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andthebubbles · 11 days

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anthony being so pathetic and/or dramatic in baby you're a haunted house by spit-kitten (simon/anthony):

ch 1:

White’s. Wednesday. Well into the evening. Anthony had been staring blankly at the lively jostle of the club for what could have been hours, only breaking off occasionally to stare into his glass of beer instead and wonder whether, if he only tried hard enough, he might drown himself in it. He could not decide whether he was happy to be drawn forth, blinking, from the clinging depths of his melancholy or fiercely resentful of the intrusion, of the rude reminder of his name - right when he had been so tenaciously endeavouring to forget that Anthony Bridgerton existed.

He returned to his beer, killed the glass before it could kill him, then made a motion to summon another: perhaps this one would have better luck and finish him off. Perhaps he would have better luck, and be finished off.

But Simon - usually quite content to cede the floor - seemed resolutely, heartily unwilling to listen. 'Oh, come. Are you not always telling me about your surplus of brothers? Let Benedict manage the estate for a couple of weeks; he wants the practise if you intend to begin throwing yourself into duels at the first sign of trouble - yes, you ass, your sister told me of your frankly disconcerting eagerness to go and get yourself shot by Nigel Berbrooke.'

It was settled, happening, before Anthony even truly had a moment to think on it - and then he did not have a moment to think on anything but it for the next two days. He was so busy filling his traveling trunk and making ready to leave the estate in Benedict's somewhat diffident hands that he barely found ten minutes at a time to stare disconsolately out of windows and sigh.

In fact, upon sober reflection, he was beginning to suspect that this was why Simon had made the invitation at all - that he was trying to give Anthony some privacy in which to lick his wounds before he launched back into the fray - and he was pitifully grateful for his friend's underhanded kindness. Simon was the only person with any solid idea of what had passed on that cursed final night of the season, had been determined to have it out of Anthony: he knew why he had been made to suffer through Daphne's triumphant first ball as a princess quite alone, performing heartache for the benefit of the ton while Anthony blankly nursed the real thing at home.

'I bow to your judgement entirely on the matter,' he had said instead, with as natural a smile as he could manage, and had withdrawn to find somewhere quiet where he could stare at a wall for a while and think of as little as possible, leaving her to her machinations.

Though the extremity of his brother's emotion was touching, his little grip bordered on choking and Anthony's patience had its limits - but before he was compelled either to cause upset by resorting to force or to submit to kneeling on the driveway until he collapsed in a faint, he found that he had been released from his brother's fond embraces; or that somebody had released him, by the simple action of hoisting Gregory into the air and bearing him away, and he was so relieved to be at liberty again that it was only once he was standing and brushing away the gravel embedded in his knee that he realised it was Simon who had set him free.

(not sure about this one, but yolo self-loathing (and there was plenty more before this too (like at the end of lots of paragraphs lol))

A final fond embrace for his mother and a clasp of Benedict's arm and they were off, Grosvenor Square and assembled Bridgertons receding into the distance behind them. And Anthony was sensible of an unworthy wave of relief rushing through him, stronger and more whole-hearted than he had ever felt upon quitting his family before. God, he was a wretch.

ch 2:

'Now you are sounding like that housemaster in the third form who wouldn't let us leave class until we'd correctly reeled off our declensions,' he replied. His voice sounded husky in the still air of the hall. ‘Do warn me if the likeness extends any further and you begin to be seized by the urge to hurl chalk at my head.'

Simon laughed and released him. 'Happier days,' he said, wryly, and took a drink from the bottle that he had cleverly thought to bring with him. Truly, Simon was a genius about such things. 'Warnings never used to do you much good back then: I suppose you thought it dishonourable to duck. It is a wonder you never lost an eye.’

'Rather risk an eye than learn my declensions,' Anthony said to win an indulgent laugh, and was gratified. 'I have a spare, after all.'

He began to regret drinking quite so much: he was acutely aware, suddenly, of the quickening of his blood and the slowing of his wits – of a dull, thudding certainty that no matter how he tried, he would be unable to keep any mask of propriety from slipping and exposing the poor player underneath. Just Anthony, flushed and erring. Failing to measure up, again.

Well. It had been a couple of days since he’d indulged in that sort of self-flagellation, too caught up in Simon’s affairs and buoyed up by his company. Another strike against the demon drink.

To discover that what Anthony considered the warmest of friendships had been on one side nothing more than tolerance! It had felt as though he been allowed to live the last decade and more in a state of wretched delusion, and everybody had known it but himself. As though he had been flayed open the whole time and never noticed.

teehee why is he like this (a lil masochist skjfngk):

And it was marvellous to be here exchanging amiable blows once more - to feel Simon's fist against his ribs and to welcome it, simply, wholeheartedly.

slightly off topic, but:

God, it was unfair, the way he could do that. Despite Simon’s slight – slight – height advantage, they must be nearly evenly matched, and yet Simon was the one person Anthony knew who could handle him like that, like he weighed nothing. Or he was the one person who had got close enough to try - he thought of people he knew vaguely through Simon, his fellow boxing enthusiasts: Mondrich could probably break Anthony's back over his knee if he was ever given enough cause. Simon was the one person he'd ever allowed to try, ever goaded into trying.

mm, thank you for the thought anthony :3

He recalled one particular hazy evening, where he had sat on somebody's floor, his back against a wall, barely conscious of anything but for a voice saying, in amused exasperation, ‘Hell’s teeth, you are fathoms deep. Where the devil – Has anybody seen Basset? Oh, there you are. Thank God. Take him home, would you?' The whole room, his whole body liquid, everything unsteady and strange except the sound of Simon's warm laugh close by his ear and the grip of Simon's warm hand against his shoulder. Simon complaining all the way to his door, but still catching Anthony every time he stumbled; Anthony saying nothing that made much sense, just watching the lamplight bounce off the wet cobbles, off Simon's brilliant smile. Being so openly grateful that when the next morning came, he woke up blushing.

what a simp

ch 3:

'I wonder if you would be willing to do me a great favour today, Bridgerton,' Simon said. He was leaning against the duke’s great desk, hands flat against its top, in the position of a general surveying a battle-plan, except that his head was bowed, looking at the expanse of polished wood between his hands.

'Certainly,' Anthony said, eager to have the opportunity to please him. 'Name it.'

settle down, anthony

He was here to help Simon, to lend practical assistance and to keep him company in an unpleasant spot; he was failing on both counts. He must endeavour to be more helpful, to be a better friend – he badly wanted to, was beginning to feel that he would do anything, would give everything to have Simon smiling at him again – but he simply was not sure how to proceed.

He must talk to Simon; he must make Simon talk to him. He should be dragging him out of that study and making him take care of himself, and of his household - not letting him work himself into a nervous collapse in the hopes of avoiding a quarrel. It was absurd. Whatever had passed, whatever barrier was between them would simply have to be overcome; he would dash himself against it, if needs be. First he must stop hiding and go to him - and there was no time like the present.

Despite all this bold resolution, he still found his steps slowing as he approached the Duke's study. He had been miserable in his isolation this last week, but had grown almost accustomed to that misery, to the perversely comforting thought that there was, at least, nothing to be done but to make himself scarce. Now that he had determined to face Simon, he found he was as nervy as a debutante on the ballroom steps – desperate to charm, to be agreeable, to be liked.

Daphne had been right, back in London: he had never had to be careful in that way, had never been trained for it the way she had. He was far more likely to provoke a row.

He did not want a row; he wanted, very badly, to see Simon pleased to see him. He paused on the threshold of the study for a second, trying to shake his discomposure.

Anthony was pathetically happy to find his friend in a jesting mood.

pathetically happy 🫠

not the most dramatic of him esp when compared to later but:

No sooner was he suspected, than he was accused; no sooner accused, than condemned. It was irrefutable. He had been the most complete fool – blind, utterly blind to his own mind, his own heart! And now he well deserved to have the long-delayed realisation come and catch him in the ribs, to have it dash him to pieces like a stage-coach to the back. He deserved to be sitting here, shattering.

ch 4:

Finally judging that they had both suffered enough of this, he tendered his excuses and made to flee. Simon, still frowning at him curiously, insisted on accompanying him up the stairs, so at least Anthony had inadvertently succeeded in dragging his friend from his work and luring him away to bed – no, stop. He tried the thought again more carefully: at least he had secured an early night for his host. Christ.

Simon's uneasiness had evidently not abated by the time they reached the junction where they would usually part ways. For an unhinged second, it seemed as though Anthony was about to be chaperoned right to his chamber door, a kind and attentive gesture that would have unfortunately given him no other choice but to drop dead on the spot. But Simon avoided the embarrassment of sending a houseguest into an apoplectic fit by simply pressing the lantern into Anthony's hand and resolving to make his own way by the dim moonlight filtering in through the windows.

not so pathetic-dramatic but he's cute, so :3

He loved Simon. Having so carefully avoided thinking this one thing for years on end, he now found that he could think of very little else. He loved Simon, and here was his bedroom door. The room was very cold, and he loved Simon. He was an ass; he had long been an ass; oh, and he loved Simon.

That evening in the stables, not a week ago! When he had been so blithely content to compare grappling with Simon to wrestling with Benedict! Remarkable, quite remarkable, was it not, that tussling with his brother had never left him in a state of similar excitement. Of all the self-deceiving fools! He was going to burst into flames, and scorch Simon's hideous counterpane.

What possible good could come of this realisation? What possible good could have come of it five, ten – God, fifteen – years ago? Though Anthony was hardly an innocent, Simon had long been even more worldly than him. Anthony was not up to a protracted interrogation of his addled views on Simon's rakishness over the years, on everything he had witnessed and everything he had imagined: he simply could not take it. But he could acknowledge that if his friend had wished for something more than friendship to pass between them, then surely it would have. Simon was not shy about such things, and Anthony had apparently been there for the asking for years, even if he had not known it.

not really anything but idk why that bolded part makes me skfjgnfkjgnfkjg; like, what does Anthony want, to just be jumped at some point in the last fifteen years? skjfnkfjgnkj he's sooooooo skfjnfg halp

ch 5:

Anthony was in the saddle and half a mile from the house before the next coherent thought made its way through the savage blare of misery in his mind. Where was he going? Fortunately, it was a question with a ready answer: anywhere but here. The village – the tavern, to get as drunk as he could – and then, with any luck, to fall in a ditch and lie there for a bit, possibly forever.

ch 6:

Simon had looked away, and at this he shook his head, but there was a tight smile on his face. His eyes were very bright. 'Your affection for that horse blinds you to his flaws,' he said to his own hands. 'You would be the first to criticise it in another – or even to reprimand him for it yourself – but if any other person should dare to find fault! He could have stamped upon your head in his hurry and you would tell me that he has an admirably strong foot.'

'I doubt that I should tell anybody much ever again, if he had done that.' Not that the poor animal would have known any better in that case, either; it was Anthony's own responsibility to keep his horse from stamping on his head, and if he failed to do so then he would have to suffer the consequences.

this is not super pathetic but it's cute :3

It all faded into obscurity at the sight of Simon before him now, vivid and animated. He had drawn back to sit again and was fixing Anthony with an arch look, his eyebrow in that familiar quirk, saying something that had his whole being shining with self-amusement.

Anthony very badly wanted to kiss him.

Ah. No. He forced himself to start paying attention to Simon's words rather than simply watching his lips move.

okay this is not really pathetic-pathetic but... i liked it...

Simon shook his head, and came over, taking a seat on the blanket and reaching for the troublesome garment. 'Oh, naturally, you are in the duchy for all of fifteen minutes and already abreast of every whisper of gossip.' He paused: Anthony, who was suffering an attack of self-consciousness upon realising that he had again contrived to appear close in front of his friend in a state of undress, stared at the white linen between Simon’s fingers, valiantly resisting the impulse to snatch it back and wrestle the thing on himself, bruising be damned. 'Which reminds me, Mr Bridgerton, – ' oh, Hell; Anthony looked up sharply from Simon's hands to his face, to find him looking very amused indeed, eyes flashing with mischief ‘– exactly how long have you been in the duke's employment? I am mortified to discover that I owe you at least a month's wages.'

'Oh, God, Hastings.' There was no fighting a flush now, but Anthony attempted to answer with as much dignity as possible. 'That was a simple misunderstanding. I wished to spare our hostess's blushes over a blunder and — things ran out of hand.'

