned, knocking the door ajar with his powers before stepping around her.

“Hey, don’t get distracted by her, mate. I still want my breakfast!” The shipwright whined, trotting along behind him.

Their hut on the beach was a small place, mostly made of driftwood and iron, so it didn’t take Silver long to perform his usual stumbling dance over Marine’s half-finished inventions and into the kitchen. The combined cooking and eating station was at their home’s entrance, it was the first room any visitors ever saw. He’d made sure to clean the surfaces and put everything away the night before, in an effort to avoid an earful from his feline friend. The sight Silver encountered so heavily contrasted what he’d left last night.

Not only had the raccoon evidently awoken early and started tinkering, laying out all manner of machine on the kitchen table, but his companion looked so very different. For once, the guardian of the Sol emeralds wasn’t wearing her royal robes. Blaze was instead garbed in something far lighter, a long white sundress with a ruffled style. Its straps were thin but made to look thicker by what, even from a distance, the hedgehog could identify as embroidered felt lilies. There she sat, absorbing all of his attention, a simple glass of water placed in front of her. Was she smiling? It looked like she was, but maybe not fully. Well, it wasn’t unlike her to smother such an emotion.

“Good morning, Silver,” The hedgehog felt something strange in his chest as her words distracted him from his staring. Suddenly, it felt hotter than usual. That phenomena had happened a few times, but Blaze had sworn that it wasn’t her power’s doing.

“Good morning, Blaze,” He beamed, ignoring that strange feeling. Marine barged past as he stood somewhat stunned in the doorway, “I thought you were busy today?”

“I am, I’m just,” She went from smiling to fidgeting very quickly, hands set upon get glass, “Stopping in. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Blaze was apparently good at hiding her emotions but, for as long as he could remember, Silver had been able to see through them. Right now though, there was something flickering across her brow that Silver couldn’t place. She looked uncomfortable but Silver had seen her uncomfortable, he’d seen her sleeping on tarmac when they couldn’t reach their beds, this was a very different kind of discomfort. As if to make things even stranger, he couldn’t help but notice the heat lines that were blurring the air around her frame. That was a sight he only ever saw when she was seriously angry or upset, it usually indicated an immanent burning outburst and gave him time to mediate.

Again though, he couldn’t help but notice, despite that hint and her apparent discomfort, was that happiness in her eyes? A strange smell seemed to hang around her. It wasn’t unlike the feline to use strong perfume to mask the scent of flames but beneath the smell of lavender there was something else. Something had undoubtedly caught fire, but he couldn’t place what.

“What, me? Yeah, I’m fine,” He said, stepping fully into the room as he pulled himself from another daydream, “That dress is so nice, it really suits you.”

“Thank you,” She quickly uttered, raising the glass to her lips and absentmindedly casting her gaze to the ramshackle room’s large window

“Geez, you two really aren’t good at this,” The younger girl sounded, jumping up to sit at the table, “The dress is nice, Silver? After everything, that’s the best you could manage?”

“I mean, Blaze always looks pretty so it’s difficult to compliment her,” He quickly and bluntly responded, honest as ever, “But that dress makes her look even more beautiful than normal; it really suits her,” Silver saw an opportunity to enquire and turned back the feline, “Is something happening today?”

“No, not particularly, I just...” As the feline was talking, seemingly without her even noticing, her left shoulder ignited, “Was curious what you thought of it. I bought it a while ago thought I should wear it out for once. I’m glad you like it.”

“M-Mate, you’re-

Before the raccoon could finish, Silver had gently stepped to Blaze’s side. Concern was welling in the hedgehog’s head, not because of the fire itself but what it represented in Blaze’s mind. Casually, as he had done so many times before, he reached out and pressed a psychically shielded hand upon her shoulder. In an instant, like a hood covering a candle, he dispelled the flames with a gentle hiss. In their wake though, Silver felt a tenseness in her body.

He leaned in, getting face to face with her, but the prokinetic’s eyes fled from his, “Blaze, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Silver. Sorry, I just lost focus for a moment,” He’d known her long enough to know when she was lying. Something was going on.

Silver leaned in even further, pushing his forehead against hers, “You feel hotter than usual,” He confirmed aloud, meeting her eyes as he pulled back, “Are you sure? You might be sick...”

“I’m fine, really,” She insisted, “I-I just wanted to see you as soon as I could.”

“See me?” Silver blinked, confused, “But aren’t we meeting tonigh-

Before he could question Blaze any further though, Marine started to yell, “That’s more like it! See Silver, when you try, you can do it. You should sweep her off her feet more often; who knows, she might wear more pretty dresses.”

“Marine,” The guardian frowned, her ears folding, “If you must make such comments could you please keep your voice down.”

“Well I’m sorry I’m getting in the way of you and your boyfriend’s private time,” The youth stuck her tongue out, “But he’s supposed to be making me breakfast!”

“Fine, Marine, I’ll start on breakfast. Just settle down,” The psychic sighed, casting his aura across the room. The cupboards popped open, jam and utensils floated their way down to the worktop as bread jumped up and into the toaster, “So why did you want to see me, Blaze?”

“I just thought I should...” She shook her head, seeming to return to a more stoic demeanour, “I wanted to make sure you two were okay and now I know you both are, I’m glad. That’s all. Thank you for the water, Marine. I should probably get going.”

Something was wrong, something was definitely wrong with his partner. Silver felt his heart beat faster as he called out to her, “Wait, um,” She froze at his exclamation having just left her chair. He had no idea what to say but he knew he didn’t want her to leave, not until he understood, “Do you want some breakfast?”

“I need to hurry back to the castle,” She bit her lip, “But yes, if it’s not too much bother I... suppose, yes.”

The feline slid back into her seat and, instantly, a smug look overcame Marine’s face. Should he have asked that? Did the raccoon know something he didn’t? They seemed to have talked before she woke him up.

“Alright, I can do some toast really quickly, that way you won’t start work on an empty stomach,” Silver suggested, throwing a small smile her way.

The little grin had returned to her face and she had stayed. That was a good sign, right? She really had been hotter than usual though; in fact, she’d gotten even hotter the longer his head pressed against hers. Something was wrong or, at the very least, he didn’t understand what was going on. Regardless, Silver reset the toaster and slid two more slices in.

“So,” Blaze broke the silence again, he tried to stop staring, “Do you two have much planned for today?”

“Oh, the usual, you know. Start work on a couple new ships, go a sail,” Mischief was reborn on the raccoon’s face as she threw her gaze towards him, “Silver?”

“Might do a little bit of gardening or tidy the house a bit. I was honestly just going to wait the day away till I could come see you,” He turned to Blaze and admitted but, still sensing the tension in the air, he felt he had to say more, “So it’s nice to see you now. How about you?”

Almost instantly, Blaze’s gaze broke from him and fell back to her now almost empty glass, “Well, in a manner of speaking, I planned to do the same, until this morning,” Again, that strange half smile had overtaken her face; it was as though she was happy but, simultaneously, grappling with something else. Those heat lines looked even clearer too, Silver swore that he could feel her warmth radiating, “Not to say today’s meetings aren’t important, but I’d be lying if I said they addressed was especially pressing. It’s mostly updates on projects already well under construction, deciding whether and where to assign more funding. I honestly already know which projects need an extra boost and what projects are on the right track.”

“Anything we could help with?” Silver piqued up.

“Oi, don’t speak for me mate,” Marine blustered across as Blaze took a moment to think.

“Well, there was a plan to build a new lighthouse on the island that has rather stalled. The shores aren’t especially dangerous but there has been some call for it,” Blaze responded, ignoring the youngster.

“Wait, a lighthouse? Strewth, that sounds great,” The shipwright claimed, doing a complete one-eighty, “That’ll be easy. With Silver’s help, I could get it done in a weekend.”

“If you want my help then I’m more than happy to give it,” Silver promised, “Will that make your meetings easier?”

“Significantly, thank you-

The popping of the toaster cut the feline off. The psychic cast his hand across the room, but he kept his eyes on his companion, “Jam?”

“Blackcurrant if you still have it,” Blaze ordered, “I think that’s still my favourite of the batch you made.”

The hedgehog felt a wiry smile bend its way over his lips. Silver wasn’t the easiest person to fluster, apparently he was oblivious to most embarrassing things, but that compliment cut to his core. It wasn’t the first time she’d said that, but it still sent heat to his cheeks.

“I want strawberry and peanut butter!” Marine insisted, seeming to struggle with not being the focus for a full second.

“I know Marine, I know,” He managed to mutter, turning his full attention to the task in an attempt to smother his glee.

Quick as a flash, cutlery flew and jars were unscrewed as the hedgehog kited the toast toward completion. One after another, two plates landed on Marine’s ramshackle table. Silver meanwhile simply kept his overly topped toast in his psychic grasp.

Marine immediately set about devouring her plateful but, as ever, Blaze was more courteous. With a quick, “Thank you,” she claimed her first mouthful. Silver took the middle road between the two of them, eating quickly in his own bizarre way, but also knowing how not to make a mess. All the while, he sent the cutlery to clean itself and began to psychically tidy.

The raccoon, her mouth still full, snorted, “Show off. I shouldn’t have to do any chores; you can do them all so easily.”

“It’s important to take responsibility, Marine. Silver won’t always be here to look after you,” Blaze tutted.

“Yeah, so while he is here, I should take advantage of him,” Was her whining response, “If I could do what he can then I’d have made so many more ships by now, you’d practically have a navy!”

“You take advantage of him enough as it is,” The feline insisted, gesturing to the half-formed metal masses on the table, “Look at this mess, it’s all yours but he was planning on cleaning it up. How many times has he done that?”

“Blaze, if you’re going to act like my Mum then can you at least hurry up and marry Dad?” Marine sneered.

Silver had expected another retort, the two could bounce back and forth like this for hours, but instead a silence hung in the air. The time traveller looked to Blaze only for her gaze to quickly flick away from him. She raised her glass to her lips only to find it empty, he hadn’t seen her take the last swig.

Silver felt compelled to break the silence, “Marine, you can’t keep saying these things…”

“Oh, what, now that you’ve actually made a move I can’t joke about you two? No way!” The youngster jeered.

He blinked, “What d-

“I-I need to get going anyway,” Blaze cut him off, “My first meeting is about to start.”

“What, already?” Silver could feel that strange vibe in the air, it was stronger than ever, “But you just got here.”

“It can’t be helped; work may wait for me but I don’t want to delay others. Besides, you’ll see me again tonight, won’t you?” She asked, perhaps rhetorically or perhaps not, “Just come in how you usually do, sneak in through my back window, I might be a little late now that I’ve...” Again, Blaze’s shoulder caught fire but this time the feline noticed and obsessively patted it out. Concern and regret overtook her face before she tore her gaze from him. She rose from her seat and stepped past him, heading toward the door, “I need to go, the meeting will start soon.”

“Blaze, are you sure you’re okay?” He called across, just missing as he reached for her hand but successfully halting her in her tracks, “You’re acting strange today. If you need help with something then I’ll do my best, you know that, right? Just like with the lighthouse.”

“Don’t be so naive,” She’d practically snapped at him but when she looked back at him that strange emotion had filled her eyes, “If you can do this then I can do this.”

He was so confused but he couldn’t get a word in before the door opened. Her smile grew and fused into whatever other emotion had been battling. Silver had seen Blaze set herself alight and charge into battle, he’d seen her conjure a million different flames, but that smile was more blinding than any she could produce. He wanted to etch it into his mind, hold it close and never let it go. He’d seen countless expressions on that pale muzzle of hers, but none of them could compare to this simple yet complete smile.

Her words almost failed to break him from a trance of her own creation, “I’m so glad I managed to see you this morning, but I’m already looking forward to tonight, Silver.”

“S-See you later, Blaze,” What was that? He’d stuttered? Why did his mouth feel dry all of a sudden, what was going on?

Once the door was closed, the grey hedgehog rushed to the window, wanting to watch the guardian depart, only to find she’d frozen a few paces from their porch. She raised a hand to her forehead, seeming to rub her brow, only for her entire upper back to burst into flames again. He watched as she pulled her hand down her face and balled her fists at her side. Though the flames grew brighter for a moment, they were soon snuffed by her own will. Silver watched as she quickly marched away, without another glance back or moment’s hesitation, but his eyes were drawn to her tail. Even while the rest of her had returned to a seemingly serious state, that appendage was flicking back and forth.

“Oh strewth, look mate, she’s left you something!” Silver’s thoughts were again interrupted as he turned to find the raccoon had left her seat.

Atop the chair she’d fled, Blaze had left a small package wrapped in white paper and bound with a cyan ribbon. He approached and Marine, having taken a gander at it herself, passed it his way with a smug grin. Attached to the ribbon was a tag which, in Blaze’s cursive and neat handwriting, read, “To my Secret Admirer. It was my first time making these and I had to rush, but I hope you manage to enjoy them. From your own Secret Admirer.”

“Secret admirer...?” He read aloud, still staring at the small package.

“I mean, come on Silver. You didn’t really think you could trick her, did you?” Marine said, on the verge of laughing, “Who else would leave Blaze flowers? Of course she knew it was you.”

Silver felt the gears in his skull clang and rattle as he struggled to parse through all this. What Marine had just said was clear but the parcel, Blaze’s dress and how uncomfortable she’d looked? It was all compounding, but there was a problem.

“Flowers? What flowers?” Silver asked, still staring at the little parcel.

“Aww come on, mate, don’t play dumb. You’ve been caught. She told me herself, she went out onto her balcony this morning and there was a whole bouquet out there. That’s the way you get into her room, right?” Marine snorted, jumping back onto her chair, “You just fly up there and go through the balcony door, that way no one else knows about you two havin’ your lil’ kissing sessions. Of course she knew it was you, who else could have put the flowers there?”

Did Blaze not receive flowers often? She was the guardian of this dimension after all, not to mention the best person he knew. He supposed them arriving on her balcony did make things different, did perhaps imply they were from him. But they weren’t. Someone else had put them there.

The gift in his hands wasn’t for him, it was for them.

“Who else could have put them there...” Silver parroted, eyes still fixed to the package.

“Mate? Mate, are you still there?” Marine snapped her fingers bur his attention barely wavered from the dozen thoughts fighting in his head. He only just managed to look up at her, “I always knew you had it in you, but I didn’t think it’d be so soon. I was sure you two would pussyfoot around your feelings for another couple of years at least.”

Who could this so-called secret admirer be? There was no way it could be someone from the other dimension, getting here was just too much trouble for them. Was it one of the palace staff? Had a maid or a butler cleaned Blaze’s room and left the flowers there, only for them to be discovered the day after?

The hedgehog’s nose twitched. Whatever he was holding, it was producing the scent that had undercut Blaze’s perfume. The cat had tried her hand at baking or cooking of some sort, by the weight and scent that much was clear, but he couldn’t bring himself to open the parcel. Even though she thought it was, this parcel wasn’t intended for him. This package was intended for her secret admirer, whoever had plucked up the nerve to set flowers on her doorstep. Though he had happily eaten her food before, Blaze always seemed embarrassed about her cooking. She’d never thought highly of what she made.

She must have rushed to make this gift, unwilling to let that show of affection go unreturned for even half a day.