'They certainly did.' Simon's voice was a purr – like that of a tiger who had just stumbled upon a meal fit to keep him fed for a damnably long time. 'Mrs Poole is quite furious with you. And I was so distracted by your more recent lunacy that the pair of us had been quite merrily carrying on at crossed purposes for some twenty minutes before she said how good it was of me to be so anxious for my steward. Imagine the confusion when I revealed that you were nothing more than an old and meddlesome friend! Our host, meanwhile, claims to have always thought you rather too green and bonny for a hired man – which I believe he intended as a compliment, before you reach for your pistol.'

Glowering had very little effect against this tide of jocularity, but Anthony was gratified to find that he could stay Simon's speech by the simple expedient of looking like he was about to lose patience and fight him for his own shirt.

'No, stop, stay still: here.' Simon leaned in and helped him get the wretched thing on, hands hot and shockingly gentle against his wrists, his sides. 'God, you'd be the worst kind of steward,' he was saying, from somewhere on the other side of the linen, voice still full of laughter. 'You are so fucking disobedient.’

Anthony was going to burst into flames; he really, truly was, because his shirt was on and yet Simon was not releasing him, was pausing with the front still lifted and frowning down at the smudged red marks that littered Anthony's aching side, the flushed signs of tenderness beneath his skin, looking as though he might be about to reach out and touch them, and if he did — But finally Simon let the fabric fall and looked up.

disobedient skjfnkjngkng

So they were to hash through it all again. Anthony had hoped that throwing himself headlong into a ditch might at least have had the advantage of avoiding any further argument.

Though even now, he could not see how it might have been done better. Perhaps if he had applied to Daphne instead? She understood Simon's temperament and would certainly have grasped the need for discretion. Perhaps he should hand the whole affair into her capable hands. It was becoming clear that he had little natural talent for match-making; better by far to play to his strengths and let whatever sickness was skulking around Cliveden wear itself out throwing him around. He could take it.

Christ, he must be thought utterly pathetic. But he was beginning to feel that he might be able to take that too, if the alternative was Simon abandoned and undefended, being slowly worn down to nothing by that spiteful, angry mass.

blorbo being pathetic 🫠:

It was astonishing how swiftly, how neatly facts could be made to fall into place: Simon's violent changes of mood over the last month, his mix of sulkiness and high humour, his burning desire to push Anthony out of the door – typical Bridgerton conceit to think that it must all depend upon his own behaviour, his own failings! The scheme with Daphne: it now became quite clear what Simon had gained from that – the freedom to pursue his own ends without scrutiny. And Anthony too wrapped up in his own little melodramas to take notice. Simon's anger that morning, at being advertised as available again. The bitterness in his voice. Just because you desire something, it does not mean that you will have it. Well! Simon in love, after all.

Anthony gazed blankly up at the ceiling. This was the best possible news.

He repeated it to himself inwardly a couple of times, trying to grind it into instinct by force, until it began to take on the worn and sacred tones of a learned response in church – Make clean our hearts within us: And take not thy spirit from us. The same empty, pleading toll. Simon in love: the best possible news.

sad blorbo D:

Perhaps, he thought, a little deliriously, perhaps he was subject to some grotesque twist of fate, the influence of some cracked star at his birth – perhaps everybody he cared for would have perfect happiness, as long as he remained miserable. Well – he pictured again the luminous look in Simon's eyes, an exchange of rings, Cliveden full of noise and laughter – if that was the case, it was worth it: it had to be worth it.

It soon transpired that Simon had not been entirely joking. Mrs Poole was a little furious with Anthony.

Fortunately, he was in exactly the position most calculated to endear him to her again: he desperately wanted to be talked at. Anything to keep him from the only other avenues of entertainment left open to him - running through the list of every woman that Simon had ever, could have ever met in an attempt to identify the future Duchess, and then, when that grew wearisome, presumably going mad.

Perhaps it was fortunate that he had stayed senseless until he was safely in bed, after all. He imagined himself waking up in the cart, tenderly cradled in Simon's arms so that he should not be jolted, looking up into his rescuer's anxious face and leaping drowsily to entirely the wrong conclusion. Then he made a concerted, deliberate effort to stop imagining it. Good Lord.

'It is still so strange to see the duke,' she said in a furtive tone on the second morning of Anthony's convalescence, pausing in her bustle around the room at the very instant that Simon – off on some errand downstairs – had quit it, her eyes fixed on the door in some astonishment. 'He is not at all what I imagined.'

Anthony had also been gazing wistfully after the duke as he departed, but likely for slightly different reasons. Mrs Poole was a married woman, after all.

There was the bright side of the whole misadventure: it had bought cordiality between Simon and his people, had begun to reconcile him with his home soil. Though of course this had been bound to happen eventually, once they had come to know him: impossible for it not to. Anthony had simply sped things along by falling on his head.

The question of his departure from Sussex had not been raised since their last quarrel, presumably because Simon was in too good a temper to court a fight. But if he had raised it, Anthony would have assented – and waited until he was safely ensconced in the carriage to begin wallowing in his misery. He could not protest any longer, not in good conscience. He was practically useless. Simon would soon have somebody else to take care of him: Simon was in love and certain to be happy, and Anthony — Anthony was happy for him, naturally.

All that remained was for him to get well enough to get out of the way, as quickly as possible.

Simon simply smiled at him, and Anthony received the distinct impression that now he might be the one being indulged. 'Have your fun. They were half-convinced that I was the devil himself: surely I may be permitted an unworthy suspicion or two.' He paused and looked a little abashed. It was a very becoming expression, actually, and Anthony was still so busy being bowled over by gratitude that he forgot to throw himself down the stairs for thinking so. 'I cannot quite account for why I continued to hang on to it after that. Presumably I was loath to give up the inflated sense of importance one derives from borrowing the articles of better men.'

ch 7:

‘Oh, call off your dogs,’ Anthony said, indulgently, amused by this characteristic display of distemper. ‘It hangs there still – to keep the young ladies of London from forming tragic attachments to a painted face, no doubt.' And he was satisfied to hear not a single hint of wistfulness in his words. See, things were as they had always been: already it was easy to talk like this, quite naturally, quite amiably. It barely felt like he was being run through at all. 'Like poor Matilda in Otranto, pining after a portrait.'

He had stayed there staring at Simon’s painted face for twenty minutes at the least, that first time. He supposed that Lady Danbury might have walked in at any moment, caught him trespassing, and reduced him to ash with a single disapproving look; he had been so pleasantly surprised to discover the portrait – to find anything that might ease the raw ache of Simon’s absence – that the danger had never truly occurred to him – not then, and not on any of the other occasions that he had ducked into the cool, quiet room and sought the painting out.

‘It helped me to feel as though you were suffering through it all with me,’ he said now, ‘although you would have detested every second far more than I ever did, I am sure. And –‘ he deliberately lightened his tone, giving Simon a generous elbow to the side ' – it was certainly a better conversationalist than you have ever been: in all the time we spent together over the years, I do not recall it insulting me once.'

Simon did not laugh. He stopped; Anthony turned back in concern to see whether the jab could possibly have actually hurt him, but he did not look hurt, exactly – only open, and oddly stricken. Perhaps he was reflecting that soon they would be apart again, and even regretting it a little – a self-flattering notion, but one that Anthony was too weak to reject outright.

'I was in Greece, Bridgerton,' he was saying, and his words had the remote ring of astonishment, 'not dead.'

This did not seem to Anthony to be the most intelligent statement.

'Yes,' he said, slowly, 'but I missed you all the same.' Then he flushed, suddenly fearing that he might have lapsed into over-familiarity again, and hurried them on their way to breakfast.

He was clearly setting his house in order for somebody's approval: he was suddenly anxious to have Anthony's opinion on everything, anxious to have him involved with the estate again, presumably trying to get as much cleared up as possible before this person's arrival. Anthony was always happy to offer an opinion, and the employment was welcome; it kept him from thinking too much about — about anything else. In truth, he could sense a certain quality of stagnation to much of the work Simon been attempting without him, a certain reluctance to challenge the status quo - the influence, no doubt, of the quelling weight that had lingered in that dark study, behind that heavy desk. Every year bends towards the one before, he remembered Mrs Colson saying. Well, not anymore – not if he had any say in the matter. He had a responsibility, not only to Simon, but to the tenants he had met over the past few weeks, to do what was practically possible to drag the place firmly into the present – or to do as much as he was able before he was hurried out of the door.

'Hastings! This is wonderful, the best of news! I knew you should come round to my way of thinking.’ And if his great happiness for his friend was on the verge of being drowned out by a rising tide of horror and self-pity, if he was speaking through a choking pain in his throat, it was only because he was the most wretched, self-absorbed creature in the world. This was the last of it; if he could just preserve an appearance of natural good cheer for a few minutes more, if he could just keep forcing out the words he ought to say – 'Is there a lady already in mind? You dog! You have been keeping a secret passion from me all this time!'

He had been kissed enough times before; he had imagined this particular kiss enough times, so hazily at first – just images brushed against his mind and blinked away during slow moments in the classroom, at the club – and then with a growing, guilty intensity, so insistent at last over the past few days that it had almost hurt to think of it, hurt as much to think of anything else. But for all that, he had never come close to conjuring up the weight, the relentlessness of Simon's mouth, so hot against his, nor the dizzying, elating effect it would have on him – like he was suffocating, and was exceedingly pleased to be doing so. He had never captured the restless motion of Simon’s hands, assured and everywhere at once; he had never even considered the ticklish scratch of Simon’s unshaven cheek – the way it kept making him gasp against Simon’s lips, kept startling him into opening up and letting Simon in.

A low laugh, little more than a puff of warm air against his throat. 'Was that all. Christ, I nearly drove myself mad with the thought of you back in London - wickedly jealous of whoever you might be letting kiss you, touch you, even make you laugh.' Then Simon raised his head and gave him a heated, knowing look. He was inches above Anthony, their mouths tantalisingly close; his voice was fond, amused - hungry. 'But yes, wretch, I know exactly what you are asking. On better nights, I also thought of you - alone in your immense bed, your hand around your flushed and aching cock -' Anthony heard the humiliating sound of his own breath hitching '- desperate for it, desperate for something more. I thought that I should have taken you away with me, that I could have shown you all that you were wanting.'

#i'll do ch 5 later #or i might add it to this post #i didn't go all the way to the end of ch 7 bc i assumed there was nothing after the love confession but i may be wrong #anyway!#s/a #fic recs #quote #i can always edit the post #this fic has become a comfort fic

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jcmarchi · 4 months

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Spoiling The Game Awards Winners Of 2025

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/spoiling-the-game-awards-winners-of-2025/

Spoiling The Game Awards Winners Of 2025

Happy New Year! Now that 2024 is here, it’s time to push it the hell out of the way and look ahead to 2025. At least, that’s what it feels like the game industry is increasingly saying I should do. A number of recently revealed titles have been slapped with 2025 release windows, so I can’t help but wonder how next year will shape up and, most importantly, what the awards seasons will look like.

There are still hundreds of games yet to fill the 2025 release calendar, but let’s pretend they won’t exist. Let’s say 95% of the game industry collectively decided to take a year off. Making games is obscenely hard, and to avoid crunch, everyone decided to take some well-deserved (and well-compensated) R&R, so these seven titles are the only ones to launch in 2025. What’s Game Awards host Geoff Keighley to do come December? Continue the show anyway; those trophies aren’t going to award themselves.

To save yourself three hours of cringy celebrity presenters and Genshin Impact commercials, I’ve taken the liberty of spoiling the event here. Be sure to check back next December to see how right I am.

Monster Hunter Wilds – Game Awards: Best Role-Playing Game

Capcom’s tentpole games tend to do well for themselves during awards season, and people love huntin’ monsters. Wilds’ spiritual predecessor, Monster Hunter: World, nabbed Best RPG at the 2018 TGAs. Unless Bethesda hits The Elder Scrolls VI’s music, and it makes a surprise run-in to clean house like Stone Cold Steve Austin, let’s just tape the same award under Capcom’s seat before they arrive.

Big Walk – Game Award: Games for Impact

Developer House House’s follow-up to Untitled Goose Game makes my soul smile. It will likely do the same to everyone who plays it, and if someone has the foresight to get it into the hands of politicians, 2025 will be the year humanity achieves world peace. I think that qualifies it for the Games for Impact award. Big Walk likely has a deeper message hidden amongst its delightful nonsense; as a co-op game, it’s probably the power of friendship or something.