He had to make things right, he had a duty to! And what choice did he have either way, he couldn’t claim responsibility for the bouquet at her back door. No matter how he felt, if it was concern or happiness or... something else. What was this feeling? There was a strange tightness in his chest and a bizarre concoction of emotions swirling in his head, all of which entirely confused him. He kept visualising her where she’d sat when he’d walked in the room, that little smile on her face and how it’d grown as she left.

“Well, go on mate, don’t keep me in suspense. Aren’t you going to open your prezie?” Marine asked, still entirely oblivious.

Thoughts were still streaming through his head, but they’d latched onto a single idea and new thoughts had begun to chorales around it. He had to find out who this admirer was and either tell Blaze or give them her present, he wasn’t sure which. But how could he do that? How could he mend this faux pas?

A sound began to blare in the room, very almost throwing Silver from his feet. The hedgehog’s eyes tracked it to its source, tracing up the wall, only to find the rickety cuckoo clock that Marine had made last month. A painted green bird had poked its head through a pair of doors and began to whistle. It was as he stared at that clock, its hands reading eight in the morning, that a thought fought its way through Silver’s jumbled emotions.

What if he went back in time to scope out Blaze’s actual secret admirer; what if he went back and identified them? Could he do that? Of course he could do it, but should he do it? Was that right? Was that wrong? He felt a headache growing behind his eyes, like an ice-pick wiggling its way into his brain, as all of his confusion returned.

He had to do something, but this was all he could think to do. Having seen that smile on her face, just telling Blaze it wasn’t him didn’t seem right. He’d find out who this secret admirer was and then explain the whole situation tonight, give her the choice whether or not to know who they are and then whether either of them should deliver the present. Something about that still didn’t sit right with him, something he couldn’t place, but he had to do something! He had to make things right; he had to help her!

“I need to go, Marine. I might not be back till tomorrow,” He said, hearing the faintness in his own voice.

“That’a boy! Chase after her, just like Amy does Sonic; bust down the door, interrupt that meeting! Now’s your shot so you’d better not waste it!” Marine yelled, but Silver barely heard her over the racket in his head as he raced out the door and began to channel temporal psychic energy.

—

His position in the bushes was growing more uncomfortable by the microsecond, he’d surely been squatting for hours now. There hadn’t even been a nice night sky to look up at, he’d been staring up at her balcony and its plain white curtains for what felt like days. Traveling back through time to arrive here had been the easy part, the wait was the real killer. He’d sent himself back to just after sunset, knowing that his arrival in the midst of the night might scare off the princess’ potential suitor. It was a far smaller jump through time than he regularly did, the shift backwards hadn’t tired him in the least, but now his eyelids were heavy and the balls of his feet ached. The sun was rising, the world was beginning to awaken, and Silver couldn’t help but feel a little tense. No bouquet had arrived on Blaze’s balcony nor had one been present upon his arrival. No one had so much as entered the royal gardens in the entire time he’d been here.

Silver heard his stomach grumble; it’d been calling out to him for the past three hours, just as time had switched from trickling like molasses to stumbling like a lost snail. Sequestered in the hedge beside him was Blaze’s gift, a parcel not set to exist for what was likely a handful more hours. It was food he wouldn’t dare claim for himself and that had convinced time to tick by even more slowly.

He’d already fantasised about the package’s potential contents, of course he had. Cookies seemed most likely to him, Blaze had made him cookies back when he’d first arrived in her dimension, but perhaps that disqualified them. He’d heard that people made each other chocolate on Valentine’s Day and, with that event being advertised as just a couple of weeks away, he had drawn an association between such a gift and romance. Come to think of it though, he wasn’t especially well educated on what romantic rituals were in this dimension. For all he knew, there could be bread or a croissant in there. He was fairly sure he could rule out fish or some other cooked meat and modestly certain he could limit his assumptions to baked goods, but not entirely.

As his stomach made yet another demand, Silver couldn’t help but sigh. Whoever this supposed romantic was, they were certainly leaving it to the last second. Blaze had a busy day ahead of her, especially since she was set to cook this gift and visit him. There was no way she’d be up any later than seven. The hedgehog had slept over in her room enough times to know that, despite how it clearly annoyed her, the guardian always set an early alarm and insisted on leaving her bedroom by seven. Every day had to be productive in some shape or form. Well, almost every day.

Once or twice, when he’d stayed over, she’d ended up breaking that rule. He’d always blamed himself for those occasions, they’d stay up playing games or reading or simply talking. When they’d lived together in the destroyed future there had been no hard rule on when to wake up, so Blaze always blamed that for her tendency to sleep in around him. Would nights like that still happen after her misplaced assumption was revealed? Could they?

He shook those thoughts from his head, he couldn’t daydream; he had to stay alert! He was on a mission! There was no way she’d sleep in today if she’d found time to bake. By now the chirping of birdsong had begun to breach the airwaves, a sign of the ever-encroaching morning. This was a sound that Silver knew almost too well, on the more common occasions that they hadn’t slept in he’d spent the morning identifying them. Pretty songbirds weren’t uncommon on the island, their chirps and hums punctuated almost every outing, but, for once, Silver couldn’t bring himself to focus on their music. Their presence implied that the moment was approaching, Blaze would awaken soon.

This suitor was really leaving it to the very last moment. If they were leaving it this long then the delivery would surely be quick, but Silver wasn’t even sure how they’d reach her balcony. The overhang was a good ten metres off the ground, Silver could only get up there because he could fly. There were no vines or trellis to climb and the wall was practically smooth. Maybe they’d just throw the bundle of flowers up there? With the right arc it was certainly possible, but a slight miscalculation could ruin them. The longer he’d considered it, the more it made sense that Blaze had assumed he was the source.

By this point he’d, of course, considered this suitor’s nature a hundred times over. He’d gone through countless names and faces, dug his way through a bottomless well of theories and found none that could satisfy him. The closest he’d come was an assumption that only served to raise several additional queries; that this supposed suitor might have been someone that he, and perhaps even Blaze, didn’t know. Those flowers might have been sent her way by some daring admirer, perhaps having gained an admiration for the feline following one of her speeches. The cat seemed to loathe those even more than the meetings that preceded them, but there was no denying that Blaze could keep an audience on their toes.

He’d heard that the feline’s speeches scared some of the populous, the feline herself seemed to think they all did. Blaze could be stern, she could be gruff, but her every word carried a charisma that he couldn’t ignore. Whenever she was on a stage or even just in the room, he could barely take his eyes off of her. It was as if she was magnetic, capable of reeling him in without so much as trying. It wasn’t so unthinkable that someone else would see things as he did. Despite her disagreeing, he’d long assumed that was the norm.

The balcony was still empty. The rustling wind, the groan of his stomach and the chirping of the birds’ morning choir were making his ears ring. He’d be kept in the dark for some time, the sun rose from the castle’s front and set towards its back. This was intentional, so Blaze had told him. When the island had first been settled, this plot had specifically been designated for the palace and designed to grant a sunset view from the royal bedchambers. It was the very first thing decided upon, thought to aid in appeasing the Sol emeralds. Now though, it simply made for an astonishing view. Night was oh so long away, regardless of the path he took to it. He couldn’t dwell on that though, the mere thought made him even sleepier.

Silver dared to cast a quick glance skyward. He found that the clouds had begun to part above him, the deep navy he recalled had shifted more towards an indigo. He’d surely missed the sunrise for a second time by now but, as much as he loved to watch a good sunrise, this was more important. Time kept ticking on and on, its meandering waltz taunting him more and more with each passing second. Though he wholeheartedly believed his task was important and knew he wouldn’t regret this hungry isolation, the hedgehog couldn’t help but grow more aggravated at this secret admirer. What was taking them so long? If they wanted to hide from her then they should have delivered the flowers hours ago, around the one or two in the morning. Sure, they might not have known her schedule, but they had to assume she rose early, right? Thinking otherwise was-

In the blink of an eye, the white curtains were parted. For what couldn’t have been more than a second, Silver saw Blaze in her nightgown before she slipped back and into her room. Morning had arrived, morning had undeniably arrived, yet Blaze’s secret admirer was nowhere to be seen! Attempting to be subtle, trying his hardest to be stealthy, Silver fully poked his head from his bush and took in his greater surroundings. He was still flanked on either side by rose bushes, red lilies still bloomed in their plots before him and the grass looked entirely untrodden. No one had come, no one had even so much as passed though; outside of his presence and that of the flickies, the gardens had gone entirely untouched!

He dared to stretch to his full height, glancing over the hedgerows, only to find a similar scene lay behind him. Though his shift spooked some of the birds, it didn’t reveal any hidden person. No one was here, he was the only one here! If things were regular then Blaze was about to leave and take breakfast; she’d baked instead but that was beside the point, she was going to be out of that room in no more than twenty minutes.

Desperate, feeling sweat mount on his forehead, he half whispered yet half shouted, “Hey! Secret admirer, where are you?”

No reply, not even a movement, came.

As though it was some great feat of psychic might, a realisation made Silver almost faint. Blaze had already opened her curtains; she’d already looked out to the world below. Was she even going to look out her window again? But the events of today had happened, he’d already experienced everything first-hand! Her gift was still in the bush, her secret admirer couldn’t have missed their moment, why would that even happen?

He could feel sweat greasing his palms, he grabbed her gift and held it tight to remind himself that it was real. She had arrived at his home in that cute dress, though awkwardness had limited her, the feline had smiled at him in a way she never had before. It’d all happened, he could remember it clearly, but how many times had he changed the past? Was this his fault? By trying to observe the inciting incident, had he shifted the timeline in such a way that it never occurred? There were sayings about this, that changing the slightest thing could have drastic ramifications for the future. He’d never experienced that in all his travels, he’d always had to really try to change the world, work hard and fight. Little travels tended to make no difference, he’d go back to visit Amy or Sonic and find his future the same, why would that change now?

As his head rattled, Silver couldn’t help but cast his mind back. Blaze’s smile as she’d left the hut, had that just vanished from this reality? The effort she’d gone to this morning, was that gone too? She wouldn’t do it all without cause, she wouldn’t have lied to Marine about the gift; something had to have happened, flowers had to arrive. It was supposed to happen, it had happened! She’d worn that dress for a reason; those flowers must have meant a lot to her, but why?

In all his hours out here, in amongst the roses and the lilies, he’d not even consider it once. What was a bouquet to her when she had this garden filled with flowers?

That simple question spun into another; would she have done what she had for any stranger who delivered her flowers? Given her position, the guardian of the Sol emeralds surely received far more lavish gifts on a regular basis… didn’t she? She did. He knew she’d received flowers, flowers and so much more. Outfits from renown designers, jewellery from around the world, expensive foods and marvellous furnishings. What was a bundle of flowers on her windowsill compared to those gifts? He’d never seen her in that dress or any like it before, so it wasn’t as if her change in garb was tied to receiving just any gift. Was it because she thought it was from him? Had the gift’s form not mattered at all? Was the assumed intent behind it enough to change things or… did it mean more because it had come from him?

Giving gifts wasn’t unlike Silver, despite how difficult it was to pick gifts for Blaze. Usually he’d end up baking her a cake or cook her dinner, that way the effort behind his actions was clear even if it was a bit plain. His jam was a prime example of such a gift, something he’d made for her. Whenever she casually bought him things, utilising her great wealth, he’d end up jumping for joy and beaming. Blaze’s reaction to his gifts were usually more subdued but she always made her thankfulness clear. Though it was rarely as over the top as this morning, she always returned his gestures. Did she do that for anyone else? Surely, if she received so many gifts, being so personal would take up a ridiculous amount of time.

His heart was thumping against his ribcage, beating like their feet against the pavement as they’d fled from Iblis. What was he thinking, how dare he even think this? If was foolish, selfish, naïve! No matter how special their bond was, Blaze surely valued all the gifts she received.

But experience told him that she didn’t. Though Blaze took pride in her position as guardian, she didn’t care for baubles attached to it. She’d complain to him about public appearances and newspaper photos for hours on end, only wear her regular robes despite having a closet filled with different outfits. She didn’t even wear much jewellery, despite having boxes filled with the stuff. It seemed like those gifts, only conjured due to her position as princess, meant litle to the pyrokinetic. But did that mean, no matter how basic, a gift from him meant more? It was all so confusing, what had happened to her secret admirer? Why did they have to put him in such a difficult situation? What were all these feelings?

The clicking of a latch threw Silver from his thoughts and sent him tumbling back into the bush, the flickies immediately fled at one of those two sounds. From an even less comfortable hiding spot, awkwardly lying with her gift atop her chest and rose thorns in his back, the hedgehog watched as Blaze the cat appeared on her balcony. She was dressed, but not in the outfit he’d seen a few hours in the future. Despite her regular robes, the sight of her face as the cracked remnants of thoughts reconstituted in his mind was enough to set his cheeks alight. In a few hours from now, he’d say that Blaze always looked pretty. He’d always considered that to be the truth, but it’d be said out of impulse, as a way to quickly placate Marine. In this moment though, it was undeniable. Even in the shade of her castle, from such a difficult angle and obscured by countless branches, Blaze was beautiful. Her amber eyes could cut the dark so casually as to make the sun jealous.

But her coming out here now was practically a miracle, why had she done it? He wasn’t sure what time it was, but her bout of impromptu gift preparation would undoubtedly take an hour or more. For things to go as they had, she had to start now. Time had run out, the suitor had missed their chance, that smile and her joy was set to be erased from reality. For whatever reason, that person simply hadn’t shown up. Why? What could have happened? Where could they be? He’d been the only one here, it wasn’t as thought they’d got cold feet at the last second. There was no way, he’d stayed up all night, he’d have noticed if someone had come and gone.

It was then that Silver remembered one of the many thoughts he’d cycled through while waiting for the suitor. He didn’t know how time travel really worked, he’d read books and observed a handful of oddities, but he didn’t know the truth about all that. All he knew was that Blaze’s suitor was supposed to leave flowers on her balcony this morning, that Blaze would be leaving her room with no intent on returning any moment now, that he was the only one in range of her balcony and that he was surrounded by flowers. It seemed like the perfect set up for a very specific kind of time paradox that he had never experienced nor observed. A time loop of sorts.

Of course, he immediately dismissed that as a stupid thought born of his tired and hungry state. Having thoughts about their bond or how pretty she looked was entirely pointless now, the suitor was supposed to show up here and secretly drop off a bundle of flowers for the feline so that she’d come to him. That was how things were, that was how things were supposed to be. Besides, the flowers around him were her flowers; surely her supposed secret admirer would bring their own?

His thoughts were cut short as, without the birds chirping to obscure things, Silver was able to hear knocking at Blaze’s bedroom door. Marine had mentioned that the flowers were on her bedroom landing, but perhaps she had been mistaken? Maybe things were somewhere else then he’d have missed-

“It’s Gardon, your majesty! I’ve got news to share,” He managed to only just overhear.

Ah, it was Gardon, perhaps he was the one who delivered this apparent secret suitor’s flowers.

He watched as she turned to look into her bedchamber and spoke, “You may enter.”

“Your highness, I’m afraid a number of today’s meetings have been rescheduled. It’s going to be an earlier start than we anticipated,” Oh, that made things seem even more impossible. What time was it?