Pony Island 2: Panda Circus – Game Award: Best Content Creator

I have no idea what to make of Pony Island 2, and I’ve played all of Daniel Mullens’ games. No matter how incomprehensible his work may seem, there’s no denying that he creates fascinating content; sounds like he’s a shoo-in for Best Content Creator! At least pre-show host Sydnee Goodman can finally read a creator’s name that doesn’t make her sound like she’s speaking in tongues.

Usual June – Game Award: Best Independent Game

Usual June is a neat-looking indie game from a quality developer in Finji, but they will not be making an acceptance speech. At the end of the day, it’s an indie game. Unless Hideo Kojima falls into an open manhole on the way to the Peacock Theater, Geoff simply will not have the time to let Finji bask in the glow of a Game Award victory. Plus, he’s gotta make room for whichever Muppet hasn’t appeared on the show yet. Expect a deluge of angry opinion articles about how Geoff disrespected Finji so that he could play an awkward game of live charades with Scooter.

Mouse – Game Awards: Best Art Direction, Best Shooter

We all laughed when Activision said Call of Duy was taking a two-year break after Modern Warfare III to reinvigorate itself (let me dream, damn it), but the joke’s on us two years later. COD’s absence leaves Mouse as 2025’s break-out shooter. A good awards show needs a bit of controversy, though, so someone will inevitably point out that the game is inspired by a problematic period of animation, making it the spiciest winner of the event.

Crimson Desert – Game Award: Snubbed!

Oh snap, Crimson Desert might be coming out in 2025 now? But we already gave the Best RPG trophy to Monster Hunter. Well, this is awkward. Crimson Desert also looks pretty ambitious, but Grand Theft Auto VI has filled the “super mega game” quota. Since Pearl Abyss’ promising RPG epic joined the ‘25 party so late, and because one of the biggest stories of any awards show is how a deserving nominee won diddly squat, let’s say Crimson Desert does its best Marvel’s Spider-Man impression and enjoys a night of consistent disappointment.

Grand Theft Auto VI – Game Awards: Yes

Let’s be real; we all know GTA VI will be collecting Game Awards trophies like Thanos collecting Infinity Stones. That’s because the hotly anticipated game will not only live up to every sky-high fan expectation – no matter how unrealistic – but also surpass them. Did you see the hair physics on that one lady in the trailer? It will be the “everything” video game.

Expect Geoff to unfurl a six-foot-long scroll to breathlessly recite every category in which Lucia and her male cohort fed its rivals to an alligator. Rockstar president Sam Houser and a fleet of designers will then materialize on stage as holograms broadcasted from Edinburgh, Scotland (we all know Rockstar wouldn’t be caught dead attending this thing in person), to give an emotional speech. Rockstar will also insist it provides its own “Please Wrap It Up” music in the form of a carefully curated licensed song. Let’s just say it’s Cardi B’s “WAP” because Rockstar is cool like that. Anyway, here’s a small sample of the awards Rockstar is taking:

Game of the Year – GTA VI

Player’s Choice – GTA VI

Best Game Direction – GTA VI

Best Sports/Racing Game – GTA VI

Best Narrative – GTA VI

Best (Crime) Family Game – GTA VI

Best Score & Music – GTA VI

Best Sim/Strategy – GTA VI

Best Performance – Lawerence “Florida Joker” Sullivan as Leonidas Joker – GTA VI

Best Adaptation (of Florida) – GTA VI

Best Ongoing Game – GTA VI

Best eSport – GTA VI

Best Multiplayer prested by [INSERT MONEYBAGS SPONSOR] – GTA VI

Games For Economical Impact – GTA VI

Most Anticipated Game – GTA VI (On PC)

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glapplebloom · 2 years

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Now for something completely different…

Yep, doing a book this time. I read this one a long time ago, but for the Re-Visit I’ve listened to the Let’s Read by Midnight Sonnet. There’s apparently an Audio CD version of it as well but unless I bought it I don’t think there is a way for me to listen to that. There is apparently some on Audible but I do not have a subscription to that. Either way, let’s review a story.

Released on April 2, 2013, in between Seasons 3 and 4, we find Twilight Sparkle worrying about her role as Princess. When she looked through her library she found nothing. But Spike suggested doing something Daring Do did: ask someone with experience for advice. She tried the Mayor but she was busy but when getting a snack, Mrs. Cake suggests asking family. And family means Shining Armor and Cadance. But before that, an excerpt.

They came to the rescue, putting on the long-forgotten Crystal Faire while Twilight searched for the Empire’s beloved Crystal Heart. When Twilight finally succeeded in recovering the precious, magical gemstone, not only did she pass her test, but balance was also restored to the stunning city.

Let’s forget that Twilight was trying to solve the problem on her own and when she screwed up it was up to Spike to actually save the day, thus why he gets “the brave and glorious” moniker and not Twilight. At the Empire, she finds them and asks for advice. Shining Armor failed trying to be uplifting but Cadance decides to give an example via story. For you see, she was just a pegasus living among Earth Ponies until a Sorceress named Prismia got a necklace that enhanced her negative emotions.

Cadance defeated her and earned her Alicorn Status. She also tells Twilight about the Crystal Heart Spell that will empower Twilight to become a great ruler. Let’s assume Cadance got it earlier in Season 3 and move on. Since the Crystal Heart Spell must be found since it is always different, Twilight figures she must find it. To help Twilight, Cadance gives her Sister-in-law the necklace she wore as a babysitter. The very same necklace that enhanced Prismia’s negative emotions and made her a villain. But if it is filled with positive emotions, it can be a benefit.

Spoilers, it’s being filled with negative emotions as when back in Ponyville asking for advice she’s receiving not really good ones for ruling a kingdom. She even snapped at Rarity trying to explain the Cosmic Spectrum that the necklace has. When they left, Gilda for some reason decided to eavesdrop. Spike pretty much revealed the secret meeting so anyone curious could have found out. And Gilda gives her own advice: do what you wanna do. You’re the boss so you make the decisions.

It also doesn’t help that her negative thoughts translate to voices empowering the Necklace with negative emotions. Twilight thinks she’s hearing voices, but these are likely her subconscious thoughts amplified by the necklace’s power. The same thoughts that pass through your mind briefly but don’t think anything of it. She even snaps at Pinkie Pie trying to help without realizing it. And thanks to Trixie and Gilda’s advice, Twilight goes to the Crystal Heart Library to try to find that Crystal Heart Spell.

Rarity noticing the Cosmic Spectrum put two and two together and figured she’s under its negative effects. They get the others while Twilight is at the Empire. Since she didn’t greet Shining Armor like normally, he got Cadance who figured out the problem and pointed it out to her sister. Now that Twilight realizes what’s up, she goes to find her friends to apologize. Luckily for her they were at the Crystal Empire and the apology leads to her finding the Crystal Heart Spell…

"Friendship is the creed. It has been from the start! It’s the only way to lead— with your Crystal Heart!"

So basically, it's not really a spell; it's common advice you would have normally taken if you weren’t preoccupied with finding a Crystal Heart Spell. With this in mind, Twilight tries some of her friends' ideas in Ponyville and that leads to all the numerous Holidays the Ponies celebrate because Pinkie Pie suggested adding more holidays.

Overall, it's alright. This is a book clearly meant for kids so a lot of my issues won’t really affect them. My issues? Gilda and Trixie were seen as troublemakers when they had only three episodes in total. Heck, Trixie was apologetic in her last appearance so doing pranks isn’t really her MO. Cadence, noticing her sister is having negative thoughts, gives her a necklace that amplifies negative thoughts. Like did she not see this coming?

While not everything in this book would be canon to GLAB, Cadance’s origin definitely is.

#MLP Revisit #mlp review #Green Lantern Apple Bloom #Book

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

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“Harry’s stylist, right?”

Summary: Harry and his personal stylist are great collaborators, on screen and off. She helps his visions come to life and in turn they’ve become close friends. As she helps him to bring his fashion dreams come to life during the Fine Line era, will some other dreams come to life as well?

Harry and his stylist go from colleagues to friends to lovers because they’ve been in love with each other from the jump

this fit is very important to this part lmaooo - I literally have no idea what to call this lol, anyway I've been sitting on this for forever and I wanted to get something out for yall and i love this story there will be a part 2 when i get to a writing mood. I love this story bc its my literal dream - anyway!! pls enjoy and reblog and lmk what you think :)

Word Count: 14k | Warnings: swearing, drinking, tame for now, should be smut eventually - aka slow burn (what else would you expect from me at this point i guess)

part 2

“Hey, H, I just had a question about one of the SNL outfits? Do you have a sec?”

Harry looked up from his phone and raised his brows at his stylist, Y/N.

Y/N had worked with Harry previously. In photoshoots for Another Man magazine and his most recent Gucci campaign. As well as some other random times, such as one-off award show looks and specific appearances. However, this past summer Harry had hired Y/N to work fulltime for him, exclusively. He had told her that he was planning on releasing his second album in the winter and he wanted someone there to help him plan his clothes for music videos, award season, interview appearances, as well as tour outfits.

Y/N stood just inside the doorway of the room, leaning her back against the wall, looking expectantly at him. Her eyes were wide and her lips were pursed. She was dressed simply in a white satin skirt and a matching cropped button-up, they both had cream flowers embroidered on, paired with horsebit slim Gucci mules. Her style was eclectic, but she had definitely noticed an increase of Gucci in her wardrobe since starting her employment with Harry.

Y/N’s passion in life was fashion and clothes and she constantly worried that one of Harry’s outfits wouldn’t deliver as much as she wanted it to. He was quick to tell her not to worry so much though, as long as they both were happy with it, how could anyone else not love it. Plus, he’d always add, it didn’t really matter what anyone else thought. But as more and more events began to crop up, Y/N’s worry over her work grew. She had only been the head stylist for Harry on projects that were still underwraps - except for Lights Up which had been released a couple weeks ago now.

The first project she ever worked on with Harry as his full-time personal stylist was the Lights Up music video. She had never worked so closely with one person for so long on just one project. Harry was insistent in vision and came in the first day filled with ideas, what he imagined for the video's concept and how he wanted to incorporate clothes. She had been happy to make his dreams become reality.

The two of them spent hours at his house for weeks, pouring over every detail of every outfit he planned to wear. They both wanted it to be perfect. And eventually, it all came together, exactly how they had planned. All of the garments for the video took up two entire garment racks. Y/N had made Harry pose in every single outfit for polaroids that she dated and then put into a lookbook she started for him. She had told him she planned to document every outfit she styled for him and Harry had been so excited. The outfits he wore in the video were received with praise when it was finally released, and Harry and Y/N were overjoyed. There was already a party for its release, but they both were especially happy that night. Throughout the evening, Harry and Y/N would gravitate to one another and fall into side conversations about the outfits and what people had been saying. Even if Harry said it didn’t matter, he and Y/N both knew, at the end of the day, they loved when people were happy with their work.

“Sure,” he bounced to his feet, but Y/N made a hand motion telling him that he could stay seated. He settled back down as she crossed over and sat beside him on his couch.

She was at his house in London today planning his next few appearances that were promotion for the upcoming album, Saturday Night Live was next. Harry had been taking a break from their work until she had come in.

It wasn’t unusual for Y/N to be at his house, they had been working together for months now. First, it had been for his outfits in his music videos that were filmed in late summer and early fall, like Lights up, but also a few other ones. Now, it was clothing for promo appearances, interviews, and listening parties. Next, it would be tour outfits, which she had already started planning, but officially, they hadn’t started discussions yet. Harry had helped her to get a flat closer to his house in London just for her to be able to head over and help with the planning or fitting of his outfits more easily. She also was constantly traveling with him to his appearances, making sure outfits were perfect right before whatever show it was or making last minute adjustments in case either of them decided something wasn’t right.

While Harry was a big guy, his waist was far trimmer than a usual man built to his size, this meant she had to take in a lot of his trousers at the waist. As well, with his shirts and coats, she’d have to take them in or out depending on how Harry wanted the fit to be - either perfectly tight or perfectly oversized. He was particular, but she appreciated his drive for fashion and how he cared for his appearance. Before performances, she often had to take things in or out based on any body fluctuation that had occurred since the initial fitting.

She was looking at her sketchpad that held all of her notes on his clothes - which was different from the lookbook of polaroids - including patches of the actual colors and little Harry figures dressed in what he was going to wear. Right now, she had the pad opened to a page titled “SNL Opener - November 16, 2019”.

“So I was thinking with your opening monologue outfit, it might look better to have a different colored blazer? A matching yellow would be great, but if you did more of a toned down - maybe light tan or beige - blazer with gold embellishments, you’d elevate it to look sophisticated and stylish, rather than just stylish. It’d be exactly like the runway look - which I know you sometimes don’t like, but I think it’s what looks best.”