“Oh? Has something happened?” She questioned. If Gardon had brought flowers, then he’d have led with them, right? And surely she’d have mentioned them, Blaze was usually very blunt.

“Unfortunately, the manager of the island’s bridge projects has found himself double booked. Apparently, an environmental survey is set to occur for one of the construction sites. He is most apologetic, your highness,” No mention of flowers, nothing; Gardon clearly didn’t have them.

So, if this suitor was going to arrive then this was surely the moment. It had to be here, it had to be now, while she was distracted. They’d run up, throw the flowers, and run away… right?

Silver’s heart began to race once more. He cast his gaze to his surroundings but still no suitor had shown themselves, no individual had arrived to show their affection for Blaze. He was the only one here, he was surrounded by flowers and time was running out. That preposterous, ridiculous, and unfounded concept flagged within his mind again. He’d never known time travel to work as he was imagining. But then, he didn’t know how time travel worked in the first place.

“That’s fine, it can’t be helped, but, Gardon, how many times have I told you not to use that title,” With that complaint, the pieces all aligned, an opportunity had revealed itself.

Without another moment of hesitation, not so much as thinking as he moved, Silver stepped from the bushes and cast his hands to his surroundings. With power of psychokinesis, he clipped roses from the hedge and cut lilies to size. As flower after flower gathered in his psychic grasp he winced, regretting that he hadn’t foreseen this possibility in time enough to take flowers from literally anywhere else. He glanced to his surroundings, making a final check. There was no secret admirer, only him. Explaining himself this evening was going to be oh so awkward, perhaps even more awkward than if a suitor had appeared, but he didn’t have time to dwell on that.

“I-I’m sorry, Blaze,” The koala was stammering, it was almost like destiny! Rushing with his psychic powers, he threw himself into the air with her still to be made gift in one hand and his gift not yet given in the other, “It’s a failing of mine, I know. I must improve.”

He passed behind her and placed the flowers atop her balcony wall. Fortunately, Gardon had assumed a full bow as part of his apology and entirely missed the psychic’s appearance. The hedgehog passed entirely unnoticed.

“Regardless, I’m almost prepared. I’ll be down for breakfast, tell the manager not to worry,” Blaze sighed, turning just in time to miss the psychic as he flipped up and onto the castle’s roof. The very last thing he saw was her ears flickering as she noticed the bouquet.

“V-Very well, thank you,” Gardon’s voice, made almost inaudible by Silver’s new position, was punctuated by the closing of the bedroom door.

Silver didn’t dare look down from his roost, despite how desperately he longed to see the look on her face. Knowing what it led to, it must have been a smile just as beautiful as the one she’d worn before leaving his home. Still, this all didn’t quite sit right with Silver. There was still every chance that her suitor was supposed to show themselves, that he had just abused his power and interrupted someone else. Careful to remain outside Blaze’s potential view, the hedgehog dashed across the palace roof and scanned the grounds as best he could.

He kept to the rooftops, checking all directions in search of some hidden suitor whose plans he might have just ruined. None manifested, no matter how hard he searched, but it took the sight of Blaze leaving the castle, dressed as he’d seen and would go on to see her, for Silver to finally stop. No matter where he looked, no matter how he tried, he could find neither an individual fleeing the grounds nor anyone approaching with flowers. The hedgehog ended up near the front face of the castle, opposite to where he’d been, hiding behind a turret in an attempt to avoid any backward glances from Blaze. Dropping to his backside, his eyes fell upon clouds coloured scarlet and the sun drifting above the horizon. The day was just beginning in the kingdom of Sol; a slightly younger him was out there, still fast asleep.

There was a term for what he’d just created, for the time anomaly he’d just experienced. If everything had gone as he thought it had then Silver had just made a bootstrap paradox, but there was only one way to know for sure. He had to go back, he had to live in what he’d created. No matter how beautiful the sunrise was, it couldn’t compare to her smile, and he didn’t have time to rest.

---

His arrival at his own doorstep was a bumbling one. No less than five minutes after he left, but no more than ten, Silver the hedgehog manifested outside Marine’s shack. The hedgehog immediately did a full three-sixty, taking in his surroundings. As far as he could tell, there were no drastic changes from the morning he had lived through. Their beachside home was still untouched and Blaze was nowhere in sight.

Pressing himself against the building, the hedgehog dared to peer through the kitchen window. He immediately identified Marine, sat at the table and tinkering with a model boat. There was no sign of the feline inside or a time-displaced doppelganger of himself, everything seemed to be how he’d hoped it’d be. How it seemed and how it was weren’t necessarily the same though.

Feeling even more thoroughly exhausted after his jump back through time, he managed to barge his way into the house and locked eyes with the youngster, “Marine, what just happened? Is everything alright?” He practically snapped, stumbling over his feet as he slammed the door shut with his back.

“Silver? What’re you doing back already?” She asked, plainly surprised, but didn’t wait for his answer, “What do you mean what just happened, of course everything’s fine. You ran out there after Blaze… don’t tell me you got cold feet already,” Marine shook her head in disgust, turning back to work.

That was a good sign, but it wasn’t enough for him, “A-And what was she wearing? When she was here as in; was it her normal robes of something different?”

“You should know mate, you complimented her on that dress twice. What’s the matter with you? Why are you back here?” Marine questioned, “Honestly, she went to all that bother, dressing up and coming down here, early in the morning no less, just to see you and drop off a gift. Didn’t she teach you to say thank you for that kind of thing? Honestly mate, if you can’t act now, when will you?”

“Oh, so everything’s fine, just as I left it. Good, a-alright… I need to sit down,” The hedgehog said, going lightheaded with relief as he slid down the door.

He hardly heard Marine’s prattling in response. His eyes flickered to the cuckoo clock in the wall, barely eight minutes had passed since he’d left this building. It wasn’t even ten past eight in the morning, yet he’d endured at least a full day’s worth of stress. As strange as things were, they seemed to have settled down to embrace some kind of consistency.

The concept of a bootstrap paradox was one that didn’t come up in much literature, but there were a handful of tales about individuals traveling back in time to warn themselves of immanent events in bizarre and cyclical manners. He’d once read about a theatre enthusiast traveling back in time to meet a famous playwright only to end up writing all of their plays and living their life, thus inspiring that same fan’s own journey back to meet that same bard. Despite those fictional tales, Silver hadn’t considered that such a paradox was possible.

But, as he now knew better than ever, he didn’t know how time travel worked. He jumped back in time and really just hoped for the best. Perhaps it was all a lot more fluid than he’d imagined, maybe the rules weren’t set in stone so much as written in the sand of some interdimensional beach.

“Mate? What happened in the last five minutes?” Marine was now staring at him quite quizzically, “You look an awful state, are those leaves in your quills? Why are you so muddy?”

“It’s a long and strange and… stupid story, I’m not sure I even understand it myself,” Was all the explanation he could stand to offer, manually pulling himself back to his feet before waddling across the room to slump in his seat.

Immediately, his head was back to buzzing and filled to burst with questions. Who had sent that initial bouquet, who had set all this in motion? Was it better to ask what had set this all into motion or when they’d done it? Silver had no idea, just like the fan turned playwright he’d read about this happening to. They were impossible questions with no answer, at least none he could wrap his head around or ever hope to experience. The universe had made him question his relationship with Blaze, had him deliver her flowers and effectively set up tonight’s rendezvous as a date without any concrete or observable reason.

It took sitting there, half asleep, for a solid few minutes for him to even begin constructing plausible origins for what had occurred. Had a future version of himself, having come to embrace and understand the emotions now bubbling in the present hedgehog’s chest, travelled back in time and set the first bouquet on her windowsill? But then, in doing so, had they overwritten their own timeline and been erased while the events remained, resulting in him going forward and delivering the flowers instead. Would a version of himself really delete themselves from reality just to make himself realise he felt some strange feelings for Blaze a bit earlier? Why would they do that? Perhaps to change the timeline itself, to undo some different calamity.

If there had been an attack and he had lost Blaze again, perhaps that would have prompted the kind of introspection he was still experiencing. He’d lost her once; he didn’t want to even consider losing her again. Maybe a future version of himself had rewritten the timeline through the bouquet, attempting to change things between them in a major way such that the future itself might shift. Maybe he’d given up his life in order to perhaps save Blaze or the world. That seemed like a more traditional reason for him to use time travel, but perhaps the hedgehog was just trying to justify all he’d done and what had happened to himself.

Despite the depth of Silver’s tired contemplation, the pained moaning of his stomach was enough to rupture his thought bubble. The hedgehog’s eyes fell to the white paper parcel in his hand, now a little rough around the edges but still sealed. Hearing his stomach growl again, he finally undid Blaze’s bow and peered inside. A puff of smoke bellowed from the wrapping, forcing him to briefly close his eyes. In the aftermath, Silver found himself staring at six black masses with paper bottoms. Muffins, she had taken the time out of her morning to try and bake him a gift, to return his affection as quickly as possible. Despite their charcoaled exterior, Silver couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the confectionary.

Warmth swelled in his chest as he drew the first one and took a full bite. While it was harder than he’d anticipated, and there was certainly a smoky flavour, he could taste all that she’d tried to do. Blaze had sewn chocolate chips throughout sugary dough of her own making, clearly trying her hardest to make something sweet. Trying his hardest to savour, though urged on by his empty stomach, he quickly made his way through the first and onto a second small cake.

“Are you sure you want to eat those, mate? I could shoot them out a canon instead,” The raccoon cringed, clearly not appreciating the time and effort Blaze had put into her baking.

“I’m sure,” Regardless of what anyone else would think of them; to him, they were perfect.

“Are you still going to see her tonight?” She asked, already refocused on her work, “Gonna be honest, you really do look a state.”

“Yes, I’m still going,” He managed to admit between mouthfuls, “I think I might just nap till then though.”

“And you’ll shower before going too. You’ve set yourself up well, regardless of whatever all this mess is about. I won’t have you spoiling it by showing up filthy,” She insisted before launching into another rant, “Honestly, I don’t know why you decided to roll around in the mud instead of chasing her. Are you that much of a scaredy cat? Come on, there’s still time, she’s probably not running towards the castle; you could just fly out after her, sweep her off her feet, all prince charming like and-

As Marine’s words gradually became white noise, he lost himself in the potent flavour of another muffin and managed to smile. Fate had separated them in the wake of a grandfather paradox only to stitch them back together. For it to still be weaving them together was strange but not ludicrous think. Perhaps that stitch was still tightening, even now. Regardless of how blatant and tailored this supposed intervention had been, no matter how it’d unnerved him, he’d had to act. Not only was such a change in history a threat to his own timeline but the idea that her happiness might be erased was just too much to bear.

Was he going to be able to do this though? Fate had set them down such a strange path and short path; in less than a day their whole relationship had been flipped on its head. In the blink of an eye he’d gone from her companion to her secret admirer, from her best friend to some sort of supposed romantic. That thought warmed his cheeks and made his chest tingle in ways that were becoming frightfully common.

For as crazy as this morning had been, this evening was set to be far more insane. Could he explain this to Blaze? He had to, there was no way he could hide this, she’d know something was bothering him the moment he arrived on her balcony. Still, regardless of time’s whims tossing them about, he’d try to make his care clear. Whether prompted by fate or not, no matter how he struggled to face it, he’d been the one to do it; he was her secret admirer.

New and strange emotions still buzzed in both his head and heart but, as reality itself seemed to have insisted, these feelings were undeniably real, and they weren’t going way. He just had to figure out what they meant. Surely that couldn’t be more difficult than understanding time travel… could it?

#silvaze #Silver the Hedgehog #Blaze the Cat #sonic the hedgehog #fanfiction #valentines #sonic #silverxblaze

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hale-13 · 3 years

Text

En Pointe

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 24 Prompt - Stitches

No matter how much she hates the Red Room, ballet is still Natasha’s go to stress relief. Peter is just curious and eager to learn.

Words: 2311, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Natasha Romanov, Tony Stark

TW: Broken Bones, Blood

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

“You do ballet?” Peter asks curiously as he watches Natasha tear the shank out of her new pointe shoes. Her old pair is still in pretty decent shape since she only dances on occasion now but its always been relaxing to sew and break in a new pair and it never hurts to have a few back ups.

“Sometimes,” she answers cryptically as she steps on the toe box with her bare heel to flatten it out, Peter watches her fascinated, venturing further into the room and sitting cross-legged a few feet from her. He’s careful not to touch any of her old shoes or the ribbons and other tools and materials spread out in a semi-circle around where she’s sitting. “Why?”

Peter’s fingers are twitching where he has them pressed into his thigh like he’s holding back from touching. “I did ballet as a kid. Just a few months of classes before my parents died and I was terrible but it was fun.”

Natasha hums as she reinforces the toe of the shoe with glue and fans it a little to dry it out. “You probably wouldn’t be so terrible now,” she tells him as she bends one shoe and then the other, enjoying the cracking noise they make as she works them in. She looks over to Peter to consider him for a moment. “Want to try?”

“With you?” He squeaks and its kinda adorable how nervous he is. Nat suppresses a smirk as she puts on her toe spacers and worn out toe pads – the lambs wool she modified these with is absolutely perfect and she won’t even consider using another pair until these designate around her feet.

“Of course,” she answers, standing up and bending first one shoe and then the other before going up en pointe and squatting to work in both shoes. She’ll need to dance on them for a few hours before they start feeling really good but they aren’t too bad right now. Sometimes new shoes just aren’t right no matter how well she prepares them but she has a good feeling about this pair. “You seem mostly coordinated as Spider-Man at least, I think you can handle a few basic positions.”

“Uh yeah,” Peter says, jumping to his feet like an over eager puppy and making Natasha smile a bit. “Yeah that sounds great!” She can almost see his tail wag.

She gestures to the barre running the length of the studio Tony had put in the compound just for her and has them face each other, correcting Peter’s posture as she goes. His sneakers are ratty and falling apart and she wrinkles her nose at them. She taps them with the hard side of the box of her shoe. “Lose those. I don’t have a pair of men’s shoes lying around so you can just go barefoot for now.” Peter hastens to do as she steps into some resin, crunching the small rocks into powder and rubbing it into the sole, box and sides of her shoes. By the time she’s done, Peter has positioned himself back at the barre, barefoot and with the hems of his pants cuffed up to mid calf.

He looks a little nervous and intimidated so Natasha give him a little smile as she hands the barre with her left hand and adjusts herself into first position as Peter stares intently. “We’re going to do some plié to start I’ll show you the positions; this is first.” Peter’s more graceful than she expected, his legs easily falling into place without shaking or him losing his balance like most new students was. She’s almost impressed.

Peter’s a surprisingly quiet student – she’s seen him in the lab with Tony and in the field where the kid is definitely what she would describe as a chatterbox. He asks a few questions here or there but, for the most part, he just observes and follows her lead. He picks up the positions quickly and Natasha puts on some music and instructs him through her usual warm up. By the end he’s sweating a little but he looks relaxed and a little pleased with herself.

“Can you teach me to spin?” He asks her a little shyly but with an undercurrent of excitement, shifting his weight from foot to foot like an overeager puppy and Nat gives him a soft smile.