She ran her finger between two swatches of what she thought would be the better blazer color and the one Harry had originally wanted. He wet his lips and gazed at the page as he thought about what she said. Normally, she liked monochrome on him, but she thought the deep blue underneath a completely yellow suit might wash him out on the stage.

“Yeah,” he pointed to the top beige swatch, “I think I do like this better.” He paused and turned his head to Y/N, looking in her eyes before asking, “Is that all?”

“Er...no,” Y/N ran a hand over her unstyled hair, slightly fluffed by her constant musing of it. She often fiddled with it while she worked, better than biting nails she always said when confronted about her tick. After a sigh Y/N continued, “I was just on the phone with Jane from Gucci and she said that for Look 57 they could only send your technical size, for some reason they can’t custom make it. Meaning, I’ll have to tailor the whole thing to you when it arrives. Is that alright? Or do you want to choose something else?”

She flipped to a page that said “SNL WS.” Harry followed her hands and nodded realizing she was talking about the Gucci suit he wanted to wear for Watermelon Sugar. It was a watermelon’s inside red. When he had found out the suit came in that color, he had danced around the dining table for what Y/N had felt like was an hour, humming the tune of Watermelon Sugar excitedly. Finally, she had coaxed him to sit back down and get back to their other work, which was still picking out clothes.

“No, that’s fine,” Harry shook his head and used his thumb to scratch under his lips absentmindedly, “It really needs to be that color.”

She nodded, she knew what his answer was going to be, but she also knew he still liked to make the final decision.

“Alright, we’ll just have to meet for longer when everything arrives, to tailor that one. Then the rest of them should just be making sure the fit is perfect.”

She rose up from her seat and patted Harry’s shoulder, leaving him to his thoughts, as she went back to finish up the calls with Jane and the designers.

He caught her hand in his before she completely walked away, “Thank you, Y/N.” He was so grateful he had hired someone who was as driven as he was and understood his fashion sense and wanted to help enhance what he was thinking, rather than someone trying to control him or just going along with whatever he said. Neither would be productive or helpful, thankfully Y/N loved her job and cared to do things right.

She grinned before exiting, “H, you’re going to be this century’s style icon if it’s the last thing I do.” He laughed as she walked out of the room, leaning back on the couch to continue his lurking on Instagram.

One week later

“I’m here, H! I come bearing Gucci and more!” Y/N said as she shuffled through Harry’s front door, she held a deconstructed rack and a garment bag filled with heavy suits and things. Inside were Harry’s four most important outfits for SNL, some other garments for SNL, and some clothes they had talked about for his upcoming listening sessions later in the month. Y/N needed to check the fit on all of them and begin tailoring the Watermelon Sugar suit. The key Harry had given to Y/N, previously, had let her in, but she assumed he was home. He said he’d be.

When Y/N rounded the corner she found another empty room. Confused, she set down her large items and went to search for Harry. Y/N literally needed him to be here for this part. It was the only real time she actually needed to see him in person - but that was beside the point.

“H?”

She wandered through the different rooms of his home. Normally, Y/N didn’t go into the other rooms, she was always mainly in his lounge area, the dining room, and a little casual office room he had - sometimes the kitchen for water, his bedroom once. Still not finding him, she decided to venture to the furthest door, Harry’s bedroom, she remembered.

Harry groaned at the sound of a knock on his door, he rolled over in his bed. After a few moments of hearing nothing else than his groan, Y/N felt like she had to go in and check on him.

“H, it’s 12:30 and we agreed we’d meet at noon. Are you feeling alright?”

Y/N moved into the room and found a shirtless Harry surrounded by rumpled sheets, clutching at a pillow. He groaned into his pillow again in response. Her legs bent at the edge of the bed and she reached out to smooth some of his chestnut hair out of his face, “What’s wrong?”

He moved his head to allow his eyes to look at her, “‘M so tired, don’t know why. My stomach kind of hurts too…” Y/N looked at him quizzically, before running her hand over his tan forehead once more, this time checking for a fever. “You don’t have a fever. When did you go to sleep? Have you eaten anything today?” With her help, Harry moved into a seated position, head tilted back against the bedpost. He sat silent for a moment before blowing air out of his mouth. “Went to sleep kind of late for me, I guess...Haven’t eaten.”

“Ok, you’re just tired from staying up late, you old man, and you might be a little dehydrated and hungry. Listen, I’ll go make you some food if you get up and prepare yourself for the day. We need to get all your clothes fitted so that I can fix anything before next week.” Y/N was always good at getting Harry back on track when he got distracted - or even out of the station, when he wasn’t in the mood to work on something. She slid from her perch on the bed and walked to almost the edge of the room before Harry called her back.

“Can you pick out my clothes for me?” His soft, tired voice whined. “So hard...and you’ve got the best eye. Pleaseeee,” he pleaded softly.

Rolling her eyes, Y/N sighed and made her way back into his room. Crossing to the door that led to his walk-in closet, she set to work. As silly as he was being, she could never pass up on a chance to pick out an outfit for Harry.

“You’re literally going to be changing the entire time, H, you could have just thrown on sweats,” she called back to him once inside the smaller room. He repeated how she always picked the right thing, even for just around the house. Again, Y/N rolled her eyes at Harry, but she also couldn’t hide the warm smile on her face that was due to his compliment.

She couldn’t believe how dramatic Harry could be sometimes. Right now, he was a lesser form of hungover and he was acting like his life was ending. Y/N had made a note a while ago to never agree to a meeting on the day after any partying. She learned the hard way one particularly terrible Sunday. She had come round his house at a similar time, noon-ish and found Harry dead asleep, backwards in his bed. When she had roused him, his only responses were grumbles and groans. She had to not only pick out his clothes, but also help dress him. Then, after providing water and aspirin, she moved all their work into his bedroom so they could work from there. Harry had proved to be a baby when it came to hangovers. But, she hadn’t realized he could get like this even without being truly hungover.

After settling on his live aid t-shirt, that Y/N was eternally jealous of, located at the front of his drawer and his favorite corduroy trousers, she walked out and threw them in the direction of his toned, but slumped body. “I will not get you boxers, that is most definitely not in my job description, Boss.” Y/N sent a pointed look in his direction, moving to finally leave the room. While he was technically her boss as her employer, their work relationship was extremely collaborative and it never felt like he was in control of her, she just liked to give him shit for being a drama queen.

“Guess I’ll be going commando. How’s that going to work with me changing in front of you a bunch of times?” He teased right back, taking the clothes you had thrown at him and giving them a onceover. His teasing signalled that he was already feeling better.

Y/N shook her head and walked out of the room, “For the love of God, Harry, please put on underwear before you come out and continuously strip in front of me!”

The words he shouted after that were muffled, but they were something along the lines of how the human body is beautiful and shouldn’t be covered up. Unbelievable. As she set to work on making both of them some lunch, she finally heard Harry begin moving around. They had a lot of work to do as it was and whenever Harry was in a mood, whether it be a good mood or a bad mood, they always seemed to have a hard time focusing.

One night, that could be seen as the poster child for Harry and Y/N’s procrastination, was during the planning for the Adore You music video. Harry was in a super good mood that day and he had brought that energy to their meeting at his house. Y/N was supposed to be fitting him for the various outfits, but Harry, in his mania, ordered an overzealous amount of Chinese food. It took her and Harry hours to even make a dent in the food. And while they passed the time with eating, Harry and Y/N got further and further from their tasks, opting for conversations that included more fun topics than work. They had gossipped about some of the other people they worked with, Harry had begged for “the tea” about some of his other staffers and Y/N was happy to oblige. As much as Y/N would hate to admit it, she loved when they got off of work subjects and talked about how their day’s had been and what has been on their nerves lately. It was a nice way to decompress, it was like hanging out with a friend, except it wasn’t, not really.

Harry shuffled into the kitchen wearing what Y/N had picked out for him. Her smile grew knowing that he hadn’t changed what she’d picked. His confidence in her and her abilities never failed to feel like the biggest compliment.

“Go sit at the dining table, I’ve made us some little sandwiches and then we can decide the order we want to go through the outfits in.”

Before following Y/N’s orders, Harry continued his shuffling around, first to the cabinet for a glass, then to the fridge for water. At the end of the table, she set the plates between the head of the table’s spot and the one to its left. Harry took the side spot, so Y/N was on the end. After a bite of his food, Harry moaned loudly in contentment. This caused an amused look on Y/N’s face, there had been nothing special in his house so she had just made what was possible. This meant that Harry’s satisfaction was a little over the top.

“You’re acting like you haven’t eaten in a week. What did you do last night that got you in such a twist?” Y/N asked as she took a sip of her own glass of water. Harry nibbled at his lower lip after swallowing, trying to understand why he was particularly tired today.

“I guess I forgot to eat properly yesterday and then I went out running. And I stayed up late on the phone with,” he paused, eyes flashing to Y/N and then away again, “someone for SNL.”

Y/N hummed at his words before going back to her own eating. She didn’t understand why he hesitated about telling her he’d been on the phone last night, it especially irked her that he wouldn’t even say with whom. Professionally, it wasn’t really her business, but Harry was never secretive with her. Plus, it seemed to be work related so why was he being so flighty about it.

Moving forward, Harry peppier from eating and simply moving around, the pair set to work. They decided on trying on everything else first and then saving the Watermelon Sugar suit to the end. The other three main pieces for the night fit perfectly, Y/N had to only do minor reworks of certain areas.

“H, I need you to hold still…” Y/N interrupted Harry’s ramblings as she was crouched beside him.

She had to take up the hem on the pant legs so right now she was trying to pin them in the place she and Harry had agreed upon, without messing with the pleats.

“Sorry,” He mumbled, straightening out his back to stand taller.

He stayed quiet for a bit until Y/N popped back up, she looked at her notebook for reference on what she still had to tailor.

“Okay, next, the pants crotch is looking pretty fitted, so I assume you want it taken down a bit,” Y/N said as she got back into her crouching position. “Look in the mirror and tell me where you think letting it out looks best, I don’t have the best vantage point when I’m up this close…” she trailed off, placing her measuring tape directly on top of Harry’s crotch and running it down his leg a ways.

Once done with her first attempt at where she thought was best to let the pants out, she turned her eyes to the mirror that showed Harry in his suit with Y/N on her knees before him. Harry cleared his throat as he looked in the mirror, seeing Y/N with her eyes wide in anticipation in the position she was in made him want to run and hide. Her hands were extremely close to his dick, but it was literally her job, he knew he had to shake the thoughts that were running through his mind.

“Maybe just a bit further up actually, as much as I like the high waist with dropped crotch, I want this suit to have that specifically tailored look,” his hands motioned for Y/N to bring the drop up a ways.

Her hands then brought the measuring tape up, once again grazing over his area. Again, Y/N looked at Harry through the mirror for approval, and this time he gave it and she placed a single pin in the place where the pants would be let out to.

Standing up, Y/N hoped Harry didn’t notice the blush gracing her face. She was a stylist and used to being around naked bodies as well as touching around a man’s crotch when working. But Harry in this suit must have been magic, because she had felt extremely vulnerable on her knees in front of him in it. She had felt flushed the minute he hadn’t liked what she had done initially and she hated that she felt that way for some reason. Beginning to work on the sleeves of the suit set her at ease, Y/N was thankful to no longer be kneeling or in such close proximity to what was under Harry’s pants.

“Anything on your mind of late?” Harry broke the silence.

Y/N hummed with a pin stuck between her lips, folding up the suit jacket’s right sleeve. Plucking it from her mouth after a few silent moments, she said, “Not really, haven’t had time to do much else lately. Always thinking about you,” Y/N flushed as she realized what she had just said. “I mean, thinking about you like about your clothes and when they’re going to arrive and what I need to do about them, not you personally, sorry that came out wrong,” her blush intensified as she rapidly fumbled through her last sentence.

“Ow!”

“Oh my god!”

While Y/N had gotten flustered with her words, she managed to stick the pin she was using straight into Harry’s flesh. She immediately removed the pin from where it had stuck him.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, H, we’ve got to get this off. I need to make sure you’re not bleeding onto the suit.”

Y/N rushed around to Harry's backside and began slipping off his suit jacket as Harry chuckled and began to unbutton the shirt as carefully as possible.

“‘S alright, Y/N, if there’s any blood on the shirt it’ll blend in, blood is practically the same color.” She glared at him through the mirror and Harry continued to laugh, “That is not funny, H, I shouldn’t have stuck you in the first place.”