“Sure,” she says, ditching her point shoes and slipping into some flats. “So you want to start off…”

He falls over the first few times but he nails a sloppy spin the fourth time. He stumbles a little once he stops, arms akimbo and legs spread for balance with a surprised look on his face. He looks at her for a second with a clear expression of ‘did I just do that?’ before letting out an excited laugh and fist pumping. “Holy shit!” He says under his breath and Natasha laughs with him – his good humor infectious. “That was so fun!”

“Try it again,” she says. “And this time keep your arms tucked in tighter and you head fixed on a point. Like this,” she demonstrates again, focusing on a dent in the wall to keep her head from spinning with her body and to keep her from getting dizzy. Peter tries again and cleans up his form a little.

“I think I’ve got it,” he says after another few turns and then he starts again, spinning once, twice, three times and, on the fourth rotation she sees his ankle twist as if in slow motion. Peter lets out a grunt as he loses his balance and, instead of falling, tries to stick to the floor with his abilities. His momentum continues to pull him though and she hears his leg crack in a sound that echos through the studio over the soft music and makes her hair stands on end.

“Fuck!” Peter exclaims and he drops, hitting the smooth wood floor hard and immediately dropping onto his back, face ghostly. His tibia has broken cleanly in two near his ankle and twisted to break through the skin in a grotesque fashion, leaking blood onto the previously pristine floors. Natasha immediately falls back into her extensive first aid training and drops to the floor next to Peter, tying one of her leftover ribbons around his upper calf in a crude tourniquet.

“Let’s get medical down here FRIDAY,” her voice is calm even though her heart rate is elevated. Peter looks about two seconds from passing out but pushes himself up with prodigious effort only to turn green when he sees his leg, turning away from her abruptly to gag and retch. “Get it all out,” she tells him, rubbing a hand across his clammy back.

“It’s…” Peter gags again. “The bone… I…”

“Don’t look at it,” Natasha says firmly, pushing him back to the floor. “Tony told me you were accident prone but I didn’t know you were this bad,” she tells him with humor, pulling off the shrug she had put over her leotard and leggings and mashing it firmly into the wound, making Peter moan and turn white.

“It’s Parker Luck,” he tells her, sounding out of it. He looks like he may pass out and that just won’t do – she needs to keep him awake.

“What’s that?” She asks, brushing the hair off his forehead in a tender gesture and massaging his scalp a little.

“Just my specific brand of bad luck,” Peter says a little sardonically, his voice wavering from the pain. She wants to ask more but the door at the opposite end of the studio flies open hard enough to hit the wall and bounce back as Tony – helicopter mentor extraordinaire – skids into the room and literally trips over his own feet to get to Peter’s side. Natasha would roll her eyes if she wasn’t so concerned herself.

“What happened?” Tony asks her, tone accusatory and Natasha gives him a sharp look.

“We were doing ballet and he spun just a little too hard,” Peter groans from the floor, this time from embarrassment and covers his face with his hands muttering ‘just let me die’ under his breath. Tony flicks him on the forehead.

“Don’t be a dramatic little shit,” he chastises, still looking more worried than anything. “Only you would manage to give yourself a compound fracture learning ballet of all things.”

“Don’t be mean to me,” Peter whines. “I’m injured!”

Natasha can’t hold back her snort at this, the situation would probably be a lot less humorous if she didn’t know Peter would likely be completely back to normal in a couple weeks or less with his healing factor. The kid was like rubber.

“What did you do this time?” Bruce calls from the doorway, pulling a gurney and followed by a small gaggle of nurses. Natasha steps back and away as one of them takes over putting pressure on the still bleeding puncture and pulls Tony with her. She knows that if he had his druthers he would glue himself to Peter’s side and aggravate Bruce and the other medical professionals to death.

The team is quick and efficient in stabilizing Peter’s leg with a temporary splint and loading him on the stretcher, bustling out of her studio with Tony following just as quickly as they came in. Nat isn’t a big fan of crowds so she stays behind, cleaning the tacky blood off the floor before it dries and sets. As it is, the fine grains of the wood are tainted and she knows she has no chance of cleaning all of it out and resigns herself to dealing with flaking blood on the toes of her pointe shoes for the foreseeable future.

Satisfied with her clean up job, she slinks back to her room and showers, washing the remnants of Peter’s blood off her hands and forearms and the sweat out of her hair. She changes into some loungewear and dries her hair and, figuring she’s probably stalled long enough, grabs a book at random from her bookshelf and makes her way to the medical floor.

The halls are silently when she arrives thankfully and the waiting room is empty bar Tony. He’s seated in one corner facing the hall that leads to the operating and recovery rooms and tapping something into his StarkPad, reading glasses perched onto the tip of his nose and in danger of slipping off the end. He looks relaxed which she takes to mean the Peter will be just fine – not that she expected any different.

Tony jumps when she settles into the chair next to him, glasses falling to the floor and nearly fumbling his tablet. He sends her a glare without heat – he’s always complaining about her sneaking up on him but its not her fault he isn’t observant – and sets the tablet aside.

“Well?” She asks, quirking one eyebrow in expectation.

“He’ll be fine,” Tony tells her, relief clear in his voice. “They’d normally have to put in a pin or two but, with his healing, they just want to flush it out really well to prevent infection and then reduce the fracture and throw in some stitches and a brace. He’ll be on bed rest and crutches for the next week or so until the stitches can come out and he can transfer to a boot but he’ll be back up in no time.”

Natasha nods, she expected all of this really and pulls her legs up to sit cross-legged in the small chair. She didn’t do a cool down after her work-out and she can already feel all of her ligaments tightening up – her hips and knees crack as she adjusts and make Tony wrinkle his nose in obvious disgust. “He was doing pretty good for a while,” she says breezily. Kid’s got natural talent.”

“He can’t walk across a flat surface without tripping,” Tony tells her. “Don’t let all of his Spider-Man acrobatics fool you – Peter’s as clumsy as they come. His aunt should have wrapped him and put him in a bubble years ago.”

She laughs, elbowing Tony in the side and dodging his returning nudge. “He’s good for you,” she tells him honestly and Peter really is. She’s known Tony for a long time, considers him one of her closest friends barring Clint and this is the happiest and most settled she’s ever seen him. It makes her happy.

Tony blushes and clears his throat, trying to hide it but she can see the satisfied little smile on his face. He can’t deny his happiness. “Anyway,” he tries, changing the subject swiftly – she lets him. “You’ll have to help keep him entertained since part of this was your fault after all.”

“Not my problem the kid’s an accident waiting to happen,” she says with no heat. She already plans to hang around during Peter’s recovery. She can teach him more about ballet if he wants, he could shape up to be a pretty decent partner with some practice and she thinks it might help him a little with his balance and enhancements. Control of your body is important for both after all.

Later when Bruce leads them to Peter’s recovery room he gives her a knowing look that she ignores in favor of perching on the edge of the bed and teasing Peter about his poor technique. He’s high as a kite from the enhanced pain meds and cackles at her good natured jokes. Tony threatens to put him in a cushioned room for the rest of his life and Peter rolls his eyes like this is all par for the course.

He falls asleep again pretty quickly, drooling onto the pillow and twitching a little as he dreams and Natasha feels her chest feel with warmth.

Yes, she thinks Peter will make an excellent student.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump24 #Prompt: Stitches #irondad #spider man #Summer of Whump 2021

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acommonloon · 3 years

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TL;DR

about last night's mperfect ending. After stops at three Louisville venues, each more fun than the last, we decided to get a nightcap in New Albany. We didn't manage to get a drink at any of four stops in that sleepy town but we did witness a police officer chasing a black man down the side of State Street. Still watching for a news report.

Alternately a night for Morgans

_____________________________________________________________

D's niece's husband, J, is a sweet guy. He has almost no family of his own living in the area and his own family unit consists of an unruly teen (not his) a precocious 6 year old and 3 year old twins. It's a lot.

With that in mind, I always wait for him to contact me and he always earns his kitchen passes so when he texted me he had a free night out I was glad to hang with him. I only asked if he had a curfew. No sir. He's nearing 40 and regularly admits he wishes he could more often frequent the places D and I do, meaning bars and restaurants. I remember those days when self came last.

Our 1st stop was World of Beer. With 50+ taps and hundreds of bottles and cans sitting in glass front coolers directly across from the bar, it's one of my go to spots. J immediately set about building a flight of five small pours while I took my time picking one or two low gravity beers to sip since I was driving. They had two bartenders on this Wednesday night, Morgan was ours and our service was prompt and friendly. By the time we finished a plate of tots, loaded with melted cheese and fresh jalapeno slices I had our plan.

I hadn't been to Commonwealth Tap since before 2020. This small wine bar is in a movie set sort of town called Norton Commons. Think "The Truman Show." The houses were all built over a small number of years and though they are comprised of many different styles, with no two near each other being the same, they are on the same size lots and there is no variety in terms of weathering or decoration. Everything to plan. Unreal. Creepy.

I glanced at the wine list on a chalkboard noticing a Turley Zin at $18 and a Cotes de Rhone at $8. When the bartender asked what I wanted, I said, "Talk me out of the Turley and into the Cotes. He hesitated for a second and I said, "I want something minerally, earthy, not fruity." Like a Beaujolais Morgon or an Italian grown on the side of a volcano. Before he could reply, a guy sitting at the bar said we don't have that on tap. The Cotes is your best option and the bartender handed me a generous taste saying, try that.

I took the glass all the while evaluating the man who'd spoken up. He'd said "we" don't have that. He was alone at the bar except for us. I doubted he was just a bold regular, maybe drunk, who felt everyone benefited from his opinion, he wasn't drunk. Then he stood up and walked over the the wine racks. His search was one of familiarity and he pulled a bottle and sat it down on the bar next to me. Was he an employee or maybe a distributor on good terms with the staff? Then he began talking about the wine, about his many trips to France, and I suddenly I knew. "You're an owner here aren't you?"

He laughed and admitted he was. He introduced himself, Neal Morgan and for the next 40 mins or so he told us about himself and the bar. He told us about his wife, a pediatrician who worked for 20 years in Indiana and he went so far as to describe his Scottish heritage along with his general thinking about wines. When he said he was going a friend's house for a pizza party, I thought he was about to leave. Then he said he was going to take a kick ass wine but first he wanted me to taste it. It was a California pinot noir priced at $30 more than the first bottle he'd put down on the bar. It was fantastic! He gave us tasting notes and I admitted I couldn't perceive half of what he reeled off. I said he spoke like a sommelier and he laughed again and said he claimed he had a better palate than Kenny, the sommelier who worked for him. He thanked us for coming in and seemed sincere. When he left, J looked at me and said, "That was amazing." I laughed and said it was a Wednesday at a bar.

Before we left, I asked Rainha to make me a Penicillin and we talked about Scotch. She related how she introduced her brother to Scotch and now that's all he drank. We talked about how things were during the shutdown and I told her about a new place I'd been the previous Saturday. Outside, J exclaimed this was just the best time! He said he'd never be able to talk staff like that, let alone the owner. I said talking to industry people was one of my favorite things. They are so interesting and I think they find it refreshing when someone at the bar wants to hear about them instead of wanting to talk about themselves. Then I said, I know where we'll go next. Maybe Stephen is working.

Our next stop was at Cuvee Wine Table and Stephen greeted me at the door with a huge "Shane!" and a hug. If J was impressed with Commonwealth, I thought he should fasten his seatbelt. Stephen is a trip. Except, Stephen exclaimed I'm on this side of the bar now! To my quizzical look, he said he was the manager now. Amidst introductions, our bartender, Andie came over and introduced herself. She was tall, regally thin, and wore a colorful scarf on her head. She offered an engaging personality I perceived as professional banter but sensed alos she seemed to enjoy her job.

When I described what kind of wine I preferred, she said, "OOh how about a white?" Ooookay??? I thought to myself, this is going to be fun. Stephen came back as Andy set my glass down in front of me and asked, "What are we having?" Andie said, it's the Santorini. Stephen, a newly minted sommelier, immediately launched into an enthusiastic description about this remarkable wine from a Greek Island. He said it was so constantly windy, they braided the vine boughs into bowls to protect the fruit on the inside. I smelled it and it reminded me of a Sav Blanc but when I tasted it, I knew I'd found a new favorite. It had a salty savory aspect with more minerality than any white I'd had previously.

Andie was from Lexington and our other bartender, Heather, was newly arrived from the Nashville area. Heather was training behind the bar but seemed tres calm. At one point she asked us to wish her luck and I realized she was going to take an order. When she came back, I was a little surprised but delighted when J asked her where she was from specifically. It turned out they were from the same area and knew the same high schools and such. Great fun. When Stephen came and asked if we were eating, I said, "What am I having?" The cassoulet he responded immediately and then he tried to add in sweet breads but I insisted I was out on that. J selected a flatbread and when my giant bowl of white beans with pork and a small chicken leg came, I felt I'd got the better order. He admitted sheepishly he just didn't like beans and that was that.

I suggested we finish with a French brandy served in proper snifters and asked for a bottle of the Santorini to go home. It was full dark but comfortably warm walking to the car and J asked if I were up for one more on him. I suggested we go see Emily at Brooklyn and the Butcher. She made me a perfect drink in January and I'd been craving another ever since.

All the way to New Albany, J kept bringing up how much he enjoyed the two wine bars and how he hoped he and his wife could indulge in similar experiences when their children were older. He worried his wife didn't really like anything but sweet wine and was picky about that. I laughed and said D was exactly the same but she was game to hang out and recently started to appreciate ciders and frutied beers, and even some semi-sweet wines.

There were still plenty of cars parked on the street when we arrived at Brooklyn and the Butcher. I noticed there was no one at the hostess stand when we walked in but I breezed past into the bar. There were two women sitting at the bar and I was a bit disappointed when I realized the bartender wasn't Emily. I was even more so when she came over and apologized but said they'd closed already. I laughed and made a joke about the owner being an old man for closing so early then I realized who it was sitting at the bar. I asked, "Is that Emily sitting at the bar?" she said it was and I got up and walked over. We talked for ten minutes about my last visit and I asked her about her trip to Savannah. She kept apologizing for the bar being closed but I assured her I would be back. It was fine, we'd walk down to The Earl.

I got a bad vibe the minute we walked in. The bar was mostly full and there was only one bartender. He was wearing short shorts and took forever to get us a drink menu then never looked our way for the next five minutes. I suggested we go to Recbar nearby. There it was the same. The lone bartender, woman this time, was overwhelmed and though the bar was half empty she never looked our way before I lost patience.

Okay then. We were driving to my final option (so I thought) when I stopped at a light. J said, "Look at that! A cop is chasing that guy!" Sure enough through the sparse traffic I could see a black guy sprinting along the side of the normally busy road. His arms were pistoning up and down, his hands flattened into chopping motions like a track sprinter. Coming behind but steadily losing ground was a hefty police officer. He looked ridiculous and I can only imagine he might be thinking everyone watching thought he looked ridiculous. I wondered if he might pull his gun.

The light turned green then and I moved forward. That's when we spotted a car with the front passenger side crushed in where it had impacted the guardrail, on the opposite side of the road. There was a cop car with its lights flashing parked behind it. I couldn't see any activity around the cars as we drove past. About a half mile up the road we pulled into the parking lot of our 4th attempt to get a last drink. It was closed.

We laughed and decided we'd had enough fun. As we headed back towards the scene of the incident, sirens and flashing lights were suddenly all around us. I guess there was a manhunt. I weaved through parked cruisers while J counted eight more with lights flashing on side streets . Fifteen minutes later I dropped him off. He thanked me profusely but it nothing but what I like to do anyway.

20 mins later I pulled into the garage and for a second my heart did the little flutter it always does when I see D's car parked in its spot. Then I sighed remembering she wasn't home and wouldn't be for another week.

Just a Wednesday.

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notapaladin · 3 years

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you just gotta let it go (redux)

What makes a sickfic better? More snarky bitching about being sick, of course! Poor, poor Acatl.

Also on AO3.

Original version here

The second day of an illness was the worst.

Granted, the first day had been no garden of roses either. Acatl had gone home at the end of his long working day (two vigils, several hours’ worth of investigations into a nasty murder near the markets, endless accounts to square away) to a hastily-put-together dinner and the comfort of his own mat, but he’d barely lain down for an hour before his guts had begun to cramp and the first swelling of nausea had begun to travel up his throat. He’d thought—hoped—that it would pass. He’d always had a reasonably strong constitution, after all. Perhaps it was merely the heat.

And then he’d started vomiting. Poison had been his first thought, and he’d wiped his mouth and tried to stagger to the door only to faint after a single step. Praise the gods for Ichtaca; the man had heard him groaning as he passed and had leapt into action, sending runners for a healing priest before he could even think about protesting. Not that he’d been doing much thinking by then, honestly—whatever he’d eaten had come back for revenge, and he’d been far too busy trying not to completely disgrace himself.

Or at least trying not to faint. Fatigue had dragged at every limb, threatening to pull him under entirely; he’d collapsed on the floor next to the basin Ichtaca had fetched for him, unable to rise even to his knees as bone-breaking chills had shuddered through him. He’d barely even had the strength to continue throwing up, though his stomach had left him little choice. Dull, twisting pain wormed its way through his guts, and each blink had lasted an eternity. He been so exhausted that he hadn’t wanted to open his eyes again. He might not have if fear hadn’t compelled him, if a cold spike of terror hadn’t whispered if you close your eyes you’ll never open them again, and then where will you be? Do you want so badly for Teomitl to weep for you when you leave him behind?

He’d thought of Teomitl’s smile, Teomitl’s warm words and steady hands, and forced himself to remain conscious. Ichtaca stayed by his side and that helped, but when the man had helped him wipe his mouth—and gods, how humiliating had that been—he’d been sick all over again at the question that hissed through his mind like an arrow. Am I going to die?

He served Mictlantecuhtli with all his heart, but he did not want to meet Him yet. Not with so much left unsaid. The thought that it might be entirely beyond his control had been terrifying; in a brief burst of energy he’d thought of asking Ichtaca to summon Teomitl, but fortunately he’d thrown up again before he could voice it, and that had erased such rank stupidity from his thoughts. It would only make things worse if he survived.

He’d still been retching when the priest of Patecatl had arrived.

At least it wasn’t poison, he’d thought bitterly when he’d gotten the diagnosis. But the sort of illness you got from food that had gone off was downright humiliating, and to make matters worse the only cure was rest and plain meals. Plain. No chili. No other spices. Barely even any salt. If he’d been able to contemplate food without feeling nauseous again, he would have been miserable; as it was, he was waking only to drink water and drag himself to the chamber pot.

Because apparently, even when whatever had been in his guts was now quite comprehensively out of them, it had left its mark behind. He was exhausted. Even his experience with the plague hadn’t left him feeling quite this flattened; each limb felt like the Great Temple had come down on top of it, and he could barely rouse himself from his mat. At least he wasn’t afraid of sleeping anymore. When he spoke, he slurred his words like a base drunkard.

And of course he was forced to speak, because he had visitors.

He was awoken shortly after dawn by the arrival of not one but two more priests of Patecatl. Their cloaks marked them as part of the upper echelons of their temple’s hierarchy, and so he managed not to actually snap at them when they entered. It felt like an achievement just to speak coherently. “Thank you, but I’m feeling much better—”

The older one gave him a stare so full of judgement that he shut his mouth with a pang; it reminded him too much of Ceyaxochitl. “We have to monitor your condition, Acatl-tzin. You are our High Priest for the Dead.”

There were times he truly took pride in being High Priest for the Dead at all hours, whether at a feast or standing by the side of a pyre. This was not one of them. I don’t stop being High Priest for the Dead, no matter how sick I am. He made a face, but grudgingly sat up a little straighter. Or how much I’d rather be left alone.

At least submitting himself to a full examination didn’t require him to do much except be manhandled, and the healing priests were coolly professional and not inclined to make small talk. It still tired him out, and when the younger priest—Cuetzpalli, apparently—began casting a spell to strengthen his stomach, he actually found himself dozing off. The cut-grass smell of Patecatl’s magic was remarkably soothing when you were more than semi-conscious for it.

“Acatl-tzin?”

He blinked awake. Cuetzpalli had stopped chanting and was eyeing him with mild concern as he offered a hand to help him sit up again. He ignored it; he was not so far gone that he couldn’t manage that, even if the motion made his muscles ache. “My apologies. What’s the verdict?”

Cuetzpalli didn’t seem fazed by his curtness. No doubt he’d seen much worse, though he was barely a few years older than Teomitl; healing priests saw people at their very lowest, after all, and an irritated High Priest probably wasn’t even worth noting. “No poison nor magic that we can detect. Your dinner seems to have simply...disagreed with you. You’ll feel...ah, reasonably terrible for a week or so, but you are in no danger.” His face twisted in singularly unhelpful sympathy.

Acatl’s fists clenched in his lap. A week? Duality, I cannot afford to be laid low for that long! Horrible visions of his temple in disarray and the boundaries crumbling like old paper flickered through his mind, and he fought a grimace. No. It would be fine. He would return to his duties tomorrow, suffer through bland food until his guts settled, and everything would be fine. “Hrm.”

“You’ll be alright, young man.” The older priest—Necalli—didn’t smile, but his eyes softened slightly as he looked him over. “Don’t push yourself too hard.”

He couldn’t make any promises, but he was spared from having to lie; their visit apparently being over, Cuetzpalli was packing up their supplies. Soon they had both left, bowing very politely, and he’d collapsed on his mat again. Some vague twinge in his belly suggested he should attempt food, but even fetching one of the bland flatbreads Ichtaca had left for him seemed like a monumental effort. No, he would just lay here for now until he felt...well, not better, but at least more alert. The angle of the sunlight shifted through his one window, and he watched it blankly.

He slept. He woke, found the ache in his stomach had progressed to actual pangs of hunger, and choked down a few mouthfuls of dry flatbread and a cup of water before his gorge rose in protest and he had to set the rest aside. His stomach had been emptier than this for longer. He’d be alright.

He slept again. Time ceased to have meaning. There was only the sunlight moving across his floor, the humid air laying on his skin like a blanket. He lay like a lizard on his back, gently baking in the heat.

And then the entry curtain jingled. “Acatl?”

Oh, gods. Mihmatini’s voice. Groaning, he heaved himself upright, muscles protesting. “Ngghhh...” At some point he’d closed his eyes, and once again it seemed to take real effort to keep them open. Duality, he hoped the healing priests had been right and it was only an ill-chosen meal, and not something more serious. Last night’s panic had faded, but it was far too easy to bring to mind just how very inevitable—how very immediate—his death had felt. Lord Death, he prayed, do not take me into Your arms yet.

She sounded concerned. He was sick of concern. “We brought soup.”

...We…? The thoughts floating through his head were slow to arrange themselves into a semblance of order, but finally he realized that she wasn’t alone and managed to wedge his eyes open properly. There was Mihmatini, brow furrowed, holding a clay jug in both hands. And beside her, face twisted in worry, was Teomitl. “...Oh.” Oh, no. Not you. He felt vaguely nauseous again, and not just from the effort of sitting up.

She didn’t wait for him to invite her in, or even to rise; he watched, still feeling three steps behind reality, as she set the jug down on his table and went looking for spoons. There was a degree of bustling involved that made him dizzy to think about. “I really can’t believe I had to hear from Ichtaca that you were ill, Acatl, really—do you know how worried I’ve been? Food poisoning is nothing to dismiss!”

“It’s passed.” It had. Mostly. He had decided against making any sudden movements.

“Nobody gets over food poisoning that fast.” That was Teomitl, leaning in the doorway and frowning down at him. “You need to take better care of yourself.”

He frowned back, even as some part of his heart felt unaccountably warmed; Teomitl’s concern might be touching, but by the Duality it wasn’t as though he’d tried to get sick. Besides, he was a grown man. He didn’t need to be fussed over, especially not when it might make him start hoping. “...I take care of myself just fine.”

Teomitl turned his face away, glowering at the wall as though it had insulted his honor. Acatl knew by the face he made that he was probably chewing on the inside of his lip plug again; he wondered, not for the first time, if Teomitl had ever realized he only did that when he was agitated. He hoped he didn’t. It was oddly endearing, and he’d miss the sight. “What did the healing priests say?”

He grimaced at the reminder. “Very plain fare. And sleep.”

Mihmatini uncovered the jug, and the odor of plain, hot, and—suddenly most important for his stomach, which growled loudly enough that he blushed—salty turkey broth met his nostrils. “Do you think you could keep this down?”

For his sister, he’d try. Slowly, he nodded. “...Thank you.”

He hadn’t expected them to linger, but—evidently realizing that he absolutely wouldn’t be able to finish all of the soup by himself—they took their own seats at his table. It was pleasant not to eat alone in his own house for once. Teomitl was uncharacteristically quiet and kept glancing at Acatl out of the corner of his eye; before he thought of commenting on it, Mihmatini spoke up. “How is it?”

He looked down at his bowl and realized with a start that he’d nearly finished it. Each lift of the spoon to his mouth had been like trying to move a boulder, but he’d clearly been hungrier than he thought. He briefly had to struggle to remember how to speak; even the muscles in his tongue felt tired. A blink lasted longer than he liked. “...It’s good. Did you make it?”

Mihmatini snorted, shaking her head. “From the palace kitchens. I’m not this good a cook.”

Teomitl huffed, “You’re a wonderful cook.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “And you are a shameless flatterer.”

“I am being perfectly truthful—tell her, Acatl!”

Acatl blinked again, discreetly pinching himself to stay awake. Passing out in his soup bowl wouldn’t convince his family he was hale. True, Mihmatini was a skilled cook—but it was equally true that no priest of Patecatl would prescribe her food for him. It had entirely too much flavor, and the way she made soup would put meat back on the bones of a corpse. “...He’s right. Unfortunately, I’m afraid I’m in no state to appreciate it at the moment.”

She looked supremely unimpressed. He could actually see the moment she swallowed a sharp retort and picked up her spoon again. “I can see that. You look awful.”

He had to admit she had a point; he felt awful. Eating had helped briefly, but as soon as it settled in his stomach he had to battle another spike of nausea. If he stopped leaning on the table, he had a feeling he’d fall over. “Thanks.”

Mihmatini sighed, pushing her now-empty bowl away. “I wish I could stay, but I have to get back to the Duality House.”

“Guardian lessons?”

She made a face. Acatl couldn’t blame her; she hadn’t told him much of what her unexpected ascension to Guardianship had entailed, but what little she’d let slip suggested it was unpleasant. If nothing else, she was having to learn in weeks what took most women years. He did not envy her. “Guardian lessons.”

Teomitl reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’ll see you later.”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, and for a moment Acatl was concerned. Had they had a fight at some point? But then she smiled, warm as always. “You’d better. Remember what we were talking about earlier.”

Teomitl swallowed hard and nodded. “Mm.”

And then she rose gracefully, favoring Acatl with that same narrow-eyed assessing look. “And as for you, you’d better take it easy. Ichtaca told us you collapsed a few times last night.”

It wasn’t like he’d made a habit out of it. Besides, the floor had been comfortable even with that nagging, irrational concern that he might fail to wake up. On a full stomach and with something approximating sleep under his belt, that fear felt ridiculous now. He glared back at her. “I’m not that sick. I’ve no intention of fainting on anyone.”

“Don’t worry.” Teomitl smiled, and the brief flash of radiant warmth made Acatl’s face heat. “I won’t let you.”

She sniffed, unswayed. “Hm. I’ll be back later to check on you.”

And then Mihmatini left, and they were alone. Acatl found, suddenly, that he couldn’t quite manage to look Teomitl in the face. The gods knew Teomitl had seen him injured before—had taken care of him, even, and Acatl knew he’d never forget confident hands bandaging his wounds or strong arms helping him to safety—but battle wounds were an acceptable form of weakness, one that struck down even the greatest warriors. It was entirely different to be ill and run-down in front of Teomitl, who valued strength so highly; a man who thought limits were for the weak surely couldn’t still respect him when he could barely muster the energy to stand. In a moment. In a moment I’ll get up and clear the table. I don’t need a—a nursemaid, Tlaloc’s lightning strike me. He just needed to brace himself and move slowly.

Teomitl beat him to it. He was already on his feet and clearing away the remnants of their meal when Acatl set a hand on the table to heave himself up; when he caught sight of the movement, he shot him a savage glare. “Stay still. I’ll handle it.”

He could force himself to his feet; he’d worked in worse conditions and through much greater pain. Nothing would ever be as bad as the plague had been. But somehow, it didn’t really seem worth it to argue. So he stayed where he was and prayed for patience, staring at the knotted pine grain of the table. It needed a wash. “...So you’re to keep me company, then?”

Teomitl turned to look over his shoulder at him, eyes dark and serious. “Someone should.”

He took a slow breath. Even through his exhaustion, the reminder of his state—that Teomitl looked at him and thought he shouldn’t even be left alone—stung bitterly. Even though he could be weak, came the treacherous thought. Even though Teomitl would let him. Would help him lay down, put his arms around him...no. He shook his head firmly, banishing those thoughts before they could make him remember what had come to him in the dead of last night’s pain. It was still hopeless, and he would not plead his way into Teomitl’s heart. “I’m not an invalid, you know.”

“I know you aren’t.” And then Teomitl smiled, teasingly innocent, and Acatl’s heart skipped a beat even as he continued, “But isn’t it the job of the student to tend to his master’s needs?”

His eyes narrowed. Irritation was starting to revitalize him; in some small part of his mind, he suspected this was Teomitl’s plan. “...And you aren’t my student anymore.” He hasn’t been since...the courtyard? No, before that. It just took me too long to see it. He is my friend, my brother-in-law, and one day he’ll be my Revered Speaker. But he’s not my student, and he shouldn’t have to take care of me even if he was.

The table clean, Teomitl sat down by him within arm’s reach but not touching. Acatl found himself glad for that; he wasn’t sure if he was alert enough not to give in to the absurd urge to lean against him. His former student’s shoulders looked appealingly solid. “And we’re all glad for that. But that doesn’t change the fact that you could use some company, if only for a distraction. I’m good at that.” A smile still tugged at the corners of his lips, warm eyes looking Acatl over. “Please?”