“No, no,” Harry hushed Y/N as she began to slip off his shirt from one side to the other, taking off the sleeve on the side she hadn’t poked, “you’ve got so much on your plate with all the planning for the upcoming events. Then you worked yourself up over a little slip.” As Y/N carefully unbuttoned the cuff of the sleeve to try and slip off the shirt with the least amount of blood on it as possible, Harry finished with, “I wouldn’t mind if you were just thinking about me, though, an’ not the clothes.”

This time, Y/N was very in control, not willing to let herself slip up a second time today. She didn’t know how to respond to what Harry had just admitted. It wasn’t like this hasn't happened before. Both of them were guilty of making little comments that made it sound like they were interested in each other in a way that was a little different than professional or friendly. But every time the other person always had the responsibility to shut the idea down or completely blow past what their counter had just said.

“Harry…” She began, it was soft and pleading, like she was saying she couldn’t entertain that idea. Examining his forearm, after pulling the shirt completely away and resting it on a nearby chair, she saw a little spot of blood protruding from the pin prick she had caused. “Where do you keep your bandages?” Y/N decided that it was best to brush past Harry’s words this time and went off to find his first aid kit. Harry stood there, shirtless, staring at the blood on his arm. It really wasn’t a lot and it wouldn’t have done anything to the suit, but Y/N was always so careful and never wanted to ruin any of Harry’s clothes.

On her return, Y/N came upon a shirtless Harry perched on the edge of the table, with one arm crossed and his other - that was bleeding - being held slightly away from his body, as if Harry was afraid to touch it. His posture was slumped so Y/N could see his spine curving beneath his tanned honey-soft skin and his shoulder blades slightly flexed. While most of Harry’s body was covered in tattoos, she noticed how the closest tattoo to his back was the small line drawing of a guitar on the back of his left shoulder. Other than that his smooth back was bare. Y/N found it interesting that Harry had never chosen to ink his back. She jogged lightly back into the room and Harry’s head turned to watch her approach. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth as he regarded her. She noticed he was being particularly quiet, but she had no idea why. Maybe he was still tired.

Y/N set to work on finding the correct tissue, neosporin, and bandage for Harry’s small wound. As she worked on fixing up her mistake, Harry’s eyes followed her movements. Green eyes flickering between her hands on his arm and her own eyes focusing on her task.

“After this, I actually can just head home and finish the rest of the work,” Y/N said as she unpackaged the bandage, “I already know where I need to take in the suit sleeves and the shirt’s sleeves were looking fine. So, I can get out of your hair and you can get to sleep early tonight.” She placed the nude toned bandage over Harry’s arm, she was a little sad to find he didn’t own fun bandages. That was something that she expected from Harry, but she resigned that maybe she didn’t know everything about Harry.

Before Harry could speak, Y/N continued, “Don’t rehearsals for the show start tomorrow? When are you flying to New York?” She ran her hand over the bandage, smoothing it in place. Her hand lingered there as her eyes looked up and met Harry’s. Harry twitched his arm away from Y/N’s touch and scratched his nose slightly.

“Yeah, I’m flying out tomorrow morning. When are you set to fly out?”

“Friday. I’ll get in before the final dress rehearsal and then I’ll be there for the show.” Y/N stepped back and began to rehang the suit jacket and shirt that they had discarded in her haste to not get blood on them.

Then Y/N stood there staring at Harry. He looked at her slightly confused by her doing nothing when she said she was leaving. “Pants, H.” She said finally when she realized he had forgotten he was still wearing the suit pants. “Oh! Sorry,” Harry exclaimed as he began to unbutton and remove the pants he was wearing. He handed her the pants and she exchanged them with his live-aid t shirt. He took it graciously before slipping it on and disguising his toned body beneath it. Then he took his pants from earlier and fully redressed himself.

“Damn!” Y/N said and Harry’s head flipped to watch her as she began to put all of the clothing back in their garment bags and take down the rack.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just pinched myself with the rack, I’m all left feet today.”

“Here,” Harry chuckled as he walked over to help Y/N, “let me help you with all this. Just in the boot of your car, yeah?” Y/N nodded and smiled in appreciation for Harry. He grabbed her keys laying on the table and then took the rack and a garment bag. Even if things sometimes got tense between them, for whatever reason, he was always quick to move past it and be thoughtful and kind in the best ways for Y/N. After shaking her hand out, she grabbed the last garment bags and followed Harry out to her car. Harry shut the back of her car softly and turned to face Y/N, she stood beside her car door, ever so slightly leaning against it. He walked to her side and smiled.

“I’ll see you in a week,” he said before wrapping his arms around Y/N’s much smaller frame. His body was radiating heat and it felt good against Y/N in the crisp night air of London. She pressed into his hold and wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him hard. “Less than...Can’t wait to see you make an absolute fool of yourself out there.” Harry protested her tease with a small, “Hey!” but mostly focused on his hands on her back and the way her hair felt especially soft under his chin. Finally, Y/N pulled away, “Kidding! You’ll be amazing and you’ll look killer while doing it.” She winked before opening her car door and driving off. Harry was left with the lingering scent of her perfume and shampoo mingling in his nose.

It was the Saturday night, November 16th, 2019.

Harry and Y/N were in his dressing room before the show started. His outfits for the night were lined up, except for his opener one that Y/N had just dressed him in. His first change would be for Light’s Up, then a couple skit outfits that had to be moved elsewhere for quick changes, then the Watermelon Sugar suit, and then finally his end of the show casual look. The opener looked incredible, it’s fit was impeccable and Y/N knew people were going to love it.

She stepped back from Harry to give his whole body a once over, the SNL hairstylist had just blown out his hair and given him a sort of middle part. It definitely looked good and paired with the suit - Y/N could already tell it was going to be a hit by all accounts. Harry grinned back at her, doing a little dance to show just how much he was loving his clothes and how excited he was.

Grabbing the lint roller, Y/N gave the lapels of his suit jacket a once over and then moved it slightly out of the way to roll the big collar of Harry’s shirt and the bits of the body of the shirt that were showing underneath the jacket. Basically, Y/N was lint rolling over Harry’s clothed abs. Apparently, that was a ticklish area for Harry because he began to squirm and giggle under the tool’s touch.

“Seriously, H?”

She smiled as she said it, so excited for Harry that she couldn’t be mad at his relestness.

“Can’t help it. ‘M so giddy. Plus, I’m a wee bit ticklish.”

Y/N gave him a single laugh before removing the lint roller and smoothing over the shirt against his stomach and then over the lapels when she put the jacket back in place. She adjusted the Gucci reader’s she was wearing today, that were more for decoration than anything, but she liked to pretend they made her see better.

“You look smashing, Mr. Styles. Absolutely gorgeous, if I do say so myself.”

“Are you talking to me or the suit?” Harry asked as he flipped to look in the full length mirror in the dressing room.

“Can’t it be both?”

“Sure,” Harry said, he noticed the clock and realized it was his time to get in places. He leaned down and placed a small kiss on Y/N’s cheek, “It’s my time, thank you, Y/N.” She blushed at his words and actions. As he walked out the door, she called after him, “Break a leg, H!” He sent a final air kiss in her direction before completely disappearing.

She looked at the clothes hanging on the rack in the room and palmed over the fabric. Checking the lapels and brushing the lint roller over the, she finally stepped back and was happy with how they looked. When the show was just about to start, she flitted to the part of backstage where she could watch Harry perform. She giggled along to his monologue and grinned whole-heartedly when the crowd would roar with approval. Y/N had heard all of the jokes already because of the dress rehearsal yesterday, but it didn’t matter. Harry was killing it. She also took time to appreciate how good Harry looked in his suit on stage. In front of the lights and all the people, his suit shined brightly with the pops of blue and yellow and the oversized grey-iege jacket. His soft chestnut hair billowed perfectly to frame his forehead as he sipped from the faux martini. Y/N bit her lip to stifle her laugh. The fact that Harry, her boss and friend, was up on the Saturday Night Live stage with pink and blue nails sipping from a faux martini, it was perfect.

When Harry came back for his first performance change Y/N was right there waiting for him.

“Hi, that was really good,” she smiled up at him as he began to take off his coat.

He smiled brightly back at her as he exhaled a hefty breath, “You think so?”

“Yes! C’mon, everyone loved it. You delivered it all perfectly…” she took over undoing the buttons on the shirt because Harry was moving too slowly. “I’m in a man band now…” Y/N mumbled under her breath before chuckling.

“Did you just imitate my accent?” Harry said, now pulling off his sleeves.

Y/N moved around his back to take the shirt to hang and grab his Lights Up outfit. They worked like a well-oiled machine together, constantly taking over roles to get things done more efficiently, but never stepping on each other’s toes.

“Nope,” she winked before handing him the black sequin jumpsuit and exchanging it for his yellow pants. After rehanging the pants and bringing over Harry’s different set of boots, Y/N said, “Y’know, I’d have to say that your hair is giving your suit a run for its money.” She placed the shoes on the table beside Harry and began to fix into the place different parts of the jumpsuit, moving to zip up the back and then coming to the front to smooth it.

“What do you mean?” Harry looked in the mirror and delicately touched the edges of his hair, considering Y/N’s statement.

“No one ever really sees it how it is, nicely blown out but not too much product so it falls to frame your face. What’d you tell the hair person you wanted?” Y/N stepped back to allow Harry to change his boots from one Gucci pair to another, like he did with most of his wardrobe.

“Just told them to make me look mature. You think it looks good?” He looked up at Y/N when he asked the question.

“Think it looks sexy, that’s what I’m saying, no one’s gonna be able to focus on your clothes with how good your hair looks.”

“Ah,” he deftly runs his hands down his suit as he looks in the mirror.

Y/N just stares at Harry, checking him over one more time. She wasn’t lying about his hair, it was sexy and she wanted to run her hands through it to feel how soft it was. In a complete friend way of course.

“I like it…”

“It looks like you just rolled out of bed, but the bed was made of angel feathers.”

Harry laughed at Y/N’s description. He shifted his body to face her more and moved closer to her in the process.

“Alright, you should probably get back out there,” Y/N closes the gap between them and adjusts the chain of his jade and silver crosses and brushes over his broad shoulders.

They’re professional touches, but her movements hold an undercurrent of intimacy that neither of them realize. If anyone had been looking on, they would see how Y/N’s fingers delicately caressed Harry’s skin right before she cradled the pendants to move them in place. They would also see Harry instinctively lean forward into her touch and breathe slightly deeper to take in her scent. When she brushes over his shoulders, he straightens up at the touch and shows he’s ready to get back out there. It’s as if she prepared him to go.

Harry sings Lights Up and the crowd loves it. Sarah kills her drumming and Mitch eats up lead guitar. The backup singers bring out a different tone to the song. It is all around an amazing performance.

As Y/N clapped along with the crowd from backstage, Aidy Bryant approaches her.

“You’re Harry’s stylist, right?”

Y/N turns her head at the woman next to her, “Yeah?”

Aidy smiles, eyes slightly gleaming, “Well, you’re wonderful at your job.” As Y/N is about to thank her, Aidy continues, “And Harry knows that too, he talked about you all week. We all thought you were his girlfriend at first.”

Y/N laughed lightly and had to keep herself from letting her jaw drop at Aidy’s words. She even choked a bit on her own spit and had to cough slightly before even being able to think of a response, “Well, um, yeah...no, H, Harry is just my employer and...friend. No dating, we just get along well. Which is important since we spend a lot of time together - for work of course!”

Aidy smiled sweetly at Y/N, “Yeah, Harry explained that when Beck asked him how long you’d been together. At first he had said a couple months and then said ‘wait, Y/N is just my stylist, we’ve been working together for a couple months’ and then we all felt really dumb.”

“Don’t feel dumb,” Y/N reassured her, unsure why she was actually continuing this conversation, “He loves to talk about clothes and that’s where I fit in to his life, so I’m sure my name would come up a fair bit. Was that it?”

“Yeah I guess, but-” Aidy began to say more, but Y/N cut her off.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry, but Harry’s finished and I’ve got to go help him change for his next song.”

Aidy was left in Y/N’s wake, chuckling to herself, fully reassured about the reason that they had all thought Harry had been dating Y/N. Because they already acted like a couple. And they were both helplessly in love with one another and neither of them knew.