Oh, no. Not the please. It struck him harder than a physical blow, and he had to look away. Duality preserve him, he’d been right. Teomitl would let him be weak. And he’d thought his feelings would fade? That he’d be able to bury them forever? Gods, he was such a fool. It was a terrible time to be proven wrong. I should be stronger than this. “...I won’t...” He yawned, suddenly almost too tired to make his tongue work. The soup had only been a temporary boost after all. “I’m sorry. I won’t be a very good host.”

“...That’s alright.” Teomitl was gazing at him with fond exasperation, and he couldn’t bear it. “Rest, Acatl. I’ll be here when you wake.”

He couldn’t let that pass without comment, no matter how much that same small, treacherous part of him was warmed by the thought of companionship. “You have a job. Your own duties...”

Now Teomitl did reach over, putting a hand gently on his shoulder. It warmed him to his bones. “Over for the day. Lay down.”

He couldn’t do anything but obey. Even the simple act of sitting up and eating had wrung him out like a damp rag; he could have passed out on a bed of obsidian shards. His thin mat was a miracle in comparison, and he managed to keep his eyes open just long enough to watch as Teomitl settled down on his haunches and swept him with a slow, considering look. The thought that slid through his mind like a snake—gods, you could kiss me if you wanted—still wasn’t a match for the tides of dreamless sleep pulling him under.

When he opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was Teomitl’s back. It was, he thought idly, a very nice back; Teomitl had shed his cloak for the sake of the heat, and so Acatl had an excellent view of the line of his waist and the curve of his spine. There were no scars upon it, for he would never be one to willingly turn his back on a foe. The knowledge lifted his heart with a kind of soft pride. My fearless man. You who will lead Tenochtitlan to glory. I cannot wait to see what kind of Emperor you’ll make.

Then Teomitl stretched, back arching, and the affection curling gently through him sparked into something hotter and darker. Gods, he’d almost forgotten. He could go days now without thinking about the warmth of Teomitl’s voice or the strength of his hands, but here he was being viscerally reminded that they couldn’t be ignored forever. That the feelings which had sustained him through many long nights wouldn’t melt with the dawn. That not even what he’d thought with sharp terror would be his actual death could successfully smother them. Duality curse me.

He must have made a noise, because Teomitl turned to look at him. “Acatl? Ah, you’re awake. Do you need anything?”

His mouth had gone dry at some point. Swallowing didn’t help. “...Water.” If nothing else, it would be cold. He could use the cold.

Teomitl rose to fetch water, and he busied himself with trying to sit up. It took a few attempts as his heavy limbs fought his control, but by the time Teomitl returned he’d managed the disgustingly difficult task of rolling over. Teomitl’s hand between his shoulderblades steadied him as he heaved himself up the rest of the way, and for a long moment he drank in silence. His stomach felt better, but his heart didn’t.

It wasn’t until Teomitl took his hand away and sat down next to him that he found words. “I’m surprised you’re still here.”

Teomitl jerked away, glaring at him; for all that he’d only spoken the truth, Acatl still felt himself flush as he snapped, “Did you think I would leave you alone?!”

“It must be late.” It was. The afternoon sun had turned dim and gold, sinking into Teomitl’s skin and hair. Sunset couldn’t be far behind, and he would be well enough to properly offer blood to the gods again. There was no need for Teomitl to watch over him like a mother jaguar with cubs. But he wants to, because he cares about you, whispered his mind, and he took another sip of water to cool the heat of his skin.

“I don’t care.” Duality, and he growled like a jaguar, too. Though he huffily turned his face away, Acatl saw his hand twitch; it was all the warning he got before it came down to rest atop his own free one. “You stayed with me when I was ill, and that was contagious. Do you think I wouldn’t do the same for you?”

He couldn’t think. Teomitl’s hand was on his, callused and warm, and he was fairly sure all sensation in his body had been rerouted to that single point of contact. He was surprised he hadn’t dropped the cup, and managed to set it down before he could. “I...uh.” He was unconscious, deep in his delirium. I didn’t think he’d remember. Gods, I was so afraid he’d never even wake. But he did...and…

It seemed to take an eternity for him to dredge up a full sentence from the mire of his thoughts. “You don’t...have to...”

Teomitl’s voice held nothing but certainty. He might as well have been making a royal proclamation. “Yes. I do.”

“...Oh.” It seemed to be all he could say. There was more locked behind his teeth—you are the best of men, I don’t deserve you, you’re a reckless fool sometimes but that’s alright because you still hold my whole heart safe in your hands—but he didn’t dare open his mouth and let it fly out. If he started down that road, he’d never stop. And Lord Death had not seen fit to take him into His embrace last night, so a sudden and fatal relapse wouldn’t save him either.

For a long while, Teomitl was silent. Though he sat as still as a statue, the fingers covering Acatl’s own twitched as though he wanted to curl them around his hand. Finally, still without looking at him, he spoke. “Do you have any idea how I felt when I learned how sick you were?”

“I was not that sick—” he began.

Teomitl didn’t let him finish. “Yes. You were. Ichtaca was shaking when he told us you were finally keeping down liquids.”

He dropped his gaze to his lap. Mired as he’d been in his own terror, Ichtaca had felt like a rock beside him. He’d had no idea the man had been frightened too. “...Oh.”

“Oh,” Teomitl mimicked, a spark of nastiness in his voice that faded almost instantly to that tight, flat restraint. “You terrified us, Acatl. You terrified me.”

Storm Lord’s lightning blast him. He couldn’t even attempt a reassuring smile, for Teomitl’s words struck him to the core. Still, he mustered up the energy somewhere to make an effort. “I’ve felt worse than this and lived. You needn’t have worried.”

Teomitl swiveled around to glare at him, eyes hot and suspiciously bright. “Don’t say that! Don’t you know how important you are to me?”

“Ngkh.” He knew he was blushing again, but he couldn’t have torn his eyes from Teomitl’s face if his life had depended on it. It was one thing to be pretty sure Teomitl cared about him, but another thing entirely to hear it confirmed. “I...” I am High Priest for the Dead. His teacher. His friend. That’s all he means. “But...”

“No buts.” Teomitl shook his head, squeezing his hand tightly. There was a terrible tremor in his voice. “You have to take care of yourself, Acatl. Understand? I don’t...I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. I can’t lose you.”

His heart stuttered in his chest, and for a dizzying moment he thought he was going to faint again. “I know how you feel.”

“..Do you?” The bite of skepticism couldn’t quite hide that moment of hopeful hesitation.

He inhaled. “...Last night...” He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t. But Teomitl wasn’t saying anything; he was giving him the space to find his words. That made the difference, in the end. “Last night...I thought I was going to die.” He still wondered idly at the possibility, but it no longer filled him with heart-clenching fear. There was only one thing he would have regretted, after all. Now Teomitl was staring at him in horror, but he made himself press on. “And I thought of you.”

Teomitl’s eyes were wide, his fingers trembling. Now Acatl knew the expression on his face, that stunned sort of hope that didn’t quite dare to step into the sunlight yet. “Me?”

He nodded. Yes, you. Always you. “I thought—if I died here, I would never get to tell you that I—” But courage failed him, and he swallowed with a dry click.

Teomitl was still staring at him. Unfortunately, this didn’t let him off the hook. “That you what?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. It was a coward’s move, but then he had always been one, hadn’t he? Or else it wouldn’t have taken the fear of death to force the words out. “I love you,” he blurted out, and when Teomitl didn’t immediately react in rage or disgust he added, “I wanted to be sure you knew.” Even if you don’t love me back in the same way. Even if you’re about to break my heart, I’m giving it to you to break.

He heard a slow, deep breath. A shaky whisper of “Acatl,” more shock than outrage.

And then Teomitl kissed him.

His mind went entirely blank. There was only the soft pressure of warm lips on his, slow and careful and gods, so gentle. He had no idea what he was doing, but Teomitl clearly did; he tilted his head just so, parted his lips just a fraction, and Acatl was lost. Gods, he thought dizzily, I love you so much. Teomitl slid strong arms around his waist, and for a moment he thought that hold was the only thing keeping him upright. He wondered if it was possible to swoon just from a single kiss. Well, he was still ill. It might be.

When Teomitl pulled away, his eyes were shining. “I can hardly believe...Duality, Acatl.” He gave a little shake of his head, as though to express the utter impossibility of their situation. A wry little disbelieving smile tugged at his lips. “I was halfway to convincing myself to give up.”

Acatl blinked at him as the words rearranged themselves into something that made sense. His brain clearly wasn’t up to its full capacity yet, because Teomitl couldn’t have said what he thought he said. “You what?!”

Now it was Teomitl’s turn to blush. “I have wanted you for—gods, for years. I knew it was hopeless, but when I thought I would lose you...”

Things clicked slowly into place in Acatl’s mind. Passing glances, lingering touches, a hitched breath. Years, he said. Years. “...Does Mihmatini know?” He remembered her hard-eyed stare, the way Teomitl had looked almost nervous at whatever she’d said, and ice gripped his heart again. He wouldn’t be the cause of strife between them, no matter how much Teomitl made his heart race. He wouldn’t do that to her.

Teomitl drew himself up, glaring at him. He was still flushed, but Acatl judged it more embarrassment than guilt. “She does. Do you think I’d go behind her back, especially after the last time?” He didn’t have to elaborate. Things between him and Mihmatini had been so frosty for a few weeks that she’d practically spat when mentioning his name. Acatl wasn’t sure how they’d reconciled, but he was starting to get a few, somewhat embarrassing, ideas.

The ice was starting to thaw. He took one deep breath, and then another. If she knows, then... “Then...what she mentioned, about you two having spoken earlier...”

“You know how she is. She...suggested I consider the possibility of mentioning my feelings a while ago.” Knowing Mihmatini, suggested was probably far too polite a word. Teomitl quirked up a smile and added, “But I wasn’t expecting you to beat me to it.”

He found it much easier to breathe when he knew he wasn’t ruining his sister’s marriage. “After last night...I had to let you know. In case fate saw fit to separate us. I didn’t want to die without telling you how I feel.”

Teomitl’s gaze had softened like melted wax, and it was just about as hot. “Maybe you should tell me again.”

His heart kicked within his chest. Feeling suddenly bold—he’d come this far, after all—he shot back, “Why don’t I just show you?” Even raising the possibility of what such a demonstration might entail made him blush all over again, but...well. Teomitl deserved to know the full truth of his feelings, and honesty had already brought him great rewards. I took vows of chastity, of celibacy. I would break them all for you if you asked. Gods, I would break them all if I thought you might ask.

For a moment, Teomitl simply stared at him—face flushed, lips slightly parted, eyes heated—and Acatl knew he was going to be kissed again. Knew it and welcomed it, lingering illness be damned. He would figure out a way to be kissed by Teomitl if he were dead.

And then he grinned teasingly and murmured, “Then you’d best focus your energies on getting well again, hadn’t you?” and Acatl had to stifle an urge to groan.

#obsidian and blood #acatl #teomitl #teocatl #mihmatini #paladin writes stuff

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sanstropfremir · 3 years

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i really liked ur long post re. kingdom! and agree with ur points; when i was watching the clips, i didn’t really consider the production design and camera set up but the points you made makes a lot of sense why i felt the 4th gen groups were so awkward to watch.

(also, i read ur post once and haven’t fully digest so i’m sorry if i mix things up!)

and GAH, thank you! whenever i read ateez’s comments, they praise jongho for being the only 4th gen vocal but like... ya he sings live yay but also it sounds like he’s hurting his throat and it isn’t very pleasant. i’m not familiar with technique or any of that but as a casual listener, i’ve always been drawn to seonghwa’s vocals and think he has potential if given great training!

also, yes to bobby! he was the only one who looked happy during the stage (and the rest of ikon when they weren’t performing). maybe it’s because it’s their FOURTH competition show and they’re just over it (but hey, it’s better than not working at all). i feel like 4th gen bgs have adopted so many ‘dark’ concepts to be considered ‘good’ or whatever but it all blends for me. they keep giving me blank stares and i don’t feel anything lol i hope as the show progresses, they play with different concepts (pls i hope btob doesn’t feel pressured to mimic the same things as 4th gen to win).

ah thank you!! part of the reason why i decided to do these reviews in the first place is precisely because there are SO few people talking about the production design+staging in kpop. designers are the last rung of people in the performance hierarchy to get properly acknowledged and paid for their work (in canada for example, there is no union for theatrical designers), and this is me doing something to give credit where it’s due and to bring up an INSANELY important element of kpop that like....never gets talked about.

hanya’s vocal technique primer and breakdown does a really good job of explaining the flaws in ateez’s performance, much better and in more detail that i did, so i’d recommend reading that if you're interested in learning more about technique! seonghwa and wooyoung have some of the most promising potential because they do actually have the ability to switch between head and chest, whereas jongho is trying to force the ceiling of his middle without making the jump. i think he actually might be able to switch to head because there is a clip somewhere that i saw of him doing a semi-passable ‘parody’ queen of the night aria from magic flute, but i have only seen it once and my memory is garbage. long story short is there would be a lot more ability in all of these 4th gen boys if the companies paid for vocal lessons instead of tricking.

i often equate dance and acting because dance IS acting. yes, they are uniquely different skills, and not everyone who is good at one is good at the other, but they both have the same core motive of trying to communicate. what one is trying to communicate and its authenticity is another question altogether and i have some real weapons-grade hot takes about that, so i will leave that alone for now, but there is an overlap of skill between dance and acting that often gets overlooked, especially in commercialized hiphop dance (which kpop is).

in the case of 4th gen performance face, there’s two common causes. the first is ‘focus face,’ where the dancer is so focused on actually dancing that they just don't do anything with their face. yunho from ateez is a good example. he's very sweet and i know he has a personality somewhere but as soon as he steps on stage his face absolutely shutters. not technically a flaw, since he is a talented dancer, but that’s the difference between him and san. san knows how to work his stage charisma, and yunho doesn’t. this is super common among even professional dancers, but it can also be unlearned. the second is ‘serious face,’ which conversely, is a product of overthinking. this is extremely common within 4th gen boy groups because of the uptick of ‘dark’ concepts. there isn’t anything wrong with dark concepts as a whole, but because there has been a huge glut of them in the last couple of years and especially since rtk, they've lost some of the visual punch but also a lot of them in the first place don't have a strong underlying theme. for a dark concept to work there needs to be very clear visual intent and narrative. ‘look at me im wearing all black and looking serious’ isn't a concept, it’s a cardboard standee of gerard way. obviously there’s been a general geopolitical trend towards ‘dark and gritty’ things that's been happening over the last...since whenever man of steel came out, but within kpop specifically there’s the hole that vixx left and the new groups are scrambling to fill it, but they don't have the experience or stage presence or frankly the stones to pull off what their ADs are trying to get them to do. the only group that’s come even close to pulling off a vixx level concept is oneus with to be or not to be and i stand by my decision. more shakespearean concepts please and thank you. this got derailed from me talking about serious face but tldr of that is that because the dark concepts have become mostly aesthetic rather than emotionally or narratively fueled, it means that performers don't really have much material to work with, so it manifests especially in inexperienced performers as ‘im going to look serious because serious is sexy.’

this got way too long but unfortunately that is just how i am as a person. i agree anon i do hope that btob (and every other group tbh) doesn’t fall under the dark concept/4th gen pressure, and that we see more creative stages in future episodes. if i have to look at another royalty concept i will scream.

#kingdom #should i make a tag for kpop questions? maybe i should make a tag for kpop questions #kpop questions #i have many more things to say about all of this but i will stop for now because this is already so long #again im super happy to discuss questions and opinions so if you have any feel free to shoot me an ask #Anonymous #i can make longer posters elabourating on certain points if people want to hear more also #just lemme know #kpop analysis #text #kingdom review responses #answers #kingdom asks

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cestcirque · 3 years

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HI OKAY SO I TOO ALSO WANT TO SHARE MY THOUGHTS AND THEORIES SO FAR SINCE WE ARE NEARING THE END OF THE CARDINAL SET AHHHHHHHHHHH 😦 (we’re in for a long message people 😳)

okay so ever since i saw you say these to other readers who have shared their theories and pointed out clues (continue underneath the three photos LOL):

i definitely thought at first that it’s a story of each yn ending up with each of the main setter (tl yn with semi, extrema yn with atsumu, screentone yn with akaashi) but now i feel that’s possibly not the case right? 😶

as of rn, i’m thinking that possibly atsumu ends up with screentone yn, semi ends up with extrema yn, and akaashi ends up with tl yn 🤔 BUT IDKKKKKKK AJXMSKXKSKXSI like I feel that their respective stories is really all about how both the setter and mc learn about love, relationships, what they REALLY want and need in a partner and the different stories just shows their pov of things??? they’re just constantly learning more about themselves and their potential love interest(s)

i also went back to read your psychoanalysis and clues for semi, atsumu, and akaashi that you released under aperture and seeing what kind of partner they NEED which also brought me back to this post that you released before and recently reblogged again:

i forgot to screenshot but someone else had the thought about how akaashi offers stability to tl yn since she can be volatile since akaashi does that to bokuto and the fact that tl yn has akaashi saved as le reve which translate to the dream compared to the name she has for semi which is le jouet which means the toy. tl yn has like a sexual tension relationship with semi but i know they’ve gotten closer after learning about each other’s ex. she also had “angry sex” with atsumu a few chapters ago but other than that, they don’t really interact so i don’t think they’d be interacting again any time soon. but when she’s with akaashi? idk what word to properly use but it’s like she softens up with him and kinda gives him adventure??? almost inspiring if you ask me and it seems like he offers her contentedness and companionship too

screentone yn has akaashi saved under as hopeless romantic and then i can’t remember what she has semi saved under but she has atsumu saved as like #11 right? and the fact that she sees atsumu on equal grounds and she doesn’t know too much about him other than his volleyball career kinda hits home? like that whole chapter of them talking and atsumu helping her realize what she really wants to do (career wise) was an endearing chapter and i felt that really connected them together. in your analysis, you said that atsumu needs someone who understands him because of his drive, i guess someone who will stand by him right? screentone yn is known to be hooked onto passions easily too so she can also understand atsumu on that level. when she interacts with semi, i don’t see any hope LMAOOOO like it’s not even in question other than their one night stand. when she’s with akaashi, she’s like very hesitant getting to know him personally vs talking to him about work. it seems like she wants nothing more but to keep it strictly a professional / friends only relationship 😗

finally extrema yn. i’m iffy about her the most LMAOOOOO like i’m sus especially since she’s a graduate of nohebi high 🐍🐍🐍. i can’t read her too well other than the fact i can clearly see how driven and ambitious??? she is, running too fast to care. i can also see how easy she makes it to truly be yourself around her. she easily did that with atsumu and semi. akaashi isn’t in question since they’re exes and she doesn’t want to talk to him at all LMAOOOOOO. since atsumu knows what her plans are, they work well in that sense but, i really like how she got to hear semi’s “real” voice, getting him to *mostly* be himself. after extrema chapter 16, idk how to feel about semi LMAOOOOOOOO. but it seems like she genuinely enjoys hanging out with him? compared to being with atsumu, she knows she’s doing it just for publicity because she wants to help atsumu with the relationship rule. and now she’s saying she doesn’t need anything else from atsumu? that definitely got me thinking she doesn’t actually care much about atsumu right now 😶

BUT ANYWAYS YEAH THIS MESSAGE IS HELLA LONG AND THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK LMAOOOOOOOO. I REALLY WENT OFF 🥴 I’D LOVE TO HEAR WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT MY THOUGHTS RN LOLOLOL. THIS IS SO FUN AND YOUR BRAIN FR WORKS IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS 😝

HI MY LOVE 😍 since this message is already long, I’ll put my answer under a cut ⤵️

A lot of people have been looking back to Aperture’s secret clues to find some kind of structure for these relationships, but remember The Cardinal Set already has its own structure: the full, cardinal set 😅

That is, the three points of a relationship—companionship, romance, and intimacy. Perhaps it might help to review Yukie’s insight from Layer 8 👀

Yukie also mentioned that Akaashi changed after his relationship w Aperture Y/N failed... perhaps the type of partner he needs would have changed too?

Anyway. All 6 of our main characters are lacking certain points of the cardinal set... but which ones?

And as for your feelings on Semi and Extrema Y/N, they certainly are the “least trustworthy” of the setters and Y/Ns, no? But do we remember what Aperture Y/N told Semi about trust??? It was mentioned again briefly in Trompe-l’œil. (This is really what I’ve been trying to nudge with my author’s notes about tRUSTING SEMI, I’m not trying to make you guys doubt him 🤣)

#marissaraeblr #long post #very long post #ask

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nessabear05 · 3 years

Text

A Day To Remember, a Nea x Yui Oneshot

#2k21BVryKnd

#SilverRescueTeam

#SRT

This is a commission collab I did with my friend Fizzie! Basically, we came up with the idea that we give each other characters and a third or first-person POV to go off of, and we write a story just based on those. She posted hers a day or so ago, so go check it out and give it some love!

Fizzie’s Story: http://aminoapps.com/p/u8pxte

Keep in mind…she doesn’t know the plot ;) But I decided with the number of characters she gave me, I would do an AU where they just have a girl’s day! She gave me Nea, Yui, Laurie, Claudette, and Meg to work with! Hope you enjoy girl!

Also uh....had to add a little side ship of your OTP since I know how much you like Quendette :)

Word Count: 1,929

━━━━━⊱✿⊰━━━━━━

The weather was perfect today. The sun was shining, no clouds to be seen...it was just a great day to get out and do something. And that’s exactly what this group of friends was doing. But they weren’t going out just as a last-minute thing, this was all planned out months in advance. And it was going to happen no matter the conditions.

Why so dead set on going out? Well, today was an extremely special day for two girls, in particular, those girls being Nea and Yui. The two had been dating for...well what seemed like forever. But they had been dating for around four years maybe? Ever since the beginning of college. And well...within the next couple of days, they were going to get married. And who else would be a part of their wedding if not their group of friends they had been with basically since they were children?

Now, things weren’t always great for this group of girls, but honestly, it always worked out in the end. And today would hopefully be no different. The five of them were just supposed to go out and get their nails done, then go to lunch afterward. And it was all supposed to go according to plan, but you know, nothing could ever go perfect, especially not with this group.

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It had all started this morning, and can you guess who the first one to screw up was? If you guessed Nea, you would be correct. The girl had forgotten to set her alarm the previous night, and Yui had gone to spend the night with some of her old friends from Japan that had flown down to America for the wedding of their friend. They had stayed at the hotel, but they weren’t coming with them to get their nails done today. Since it was just going to be the two bridal parties together.

And as anyone could have guessed, Yui was not that happy to find out that Nea had forgotten an alarm on a pretty special day. But, Nea had apologized profusely as she ran around the house quickly getting changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt, all while their three friends Laurie, Meg, and Claudette giggled at the couple’s antics. The lack of Nea being prepared did not make them late though, so that was a little bit of a bonus to the shitty beginning of the day.

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When they arrived at the nail salon, everyone was no doubt, excited. Nea was talking with Meg and Claudette as they walked in, trying to decide on a matching color. Since the two were her bridesmaids, she wanted to make sure she picked out something they all liked. In the end, they had decided on a pretty light pink color. Since Nea’s dress was white, sticking with the traditional way of things. Well, as traditional as you could get with a lesbian wedding that is. The pink would match really well with the bright white gown.

Yui on the other hand was supposed to wear a white kimono, sticking with her traditional Japanese ways. She had a pink and white floral uchikake for the reception afterward, something her grandmother had worn at her own wedding, a garment Yui absolutely adored ever since she was a child. Now….she would get to marry the love of her life in it.

Laurie was her bridesmaid, being closer to the older woman than Nea’s two other friends. And they had both decided on a beige color for their nails, thinking it would look good with the white and the pink. Which, funny enough, were the colors for the decorations the two women had decided to be their main decor of the ceremony.

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As they walked inside the salon, there weren’t a lot of people there, maybe like….two others? Since it was still pretty early, but since they were getting both nails and feet done, they didn’t want to be there super late in the day when more people would start popping up. Common decency at its finest.

They were lead to sit down by a worker after picking out a polish from the walls, deciding to get acrylics for their hands with gel polish instead of normal polish, so it would stick on longer. And...quite a few of them had short nails, mostly because of their jobs. Yui was a mechanic since she always loved bikes and cars, things like that. Nea was a painter, but not a normal one. She got paid to do graffiti art on bridges and such, something to make the town more lively.

Meg was a semi-professional athlete. She wasn’t too well known, but she made a pretty good amount of money. Laurie was a childcare worker, working at a school and her nails broke easily around young children, she had come to learn that the hard way. And Claudette was a doctor, and she didn’t want to accidentally be poking people with her nails all too often through the gloves she wore. So needless to say, they didn’t get to have nice long nails like some girls a lot of the time and wanted to make sure they stayed on for the amount of time they could have them.

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They were sat down in the chairs to get their toes done first, one of the workers bringing over five glasses of champagne for them, one for each girl. And since they were all over twenty-one, they accepted it gratefully. Claudette wasn’t much of a drinker, but she would make an exception for this. It was a pretty special day after all, and she had taken off work for the next two days for the wedding.

Honestly, most of them had forgotten what it was like to just...be pampered like they were. It was honestly something they weren’t able to do often, being adults and such now with jobs to worry about. So it was relaxing while they just chatted, laughed, drank, and got their nails done. They did have a little incident where Meg almost kicked the nail stylist because the red-head was very much ticklish, but it didn’t seem to phase the person working on her. Only waving it off with a chuckle and saying it happens all the time.

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They were there probably around….three and a half hours? Mostly because despite the early time of day, a lot of people seemed to come in quickly, and the girls had to wait to get their hands done. But, nonetheless, it was worth the wait, and the five females were very happy with how everything turned out.

Though they didn’t condone drinking and driving, Claudette didn’t really like the champagne, and only ended up drinking two or so sips before she couldn’t do it anymore, finding the taste too strong without a chaser. And Nea was more than willing to finish it off for the smaller girl.

This also meant Claudette was now their driver for going off to lunch. So, they all piled into Laurie’s car, Laurie in the front with Claudette while the other three sat in the back, Nea and Yui sitting beside each other holding hands while Meg stared out the window, asking where they were going for the thousandth time since they left the salon. And the answer was the same each time. It was some little small-town restaurant that Claudette’s boyfriend, Quentin, owned. So not only would they get a discount, but he made pretty awesome food.

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It didn’t take long to get there, the place only slightly packed for the rush hour of lunchtime. And they quickly got out of the car, heading inside while chatting, obviously having to tease Claudette about coming to the place her boyfriend worked at.

As they walked inside, they spotted the curly-haired brunette behind the diner immediately. He had on his usual bright smile, his smile only growing bigger when he saw the five walk in, but it was definitely aimed towards Claudette.

“Hey, guys! Welcome in and have a seat wherever you want. I trust you guys to not take any unneeded space,” he said, more concentrated on the plates of food he was currently trying to carry. Quentin had changed a lot since high school. He wasn’t as shy as he used to be, and he had grown a lot taller almost six feet, and his hair had grown out a little longer. Needless to say, Claudette made a really good choice when she decided to start dating the nerdy kid.

The five took a seat at a booth, Meg, Laurie, and Claudette on one side with Nea and Yui on the other sitting beside each other. They chatted as they waited patiently for Quentin to come over to take their order, the boy handing off the plates of food to his co-worker, and ex-girlfriend Nancy. They had ended off on good terms, Quentin finding out he was into Claudette. And Nancy was totally fine with that, considering she and Quentin had been friends since childhood.

When he did come over, he let his customer service facade drop, his smile still there but seeming just a little less fake. He leaned down to press a quick kiss against Claudette’s cheek, causing the girl to giggle quietly and her friends to coo at her, “Alright….I’m guessing you all want the usual? Tea for you babe, water for Laurie, Sprite for Meg, iced tea for Yui, and a coke for Nea?” he asked, earning nods and smiles from the five girls. He wrote it down and walked off quickly, not before giving a quick congratulations to Yui and Nea. He hadn’t had much time to see them running his diner. One that his friend Steve had said he should open and most of his friends had pressured him into it. It was one of the best decisions of his life if he was entirely honest.

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They sat and chatted for an hour or so, eating the food that was paid for by Quentin, despite the objections of everyone at the table. But, the brunette was kind that way...even if he was a little more than annoyed when he saw the tip left for him by the five women. Since the day was over, Claudette was going to drive everyone home with Laurie’s car, and Quen would pick her up when he was done with work in a couple more hours.

Nea and Yui were the first to be dropped off since their house was the closest, the engaged couple giving hugs and promises of seeing them tomorrow bright and early to go to where their wedding ceremony was supposed to be held. And after the goodbye’s, waved as they watched their three friends drive off down the road.

Nea turned to her smaller fiance, a small smile on her face as she slipped her arms around the woman’s waist, pulling her closer and pressing a kiss against her forehead, “I ever tell you how much I love you?” she asked with a small tilt of her head, and Yui could only giggle at Nea’s antics.

“You say it all the time darling....but I guess there’s nothing wrong with hearing it again..” she told her as she leaned up, arms wrapping around her shoulders to kiss her properly, lips pressed firmly against Nea’s. If this is what she was getting for the rest of her life, well, then she got pretty damn lucky.

#nea karlsson #dbd ships #dbd #nea dbd #yui kimura #engaged #girls day #claudette morel #laurie strode #meg thomas #dead by daylight #writing #fanficton #oneshot

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hockeylvr59 · 4 years

Text

Positive || Kevin Hayes

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: So here’s another new piece (because I can’t seem to finish any of my existing series). Fair warning this one is a little rough emotionally, so you know...take a moment to prepare yourself and then let me know how much you want to kill me after.