The rest of the show went off without a hitch. Harry continued to wow the crowd and Y/N sent him off from his dressing room always looking fabulous. Just as he was about to walk back on stage for his final farewell, Y/N noticed a tiny string on his trousers zipper. Unable to stop Harry and unable to grab at the string without looking odd, she had to let him walk on stage with it. It wasn’t actually a big deal, but Y/N sighed in annoyance because she knew that string was going to bug her for the rest of the night.

“Treat People With Kindness!” Harry finishes off his farewell.

Applause begins to sound and the cast is out front hugging and chatting, while Y/N is watching from the side still fixated on the string on Harry’s pants, now simply dangling. Finally, they begin to clear the stage because it’s time for the after party. Y/N knew there was no stealing Harry away to fix the problem that was now fixated in her mind. Every cast and crew member was trying to talk to him, congratulating him, hugging him, anything to spend time with the incredible man. Y/N couldn’t blame them, but she also wanted to be able to go some place quiet and debrief with Harry about his outfits. She wanted to look up what people were saying about his clothes and discuss the critiques with Harry. She also wanted to start discussing what was coming next with Harry. But most of all, she just wanted to hang out with Harry.

What Y/N wanted wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, which she knew, but it still only grew her annoyance with that string. If only she could get it off of him, maybe then her mind would be able to relax a little.

She meandered backstage, resigned she wouldn’t be talking to Harry for a while. There she went to find the band’s dressing room, knowing she would find Mitch or Sarah who she’d be happy to talk to. They weren’t ones for the spotlight and no one ever really seemed to want to brownnose with them at events like this. Y/N had met them a few times.

The first was when Harry had asked Y/N to meet him in the studio in mid July, Mitch and Sarah had both been there helping Harry finish up something for the album. Y/N never asked what, she liked music quite a bit, but when it came to the technical part of it, it went completely over her head. Harry had introduced them both and they seemed lovely. After that, she had seen them around for an event or two of Harry’s. It wasn’t much, but it was more than any of the other people around right now.

Just as she was about to knock on the door it swung open, revealing Harry’s entire backing band. “Hey,” Y/N said sheepishly, “Harry’s being fawned over by the masses and I don’t actually know anyone else here. Is it alright if I hang out with you all at this after party? I doubt there’s going to be anyone really dying to meet the stylist.”

She smoothed her own clothes as she spoke. Y/N wanted to look professional tonight because sometimes when she was dressed in more fun or “young” clothes she got mistaken for someone who had snuck in. The only thing that got people to not question her authority to be where she was, was a card that read ‘staff’ that she would clip onto whatever she was wearing at places like this. Tonight, she chose a pair of purple plaid pants, a sleek lilac tank underneath a cream knit shawl, and cream Gucci mules. Ever since Harry took an interest in Y/N’s pearl necklace, she had largely stopped wearing hers because she hoped never to be photographed matching with him. However, she had known the pearls would have completed the look, even putting them on in her hotel room, twisting a pearl in her hand as she looked in the mirror, and then taking the necklace off again and settling on a different silver necklace instead. The ‘staff’ card was clipped to her pants pocket tonight.

“Of course!” Sarah said as the band began to file out of the room, “You might want to take your tag off now, though, you’re done working for the night.”

Her laughter rang sweetly through Y/N’s ears and she smiled back before removing her identifying card. She hated the piece of plastic and was glad to take it off, it never went with her outfits, but she had gotten tired of taking out her business card every time someone asked what she was doing. Y/N was sure that during the tour she’d be fine without it, but as Harry’s show appearances were beginning to ramp up she knew it would be helpful to have.

“Thanks...you all were amazing out there tonight. Second time on the SNL stage right?”

The group of you began to walk in the direction of where the after party was being held. Mitch piped up, “Thanks. Yeah, I love their box stage setup, it’s pretty cool.” Y/N was happy that she had people who were easy to talk to so that she wouldn’t be alone tonight.

Arriving in the room of the party, they were all quick to grab the alcohol that was being provided at the pop up bar. Y/N wasn’t normally a fan of drinking at events like these, mainly because she was not usually invited to this part of the night and when she was she wanted to be alert. But she figured there wasn’t much else to do so she took a hearty sip of the champagne. It was a little sweet, her face scrunched.

“Too sweet?” Mitch questioned when he saw Y/N’s face.

“Just a little for my taste.”

“Harry’s not going to be drinking tonight then. So particular about his alcohol,” Mitch continued.

Y/N laughed, “Well I’m glad, then I don’t have to deal with him being a baby about his hangover tomorrow.”

Mitch quirked an eyebrow at Y/N’s statement. Sarah and the others in the band had dispersed to mingle with the SNL party goers, leaving Mitch and Y/N to their conversation.

Realizing what she said could be seen as slightly weird out of context, Y/N quickly started again, “because I’m supposed to go shopping with Harry tomorrow. He wanted to go to Gucci and a couple other stores here before flying to LA. I’m going back to London until the listening parties, so we need to figure out the finishing touches for those and..” Y/N trailed off trying to remember which looks weren’t completed yet for the next few shows, Mitch waited patiently, “a few of the suits for the Late Late Show. He’s not happy with one of them so we might switch it. But anyway, you know how he is with a hangover. Proper child.”

Mitch threw his head back in laughter at Y/N’s serious look that she gave him. “Yeah, he can be...a lot. I meant to tell you, Harry looked great tonight. All of the clothes were fantastic,” Mitch added.

He was kind and Y/N appreciated him sticking with her. The two of them had rested themselves against a wall near the bar, sipping their champagne and enjoying each other’s company.

“Thank you.”

Mitch opened his mouth to say something else, but Heidi Gardener, another SNL member interrupted.

“Y/N, right!?”

Y/N and Mitch both turn to her, equally taken aback by the sudden burst of energy from this person they didn’t really know. Y/N nodded.

“Oh my gosh! You have to tell me where you got the jacket Harry is wearing!”

Heidi even goes as far to point in Harry’s direction. Y/N knows what she’s talking about, but her eyes still wander to where she pointed. Harry stood in a clump of people, surrounded by Ben Winston, James Corden, and the Gerbers who had all come to watch. She sighed as she watched his eyes shine as he laughed with a smile on his face. She hoped that by now the string had fallen off his pants by now, if not she was going to kick herself later.

“Oh, it’s Bode,” Y/N’s eyes coming back to meet Heidi’s happy face, “but it’s custom made from a vintage blanket. There’s only two that exist.”

Y/N and Mitch watched as Heidi’s face dropped.

“And I’m pretty sure the designer owns the other one,” Y/N added, “Sorry.”

Heidi smiles and jokes, “Know any ways I could possibly get Harry to give me his?”

“He loves that coat. I have no idea what you could possibly do to convince him he didn’t need it anymore.”

“Sex, probably,” Mitch says under his breath.

Heidi doesn’t catch it as she walks back off and Y/N turns to swat him with her free hand.

“What? He always gives away his clothes to girl’s he has crushes on.” Y/N rolls her eyes at Mitch’s words.

“Probably best if you don’t inform the masses about that,” a new voice says.

Unbeknownst to Mitch and Y/N, Harry had broken away from his entourage to steal a few minutes with his two friends, his best friends if he was being honest. They laugh together as he wraps his arms around their shoulders and pulls them both into his chest. Y/N feels the warmth radiating from Harry’s body as she snuggles into his side. Her hand wraps under his jacket and around his waist to squeeze right about his hip bone. His face is gleaming with a small sheen of sweat, but his smile is so big she barely notices his perspiration as he looks down at her.

“Heard you were talkin’ shit?”

Mitch quips, “Us? Never.”

Harry scoffs, “Come off it!”

When he releases Y/N and Mitch from his grasp, Mitch straightens up while Y/N’s eyes immediately go down to Harry’s crotch. She’s not paying attention to their conversation as she tries to make out in the dim light whether the string is gone or not. The men realize she’s not listening and they both follow her gaze.

Confused, Harry asks, “Y/N, any particular reason you’re staring at my dick?”

Her head shoots up, eyes wide and cheeks flushed from embarrassment.

“I wasn’t!”

Mitch laughs and decides he wants another glass of champagne right then, mumbling something about how that was his cue. Harry smiles, knowing she wasn’t doing what he had said, but still intrigued to know what was going on in her mind.

“You had a string right on your zipper and it’s been bugging me since you went out for your outro. This is the first time I’ve seen you on your own and I couldn't exactly go up to you in a random crowd and grab at your crotch. But now I can’t see in this light…” Y/N bit at her lower lip and furrowed her brow still trying to see if the string was there.

“Have you really been thinking about it this whole time?” Harry asked, slightly concerned.

“Yes...I know it doesn’t matter, but I just want your clothes to look perfect.”

Harry takes a deep breath as he makes a small smile at Y/N. Then he brushes over the front of his pants, hoping he removes the string if it's still attached to him. “There, I’m sure it’s gone now. I’m sorry you had to worry about that. Just know everyone I’ve talked to has been raving about the clothes.” He placed his ring-clad hand on Y/N’s upper arm and squeezed it.

“You did an amazing job,” Y/N said.

Harry pulls her into his chest one more time. This time without Mitch so both of Harry’s arms go around her shoulders and both of hers go around his slender waist. Again her hands disappear under his coat and thumb over his warm white t-shirt, her face resting on his chest right next to the word ‘Sex’. His arms tighten around her back as they rest there for a while. Y/N always has to make herself pull away, knowing that Harry will stay there for as long as he can - in anyone’s embrace - and remembering they’re in a public setting, she didn’t want anyone to assume things, even if she had already been made aware that people had.

“We’ll debrief more later tonight, yeah? The champagne is terrible so I won’t be drinking,” Harry said.

Y/N laughed under her breath as she smiled at his words. Mitch and her knew Harry too well. She nodded about getting together later, “Alright. Get back to your fan club.” Harry narrowed her eyes at her words, not sure if she was trying to sound sarcastic or not.

Hey, I’m back at the hotel. Just let me know when you want to debrief :) x

Y/N texted Harry the minute she got back to the hotel, she had no idea if he had left before her or was still at the after party. All she knew was that it was late and she was starting to get tired. Still, it was important for them to talk about their plans for tomorrow and she also really wanted to just be with him alone. Whenever they would debrief after big events Harry and Y/N would laugh at all the outrageous stuff they had seen go on throughout the night.

When she was still a freelance stylist she had helped Harry to plan his Camp outfit at the Met Gala. That night, they never even went to bed and had to debrief about the clothes the next afternoon over tea at the Palace. Both her and Harry were recovering from their exhaustion and nursing equally terrible hangovers. But there they were, sitting in the center of the dining area of the hotel, being served some of the nicest tea and sandwiches Y/N had ever had. It was amazing. Y/N had never felt that rich in her life before and Harry had told her the craziest stories about the most famous people in attendance. It was almost unbelievable what these people would reveal to Harry and Y/N was happy to listen to all of it, promising to never tell anyone else. That outing was probably the first time Harry realized he really liked Y/N and wanted to work more closely with her.

While tonight wasn’t quite as wild as the Met Gala had been, Y/N was still excited to hear any funny stories Harry might have in addition to their clothing talk. They really hadn’t had much time to chat since she had gotten to New York yesterday so it would be nice to just be alone together. Even if Y/N chalked their debriefs up to ‘shop talk’, she was always very excited for them.

As she reached her hotel room door, her phone buzzed with a message from Harry.

I’m still out, but should be heading back soon. Up to you if you want to wait up or we can just debrief in the morning while we shop. x H

Y/N sighed at the message, she wanted to wait up and debrief before tomorrow, if not for alone time with Harry but professionally for being able to plan out their shopping tomorrow. Where Harry was carefree, Y/N was meticulous and planned out. She liked to have fun, but she knew when she had to get her work done, even when Harry was off in his own mind. Their work styles mostly coincided, Harry could be serious and focused, too, but often when he was surrounded by all his famous friends he had a hard time saying ‘no’ to whatever came up. So Y/N knew that Harry’s definition of ‘soon’ could range from actually soon to almost dawn. She really hoped he actually meant soon, so she shot him a text saying:

Just knock on my room and if I open it we can debrief lol x

Harry smiled down at his phone when Y/N’s text came through, slightly chuckling before double tapping and placing a heart reaction of her text. Then he was pulled into the limo that one of his friend’s had gotten them and was handed a flute of champagne.

Back at the hotel, Y/N threw her phone on the bed and decided to change and simply settle in for the night. If Harry made it back, he made it back and if he didn’t she’d wake up well rested.

Maybe thirty minutes into scrolling on her phone, Y/N heard a rough knock on her door. She was actually quite surprised that Harry had indeed been back soon. Rising from her snuggled place in the bed, she shifted around her night clothes and padded to her door. There stood, rather hung, a slightly disheveled Harry. His hair was whipped into disaster, something was smudged on his face, and she noticed a stain on his t-shirt that hadn’t been there the last time she’d been with him.

He slurred her name as he stumbled through the doorway. Y/N closed her eyes and sighed in exasperation. She was in awe that somehow Harry hadn’t gotten off his ass in the past hour and a half.

“What happened to not drinking tonight?”

She walked beside him and helped shove him into a sitting position on her bed. He flapped his arms, chaotically trying to get his plaid jacket off. Throwing her phone in the direction of her pillow, she moved to help Harry with his jacket. After quite a bit of strugglings, Y/N finally got the Bode jacket off of him successfully and threw it onto the nearby chair. Sighing, she settled beside him.

“So, Harry, care to explain?”

“Hi, Y/N…” He swayed slightly, attempting to face Y/N more. She threw out a hand to his shoulder, gripping him tightly to try and steady him.

“We went in this limousine, and they had champagne - good champagne - and I drank a bottle or so pretty quickly.”

“Or so? Oh Harry...I mean you’re free to make your own choices, but I don’t know if this was one of your best.”

“Wasn’t...wasn’t my idea. I was planning on just going back to the hotel. Then James convinced me to come out for a bit. Then the champagne was looking good so I went for it.”

“Like I said, you can make your own choices,” she patted his arm and went to the en suite bathroom to wet a washcloth to clean off his face.

“So, is it champagne on your shirt or am I going to have to go through hell to get the stain out?” She called.

Harry groaned and leaned back on the bed, fingering at the crisp white sheets. “Champagne,” he finally muttered as Y/N reappeared into the dim room, only the outside world and the light in the bathroom lighting this area.

“And on the face?”

She climbed onto the bed and kneeled beside Harry’s prone body, beginning to swipe at the smudge on his face. He tilted his head to face her, bringing the cheek with the dirt to lay facing perfectly up. His jawline showed perfectly and she felt the strength that laid beneath the skin she was washing.

His eyes flitted up to her face, trying to stop the spins he was currently experiencing. He hadn’t thought he was that drunk until he had been required to find his way up to their floor on his own.

“Lipstick?”

She sighed, running the washcloth over his cheek once more, and tried to push the image of some woman (or man who wore lipstick, she guessed) with her lips all over Harry’s face. She didn’t want to know who it was or why it was. It was too hard, especially after the day of people asking her about Harry and her relationship and insinuating things about him and his romantic life. She just liked to keep the words Harry and romance apart as much as possible, it made her life easier that way.

“It was only from-”

“It’s ok, Harry, I don’t need to know who you were…” She stopped herself, not even wanting to say ‘kissing’ or ‘snogging’ or even worse ‘shagging’. Adults were human beings and they could do a lot in an hour and a half. And again, she didn’t want to know.

“You keep doing that. Are you mad at me?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Calling me Harry, not ‘H’. Is it because you’re mad at me?”

“No,” she sighed, shifting to sit more casually, “No, I’m not mad at you. I just wasn’t expecting you to show up at my door like this. I try not to worry about you, but then when you show up like this, it kind of affirms I had reason to be concerned.”

She took a hand and smoothed over Harry’s tousled hair, he rolled his head back to face the ceiling. “Like I said, you’re an adult, capable of making his own decisions. And, I am just your stylist. I’m just glad you made it up here and knocked on my door. Probably would have given someone else a fright.”

He laughed, starting to sober up as the spinning in the room stopped. Her hands on his face and hair were soothing and sobering.

“Thank you for caring about me, love. And going beyond being just my stylist, you’re my friend Y/N.”

His eyes flickered shut and Y/N stared at his soothed features. His words were still slurred and she was sure the use of love was just his britishness slipping through his drunken state. The part about being more than a stylist, she tried to push it away, telling herself not to read more into it than her heart would like to. Even though he said she was a friend as well as a stylist and not anything more, it still sent so much joy through her body. He didn’t just see her as a work colleague and he had said it. But in his inebriated state, Y/N didn’t want to take everything he said as gospel.

She moved him up the bed with a little bit of his sleepy self’s help into a more comfortable position. It was pretty late now and she wasn’t going to kick him out. It would have been rude and unkind and that were two things Y/N rarely was. She went and grabbed the extra blanket from the cabinet and draped it over Harry’s large body for extra warmth since he refused to get under the covers. She also slipped off his boots and stained shirt per his request before getting into the other side of the bed and falling asleep.

She awoke to a shifting body beside her and she sat up confused as to who it could be. Quickly, Harry showing up drunk at her door came flooding back and she turned to look at the groaning Harry beside her. His arm was thrown over his face as he moaned, just waking up as well and experiencing the first bits of his hangover. This was going to be a long day.

“Hullo,” his voice was especially low, groggy and hoarse from the night before. He peaked over at her from behind the crook of his elbow. His eyelids barely open and his eyelashes weighing them down so much so that she could barely see his sleepy jade eyes.

“Good morning, H. Have a nice rest?” Y/N sat up and began to ready herself for the day, rummaging through her suitcase for an outfit and moving about the room.

Harry’s arms went to his sides as he worked to sit up, eyes following her figure as she moved around, seemingly not groggy very much unlike him. “Erm...I’m sorry for showing up pissed.”

“S’fine, H. Just glad you didn’t end up in a ditch or someone’s bed - someone’s that you might regret…” She barely regards him, throwing a single glance his way before shuffling to the bathroom to change. She knows they’ll be photographed today, it’s almost inevitable right now. Everyone knows Harry is in New York and people are buzzing to see him after his performance last night. She slips on the 70s inspired dress, the v-neck and long sleeves settling perfectly on her frame, it hugs her curves and lands around mid-thigh. Rolling on the bold mustard yellow tights and strapping up the brown leather mary jane heels, she looks herself over in the mirror. She then tries to tame her hair and do the rest of her routine, knowing she needed to get on with the day, shopping first and flying home second. Making sure Harry was okay was also on that list, but she couldn’t pretend like she wasn’t a little disappointed in him after last night.

When she returns, Harry is sitting with his legs hanging off the edge of the bed, head hanging as he’s hunched over himself. “C’mon, you gotta get going, kid. Lots to do today.” She’s pacing over to Harry’s deflated figure to pick him up and prompt him to get moving. When she arrives by his side his head lifts and his now more awake eyes stare up at her.

“I’m sorry for yesterday, really. I mean it.”

“I told you already. It’s fine.”

“It’s not - or it wasn’t. You called me ‘Harry’ last night. I don’t think I’ve heard you call me that to my face since we started working together. I took your answer last night because I was swimming in it, but now, thinking about it. I know you were upset.”

She huffs, taking a seat beside Harry on the bed, choosing to not look at him, slightly confused why she had been so upset and why he was pushing it. “Ok, yeah I was annoyed, but I was also genuinely worried. I didn’t know you could physically get that drunk in that small amount of time. And then you show up at my door with somebody else’s…” Y/N falters, catching her slip up and deciding to fix her gaze on her shoes and their intricate design built into the leather.

“You’re upset that I had lipstick on me?” He’s trying to meet Y/N’s gaze, but her eyes are really interested in her shoes. His tone is confused, he’s trying to understand what’s going on in her mind.

She scoffs, risking a glance to Harry but then returns quickly back to her dress this time. “Please...it was just inconvenient for me, okay? Thought we were going to debrief and stayed up late for you. Then I had to take care of you after you hung out with your famous pals and I had barely even seen you all day. Felt a bit used.”

Harry shifted in the bed, turning to face her by tucking one leg beneath him. He places a hand on hers that was placed on the end of her dress. Her eyes finally meet with his and she feels her breath slightly catch in her throat. His eyes are piercing, his gaze intense, maybe even a tinge of anger. “Y/N, I would never have come to your room if I even had an inkling that this would be how you’d interpret it . Even though I was drunk, I wanted to see you, that’s why I came up here, because I wanted to be with my friend, one of my best friends, not because I just needed some pushover to care for me.”

She sighs, feeling icky still about the whole situation. She sometimes found herself in fights that she never intended, she wished she hadn’t said anything at all. But she also knew that wasn’t healthy either. Flipping her hand, she intertwines her fingers with Harry’s and smiles for the first time that morning. His expression softens at it. “Look, I’m sorry too, H. It honestly wasn’t that big of a deal, but I appreciate that you’re such a great guy and boss to want to truly apologize and make sure I’m comfortable and happy… Oh, and I promise I’ll never call you anything but H from here on out - unless you tell me otherwise.”

He cackles unabashedly at her words, before suddenly clutching at his temple with his free hand. “Fuckin’ hangover,” he mumbles. She smiles and stands up, beginning to throw his shirt and shoes from the end of the bed at him, “You need to get ready. Go pop some advil or whatever. My flights at 5 so we haven’t got all day, H.”

“There she is,” Harry grins, beginning to put back on the stained ‘Sex’ shirt.

As he hustles out of the room, shoes in hand, she calls to him one last request, “When you’re in fresh clothes make sure you bring me that stained shirt. Gonna have to spot clean it when I’m back in London!”

“Of course! And we’ll debrief as we shop, yeah?”

“Yes!”

The two of them were shouting to each other as the door continued to close on them. Chuckling to herself, she begins to pack up her room, knowing she had to check out before they left. Her spirits already lifted, she doesn’t even notice as she throws Harry’s forgotten Bode jacket into her suitcase with some other items that had been on her chair. She wouldn’t notice it until she was back in London unpacking from the trip.

Shutting the case, she springs back up from her crouched position and walks to look in the full length mirror again. Her fingers run the length of her dress, leafing over the slightly darker brown embroidered flowers that were woven into the tan fabric. She squints as she turns sideways and pops a heel up behind her. It looks good, but something is missing. Rummaging through her carry-on she pulls out her old butterfly bandana she used as a head scarf and begins to fix it into place on her head. Placing large sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, she feels like the look is complete and gives herself some poses in the mirror; a peace sign, an air kiss, a Marilyn Monroe. She laughs at herself.

A knock on the door shakes her from her childish fun. Straightening up, Y/N saunters over to the door, swinging it open with ease. “H?”

“You ready?” Harry stands in a fresh pair of Marni trousers paired with a striped orange and mauve Marni sweater. He, like Y/N, had this thing about wearing the brand you planned to shop at. He didn’t always stick to his rule, but he usually didn’t like to wear Gucci when he shopped at Gucci.

“Yeah, just need to check out and drop my baggage at the front to be held for later.” Y/N slips through the door and notes how his outfit compliments hers. She wouldn’t mention it, but it's something to think about since he had known what she was wearing. She wasn’t sure why she noticed things like that, if asked, her answer would probably be that it was the stylist in her, just her job.

Stepping out of a black town car on the side street next to Gucci to go in the side entrance would never get old for Y/N. She had never really enjoyed the idea of fame, but from a young age she had known she wanted to be able to afford the finer things in life. Going into the Gucci store now, especially with Harry, was like going to the candy store once you’re a grown up and can buy whatever you want rather than what your parents will allow you to.

Today, Harry and Y/N didn’t have as much time as they would usually like to spend in the store, but they were just happy to be doing what they loved. Y/N had been ecstatic to find out Harry found shopping to be an essential part of his life and that he liked to do his outfit shopping in person rather than online. Trying on clothes and picking out things you liked just was so much more fulfilling when you were in the physical store. Then make that all happen with Harry Styles as the buyer, then it was a real party. The stores liked to pull out their Champagne and clear the store to allow him privacy, specifically when it was for clothes for projects under wraps. In the beginning of her employment, it was only ever Harry who would do the trying on of clothes, but as the two of them got acquainted and comfortable with each other, she found herself trying things Harry would pick out for her. At first, she would veto some items saying they were too expensive for her, but eventually she learned that her new salary covered whatever it was. She had always enjoyed designer labels and choosing to be a stylist meant she had nice clothes, but only working for Harry had caused her closet to double in size and triple in value.

“So we are looking for some trousers today,” she tells the worker at the store, reminding them of what she had already called ahead about. The employee nods and proceeds to lead them into the room where they had laid out an assortment of pants for Harry to pick from.