Warnings: light smut, ANGST

Word Count: 3,502

~~~~~~

Sitting on an unfamiliar couch with tears streaming down your face was the last thing you wanted to be doing. The next five minutes were going to change your life forever, one way or another. Just the thought of that made it impossible to breathe, your chest tight as you buried your head between your knees. It was only the touch of a soft feminine hand that kept you even a little bit grounded, though that touch could only do much to console you as your world crashed and burned around you.

Thinking back, you wished you could change the events that had led up to this moment.

_____

You’d met Kevin through Jimmy Vesey and the two of you had become fast but casual friends. With you living in Boston while he played in New York and then Winnipeg and then finally Philly, you really didn’t see much of each other during the season. Phone calls were your most frequent form of communication and Kevin regularly called just to check-in or when he wanted to hear your voice after a bad game.

So when Kevin insisted that you join his family on vacation over the all-star break you were shocked. That seemed like a gesture that breached the ‘just friends’ relationship you had. You’d tried to insist that he should just enjoy his time with his family, but Kevin wouldn’t take no for an answer, threatening to fly to Boston to put your ass on a plane himself.

With your own commitments, you’d only been able to take a long weekend off and so you’d flown down to the tropics on Thursday evening, arriving sometime in the early morning hours Friday morning. As soon as you’d reached the front door to the beach house whose address Kevin had texted you, the door was pulled open and a pair of warm and strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you tightly to a muscular chest.

“Y/N! You made it!” Kevin greeted happily, his voice signaling that he had been sleeping until you’d texted him that you were in a cab on your way over. “I’m so glad you’re here.” He added.

“Hey, Kev…” You replied, a yawn slipping from your mouth as you spoke. It had been a fairly long flight but you hadn’t been able to sleep at all so now you were exhausted.

“Come on. I’ll show you to your room.” Kevin stated, clearly picking up on your fatigue. Walking up a set of stairs you were led into an empty bedroom, where Kevin placed the bag he’d taken from you onto the bed.

“Thanks, Kev…” You murmured, yawning once more. You watched him as Kevin draped one arm around you, pulling you into his side as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“You’re welcome.” He assured you. “We don’t have any plans tomorrow so feel free to sleep in.” He insisted, pulling away from you and running his fingers through his hair. “Sleep tight. We’ll talk tomorrow when you’re actually awake.” He teased, walking across the room where he pulled your door shut behind him.

With little to no energy left in your body, you’d simply stripped down to your underwear before crawling into bed, sleep overtaking you the moment your head hit the pillow.

***

Friday had passed by in a bit of a blur...mostly because you’d spent half your day in bed. Sleeping until your body awoke naturally, it was almost 1 in the afternoon when you glanced at the clock next to your bed. Immediately your bladder signaled its needs and your stomach growled for food, so you pulled yourself out of bed and quickly threw on a pair of shorts and a tank top before slipping out of your room in search of a bathroom and then food.

The moment you’d descended down the stairs, a flurry of activity reached your ears, as did Kevin’s booming voice. You’d just reached the bottom stair when a pair of arms wrapped around your waist and suddenly you were being swung around.

“She lives!” Kevin exclaimed and once he put you down you smacked him gently for scaring you.

“She needs food.” You informed him, only to have him nod and drag you to the kitchen where his mom and sister were making either a late lunch or working on the preparations for dinner. While introducing you to the women in the kitchen, Kevin poured you a bowl of cereal, placing it into your hands before disappearing.

He’d returned a moment later, his nephew in his arms and it was only then that he took a seat across from you at the small table and started chatting away, insisting on hearing about everything you’d been up to since you’d last talked.

The rest of the day was much the same, Kevin introducing you as one of his best friends to his entire family before pulling you from one thing to the other around the beach house. You’d gone swimming, played cornhole with the men, and helped his sister and sister-in-law clean up after a delicious dinner.

Though it had been a very low key day you’d learned one important thing: your attraction to Kevin grew tenfold watching him with his family.

***

Saturday morning had you up at a fairly normal time but when you’d gotten downstairs it was much quieter than it had been the previous day. You’d quickly learned from Kevin’s sister-in-law Kristen that the guys had gone to the golf course and had taken the kids with them and that Kevin had scheduled a spa day for all of the ladies, including you.

After eating a quick breakfast you’d gone to get dressed and ready to leave. It wasn’t until the group of you was in a car headed to the spa that Kevin’s sister had asked what was going on between the two of you. You’d protested, claiming that you and Kevin were just friends but it was clear that his family wasn’t buying it and honestly you couldn’t blame them. It had been one of the many reasons why you’d protested coming on this trip. This was a trip for Kevin and his family and the fact that he’d insisted you join them seemed to scream that he viewed you as more than just a friend. At the same time, as much as you wanted that to be true you knew that it wasn’t and never would be.

Eventually, Kevin’s family had dropped the inquiries about your relationship with him and instead just asked questions wanting to get to know you. It wasn’t long into your spa session before you were laughing with the ladies in Kevin’s life as you got manicures and pedicures. Your individual massage session left you feeling utterly relaxed and by the time you rejoined Kevin’s family after your facial, you were feeling completely spoiled.

It wasn’t until you were being dragged into another room and shoved into a chair to have your hair and makeup done that you realized the true spoiling was only just beginning.

Kevin was taking you out to dinner tonight.

He’d told his family that it was just because he hadn’t had the chance to spend time with you just the two of you but just like this vacation as a whole, it was starting to feel like his explanations were merely thinly veiled excuses. And while you weren’t sure how you felt about all of this, you weren’t about to turn down some time alone with Kevin as it had been months since you’d had any with him in person and not over the phone.

Arriving back at the house with your hair and makeup done professionally, you felt more beautiful than you could ever remember. Kevin had texted you that he’d be back at the house to get you in half an hour and so you rushed up to your room to change into the gorgeous sundress you’d brought with you. You’d brought it with you figuring that it could serve as a cover-up if nothing else, but now it was the only thing that was even semi-appropriate to wear out to dinner. Settling the fabric over your hips, you gazed at yourself in the mirror, smiling at the woman staring back at you. It wasn’t often that you got dressed up to go somewhere and it was a nice feeling. While you knew that you really didn’t have anyone to impress, you were hoping that you’d get a reaction out of Kevin nonetheless.

You’d just finished hyping yourself up for dinner when you heard Kevin’s booming voice calling your name. Slipping your feet back into your sandals, you started down the stairs, finding Kevin waiting for you in the entryway.

“How was golf?” You asked him, missing the look of awe on his face as he took in your appearance.

“Golf was good.” He responded, his hand drifting to your lower back. “You ready?” He asked and when you nodded, he guided you out to the rental car, helping you inside before slipping around to the driver's seat. “How was the spa? Hopefully, my family didn’t give you too much trouble?” He asked, glancing over at you while at a red light.

“It was incredible. Thank you, Kev. I feel beyond spoiled. And your family was great. I had a lot of fun.” You assured him, relaxing back into the seat of the car.

“Good.” Kevin mused. “Though you don’t have to thank me. You deserve it.” He’d added in a whisper and for a pause, it felt like you couldn’t breathe.

The restaurant Kevin had taken you to was gorgeous and the food was absolutely amazing. You had really missed spending time with Kevin like this and you enjoyed catching up with him. Hours had passed without you even realizing it and sadly before you knew it, it was time to return back to the house.

Arriving at the beach house, you were taken aback when you walked into the middle of an intense board game session, one which Kristen dragged you into declaring that they needed more players. It wasn’t until the early morning hours that every one trickled off to bed, a little tipsy, having spent hours laughing and carrying on.

Sliding between the sheets you thought about today’s lesson: you felt like you belonged while with Kevin’s family and maybe “just friends” was more blurred than you had thought.

***

Sunday was your last full day of vacation, your flight home scheduled for lunchtime Monday. You’d been woken up by a large body bouncing onto your bed and you groaned, shoving Kevin in the chest, still half asleep.

“C’mon Y/N...we’re spending the day on the beach.” He insisted, once again not taking no for an answer.

“Fine. Leave so I can get up and get dressed.” You murmured, having slept half nude the night before which was something you didn’t need Kevin to see.

“You have five minutes.” Kevin declared and though he didn’t say what would happen if you took longer, it was certainly implied that Kevin would drag you out of this room in whatever state of dress.

Laying in bed for another minute, you finally pulled yourself up and rummaged through your bag for your swimsuit. Sliding it on you then threw on shorts and a t-shirt before throwing your hair up in a messy bun. After grabbing sunscreen and your phone you slipped your shoes on and made your way downstairs to find Kevin goofing off with his niece who was bouncing around excited to head down to the ocean.

Your day was spent in the sun and sand and waves, as you switched between working on your tan, playing with Kevin’s niece and letting Kevin drag you into the ocean. You’d stayed on the beach until the sun had begun to set. Returning to the house, the men worked on grilling up dinner while the rest of you settled into chairs surrounding a fire pit.

After enjoying dinner and changing into some actual clothes instead of a damp suit, you’d settled back into the chair, glasses of wine and bottles of beer floating around never to be emptied without being replaced. With the moon high in the sky, you enjoyed the evening with Kevin’s family, his nephew eventually being settled onto your chest, the little boy cooing as he snuggled into you.

Within ten minutes of being handed the baby, Kevin had come over and taken him from you, handing him back to his brother. Raising an eyebrow at him, you watched as he reached a hand out to you, pulling you from your seat.

“Come take a walk with me.” His words signaled that it was more of a demand than a request and though you were confused, you nodded, slipping off your sandals as you reached the beach to walk barefoot along it with him, nothing but the moonlight guiding your way.

“Kev...what’s going on?” You eventually asked him, the silence between you becoming overwhelming. Kevin didn’t stop until you had tugged on his arm, forcing him to look at you. When he did it was with eyes that were stormy and your heart picked up speed at the sight of them.

“Kev…” You repeated. “Is everything okay? Did I do something wrong?” Kevin had never acted like this before and it was something that concerned you.

“I want to have a baby with you.” Kevin eventually spoke and your jaw dropped as you froze, just staring at him.

Eventually you found your voice again and were able to stutter out, “You what?”

“I want you to have my baby,” Kevin repeated. “You’re my best friend. My family loves you. And seeing you holding Beau. Fuck Y/N I need that.”

“Kev…” You breathed, unable to form any words other than his name with the way your head was suddenly spinning. Staring at him for a moment longer as he just stared back made it hard to breathe and after a moment you turned. “We should head back.” You said softly.

Kevin didn’t protest, instead linking his large fingers with yours as you walked, only dropping them just before reaching the eyesight of his family. Settling back into your chair you forced a smile onto your face and joined the ongoing conversation, accepting the fresh glass of wine you were offered.

Not long after, the kids were taken up to bed and the rest of the house slowly moved to follow them. Still, Kevin didn’t move from his spot and neither did you until the two of you were the only ones left out by the dying fire. Watching the flickering flames cast shadows on his face, the only thought that would come to mind was how handsome he was.

And you weren’t sure whether it was the fire, the wine, the earlier baby snuggles and playtime with Kevin’s niece, or the feelings for Kevin that you’d been suppressing for so long but something pushed you to your feet and over to stand in front of Kevin and it was only once he was looking up at you that you nodded.

“Okay.”

Without a word, Kevin nodded back, reaching up to take your hand before guiding you inside and up to his bedroom which was settled the farthest away from the bedrooms where the rest of his family was staying. It wasn’t until the door was closed behind the two of you and the lock flipped into place that Kevin pulled you close, his lips dropping down to yours as his hands wrapped themselves around your waist.

Everything after that felt like it happened in slow motion. Kevin’s hands were so gentle as he stripped you out of your clothing before lifting and gently laying you back on his bed. His accent was heavy as he slowly murmured about how much this meant to him, how beautiful you were, and how he couldn’t wait to see your body swell with his child. His touch and his kisses were slow and lingered, working your body close to the edge of orgasm not once but twice before finally making you fall apart. It was only then that Kevin pressed inside of you, his mouth silencing your screams as you cried out for him. The sound of your bodies rocking against each other was the only thing filling your ear until Kevin hissed and grunted and suddenly you were filled with a warmth as he spilled inside of you.

Sleep followed not long after but it wasn’t until you stirred early the next morning that you realized your next lesson of this trip: that you had made a massive mistake.

***

Tears formed in your eyes as you slid from Kevin’s arms and worked on silently gathering your clothes. After stopping to use the bathroom, you slid back into your room closing the door behind you. It was only then that you really started to cry as you worked to throw on proper clothes before packing your bag up to head home.

It wasn’t like you were going to leave before talking to Kevin, but...knowing that said conversation was likely going to turn into a fight, well, you wanted to be able to make a quick escape if need be.

Your stomach twisted as you made your way downstairs, and you forced a smile onto your face as you sat down to eat the eggs that Kevin’s mom was making. Hearing Kevin’s footsteps on the stairs, you got up to intercept him, pulling him outside.

“We need to talk.” You murmured, watching as Kevin eyed you anxiously.

“Okay.” He conceded, sitting down on the front porch step of the beach house.

“Last night was a mistake.” You started and immediately Kevin opened his mouth to protest, an action which you stopped with a shake of your head. “Kevin I’m sorry but it was. I can’t have a baby with you.” You whispered, afraid that someone would overhear you. “I was overwhelmed by the mood of vacation, the moon, the fire, the alcohol, you...but none of that is real Kev. What’s real is that I’m going back to Boston today and you’re going back to Philly and this…” You gestured between the two of you. “This won’t work. And it certainly wouldn’t be fair to even think about bringing a baby into.” It hurt you to see Kevin’s shoulders slump, but this was something that had to be said.

“Y/N please...we could make it work.” Kevin murmured and you shook your head, tears prickling in your eyes.

“No. No, we couldn’t.” You insisted, moving to head back inside. “I’m sorry Kev...but I’m gonna grab my bag and go to the airport. Thank you for everything.” As you started to walk past him, Kevin reached out catching just the tips of your fingers.

“Why?” The word slipped from his mouth without further context and you tugged your hand away from him, brushing the tears from your face.

“Because you don’t love me the way that I love you.”

Once back in the house, you grabbed your things before stopping to say a quick goodbye to the rest of Kevin’s family, making an excuse as to why you needed to leave for the airport early. You had a feeling they knew that something was up, but no one said anything and you thankfully didn’t see Kevin again before climbing into a cab. Your heart ached because last night had been so perfect. The problem was that it wasn’t real and you needed something that could be real. Sadly perfect….perfect wasn’t real.

_____

The steady tic tic tic of the kitchen timer finally sounded, causing you to jump. A glance over at Kristen revealed a concerned but supportive look as she nodded at you. You hadn’t known where else to turn, but you couldn’t do this on your own. You weren’t sure if she knew the details of what had happened or not, but the moment you had messaged her asking for her help she was quick to assure you that you had it. It had been six weeks since you got on a plane and left Kevin behind. Six weeks without a peep from him and you knew it was your fault. All of this was your fault.

“It’s time to look Y/N.” She whispered. “Take a few deep breaths.” She added, her hand rubbing over your back as you tried to get the courage to flip over the tiny plastic sticks. “Here. Hold my hand.” She insisted. With her strength flowing through your joined hands you took one final breath before reaching over to the coffee table and turning each of the three sticks in turn.

‘Pregnant.’

‘+ ‘

And two pink lines.

It had been one night. One mistake. And now you couldn’t deny it any longer.

You were having Kevin Hayes’s baby.

#kevin hayes #kevin hayes imagine #philadelphia flyers #philadelphia flyers imagine #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #kevin hayes nws #nws #lemon #027 #pflyers

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