“What do you think of these?” Harry walks out and strikes a pose, popping one of his hips to the side and his hands on his hips. The pants strain around his thighs, but fit practically perfectly everywhere else. His slim waist is perfectly encircled by the fabric and he’s decided the sweater he was wearing didn’t match them and he’d rather go shirtless. This choice technically should allow her to solely focus on the pants, but it actually makes her focus that much more diverted. She makes a spinning motion with her pointer finger as she purses her lips. He takes a quick spin and the boot cut slightly flares with his movement. The pants are a dark brown with a single plaid crossing in a lighter brown. They are only lightly flared, which she prefered to the extreme flare that some of Harry’s suits had. She narrows her eyes at the pants to keep her gaze from shifting to the taut muscles of Harry’s arms and torso or the dark ink that licked over his skin in the beautiful designs of his choice.

“They’re nice,” she pulls up a picture of the top part of the outfit he was planning on wearing, “Do you think they match with this though?” Harry walks over to her seated position and bends to look at her phone. His skin radiates heat and the smell of his cologne and she sniffles slightly with her sensitive nose. His eyes flicker to her face when he notices her little noise, but returns to looking at the phone when she doesn’t spare him a glance. She felt his gaze on her, but couldn’t bring herself to look from the phone. She knew his proximity would make it even harder for her to keep her eyes off his naked torso. The expensive smell of Harry mixed with the expensive smell of the store was a lot to handle.

“Yeah...no. You think they’re not right,” she widens her eyes at Harry’s words when he pulls away. He turns to the mirror in the open dressing room and fiddles with the waistline of the pants. “I agree,” he finishes before stalking back into the room and shutting the heavy velvet curtain that worked as the door to it.

He tries on five more pairs of trousers and finally settles on two pairs for the two different listening parties. A heavier, wool-tweed pair that was dark brown and then a lighter brown tweed pair. He was still in the lighter pants as he stared into the mirror. He beckoned to Y/N, and she quickly set down the flute of Champagne she had been sipping at lazily as he admired himself.

“Is it possible for you to take it in a bit more,” he says in a hushed tone to her, not wanting the workers to overhear. They were helpful but if they overheard they would wait for the store to tailor the trousers and he preferred for Y/N to do it. He rubs at the waistline again and she moves closer, her hands going to his sides. Her fingertips graze the naked skin above the trousers and Harry shivers at the coldness of the new touch. She ghosts softly over the waistline herself and smooths the fabric until she’s pinching a small amount on each side. She hums, pulling back from Harry and looking at the fit of them now, examining whether that makes them look better.

Then she nods and smiles up at Harry, “Ever the slender waist,” he grins right back as she admires him. She knew how much he liked praise and she was happy to give it to him, especially when he was so deserving. “I’d say size down, but then your thighs and bum might strain the fabric too much.” His face turns to a smirk as she blushes at her words. She releases the fabric and takes a hand to pat Harry’s smooth chest before walking back to her seat on the lovely couch.

“You sure you don’t want to try anything on, Y/N? Saw some killer boots when we walked in that screamed you.” Harry calls from behind the curtain, presumably getting redressed. Her laugh comes through the curtain slightly muffled, yet still a sweet melody in Harry’s ears.

“Definitely not now, we’re leaving any minute. Plus, I’ve got plenty of Gucci boots, don’t even show me them or I’ll be tempted.”

His laughter rings through the curtains, loud and unrestrained. She smiles to herself, unable to discourage the pleasure that weaves through her at the sound. His presence in all the different ways she experienced it was instantly comforting.

When she arrives back to her London flat, she practically flops on her couch once she’s inside the door. Her luggage forgotten at the door, as she shrugs off her coat. It was around 7 am because she had chosen to take the red eye for some reason. She groaned as she thought about the day ahead of her. Even though Harry was halfway across the globe, she still had plenty of work to do. She had to finalize the outfits for the listening parties now that they had the pants to complete the looks. Then she had to start thinking about Harry’s December appearances. She had sent ahead his Late Late outfits that he had needed in Los Angeles for the pre-filming, but she still had to deal with the outfits for the live part of the show.

Today, she was set to go pick up the other pieces needed for the listening parties as well as items for the Graham Norton Show and Jingle Ball. She was most excited for her travels because that meant looking at brand new clothes that were perfect and gorgeous. She also knew she needed to spot clean Harry’s shirt, which didn’t spark as much joy in her tired mind.

The idea of the shirt staining with alcohol was what brought her out of her snuggling with her comfy couch. Sure, it couldn’t get that bad, but still she was a worrier and it would pain her if the iconic shirt got ruined. She padded back over to her luggage, now without her jacket or shoes. Her major suitcase got flipped on its side and she began to unzip it. It came open easily seeing as it was stuffed with her clothes and various items. She had to rummage a minute for Harry’s shirt that seemed to have run away inside the bag. Finally, the large white shirt made itself known and she grasped it happily.

As she looked over the stain near the collar of the shirt, her eyes traveled to a piece of fabric peeking out of her suitcase. It was a familiar blue, cream and white. A specific fabric she would never misplace, would never not recognize. Harry’s plaid Bode jacket. It was iconic and she loved it, but why did she have it in her suitcase. She definitely didn’t mean to have it, it’s genuinely just one of Harry’s jackets so it wouldn’t make sense for her to bring it back with the show's wardrobe. She tries to think back to yesterday, when she was still in New York. Thinking about why she would have it, she places the memories of Harry coming to her room, taking off his coat, and accidentally leaving it in her room all fit together. She must have just absentmindedly placed it in her suitcase without even realizing. She’s sure Harry wouldn’t mind, she’d shoot him a text, though, to tell him she had it. So he wouldn’t worry about whether he’d lost it or not.

When she gets ready for the day, she finds herself being drawn to blue and cream. Her outfit is understated and she just knows the jacket would finish the look. She loved that jacket and now that she had it, would it be a big deal if she wore it out. She figured it was fine. After she grabbed her purse, keys, and other essentials, she slipped on the coat. Harry was very broad shouldered and it hung oversized on her. She loved the look and snapped a selfie in the mirror before she headed out. While it felt a little narcissistic to constantly take photos of herself, she felt like as a stylist it was important to document her looks just as much as she documented her clients.

What she didn’t think about is just how much the rest of the world liked to document her client and those who were seen with her client. She didn’t think about how she had just been seen with Harry yesterday. That thought didn’t even cross her mind as she walked around the streets of London picking up her work. As she saw some photographers out and about (whom she assumed were for famous celebrities, not her). How it might seem with her wearing the Bode jacket Harry had worn on SNL two nights ago. The Bode jacket that there were only two of.

None of it crossed her mind. Not until it was the end of the day and she had a whole slew of texts from Harry’s manager. A few from Harry, and others but the other fifteen were solely from Jeff. She was a bad texter so as she walked into her flat and finally looked at her phone after putting down all of her garment bags her eyes went wide.

Please tell me you’re not out in London right now!

What are you wearing??

That cannot be Harry’s jacket Y/N

Seriously?

Please call me.

CALL ME. NOW.

- All from Jeff.

She grimaced. The others from her friends including Harry would have to be ignored right now. Even if Harry was her boss, Jeff was who she had to deal with when it came to public appearances and it didn’t seem like she could get around this one. Normally, she never had to deal with him, but it seems today wasn’t normal.

part 2

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witchyweasley · 3 years

Text

Unfinished Business ~ Ron Weasley

Pairing: gamer! gamer!Ron Weasley x fem!Reader

Summary: Ron has been gaming with his friends for too long, so you take matters into your own hands.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: smut, 18+ themes, exhibition (?), oral,

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

“Ron you’ve been playing for hours, I thought you said you’d be done in 20 minutes?” I sighed, flipping over on the bed behind his gaming set up. The dual screens flashed different things, one being a chat room, the other was the game.

“I will, we just have to do this before we can get off,” Ron said, not taking his eyes away from the screen.

“That was 2 hours ago, I thought we’d spend some time together tonight since it’s the first night off I’ve had in ages,” I whined. The lace set I had slipped on after my shower to surprise Ron with was now itchy and uncomfortable, these things aren’t meant to be worn this long.

“Just a minute babe,” he said, his eyes still glued to the screens in front of him. I decided to try something after another 10 minutes of keyboard clicking and him talking to the boys over headset.

Making sure his camera was off, I quietly stripped out of the sleep set I had on, finally revealing the lacy set. I threw my shorts over at Ron, landing right on his shoulder.

“What the-, oh bloody hell,” he said as he turned around and saw me in his favorite set.

“Hey,” I said, walking over to him. I heard him mute his mic quickly.

“How long have you been wearing that…” he asked, his eyes fixed on my hips as they swayed.

“Long enough, but go ahead and play your game, I know you promised them you’d finish this game,” I said, kneeling down in front of him.

“What are you- oh fuck,” he moaned out as my hands palmed his erection through his pants.

“Go ahead and keep playing. I can hear them asking you where you are,” I winked as I released his dick from the confines of his pants, pumping it slowly and feeling him get even harder.

“Hey guys, sorry about that. I uhhh, I just had to get some water.” He said as he unmuted himself, watching me in disbelief as I licked up his length before swirling my tongue around his tip, collecting any pre-cum.

He let out a low groan as I took as much of him in my mouth as I could, but quickly covered it up with a cough when he remembered his friends could hear him.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just a tickle in my throat, haha,” he rushed out in response to the boy’s questions.

I bobbed my head and hollowed my cheeks as I took more of his length in my mouth, swirling my tongue on the tip as I reached the top. His hand pushed my hair into a makeshift ponytail, lightly pulling on my hair the way I like.

I looked up at him and found his head dropped back and mouth open as he tried to hold back his moans. Right as he started to buck his hips up, I released him from my mouth and sat back on my heels.

“How’s the game going babe?” I smirked, pumping his length in my hand as I look up at him.

“...tell her we say hi!” I heard Harry say over headset.

“Actually, why don’t you tell her yourself. Here you go babe, the boys want to talk to you,” Ron smirked, pulling the headset off and placing it on me.

“Hey…” I said slowly, confused at the smirk on Ron’s face. Ron stood me up and swiftly switched so that I was in the chair and he was kneeling on the ground.

“Hey! How have you been?” Harry responded.

“I’ve been...great!” I breathed out as Ron’s hands slid up and pushed my legs up so they would rest on the arms of the chair. My breathing hitched as his thumb brushed over my clothed clit, rubbing agonizingly slow circles.

“How’s work? I heard you’ve been pretty busy lately,” Dean asked me.

“Oh um, yeah! Quidditch season is always busy at the hospital…” I said quickly, trying not to moan as Ron’s finger pushed the lingerie aside so he could swipe his tongue through my folds.

“Are you okay? It sounds like you’re out of breath?” Neville asked, sounding a bit worried. I bit my lip and let out a sigh as Ron swirled his tongue around my clit.

“Yeah! Yeah! I um…. I just got done working out,” I lied, bucking my hips up as Ron continued lapping up my juices.

“I didn’t know you worked out! Do you want a gym buddy? Ginny keeps trying to recruit me for it, but I don’t think I can handle that,” Harry laughed.

“That’s...that’s a good idea, but- I only just started and I think she would kick my ass,” I stumbled as Ron sat back and used his thumb to circle over my clit, smirking when I stumbled on a word.

After swiping his tongue through my pussy for a final time, Ron held my hands and pulled me up, holding me tight as his lips attached to my neck. If it weren’t for the tight grip on my waist, I’d be a puddle on the floor right now. He flipped me around so that I was facing the monitor and his back was pressed up against mine.

“Hey boys, do you mind if she plays a round while I go grab a snack really quick?” Ron said into the mic of the headset.

“Sure! You know what you’re doing, right?” Dean asked me.

“Uh, yeah… I’ve watched Ron play it enough, I think I can figure it out,” I said, a bit confused as to what Ron’s plan was.

As the next round started, he pressed his hand to the middle of my shoulder blades and pushed me down so that I was bent over in front of the desk. His hands smacked my ass lightly a couple times before he pulled the lingerie aside again and swiped the head of his cock through.

“Oh fuck,” I said quietly as he slowly pushed into me, filling me inch by inch.

“You alright?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, I-uh, I just fell off something, that’s all,” I said.

“I hate when I do that, it’s the worst,” Neville chimed in.

I stumbled through the game as I tried to focus on something other than the way Ron’s cock was stretching me out right now. His pace was slow and steady, fully taking himself out before slowly sheathing himself back into me.

“Hmmm, is there any way to go faster?” I asked the boys, but hoping that Ron caught onto my message.

“If you press the CTRL key, you should run faster,” Harry said. I barely heard him though because Ron thankfully did catch on. He pounded into me at a much better pace, causing my tits to bounce out of the low-cut lingerie and my breathing to pick back up again. His hand snaked around to toy with one of my nipples as his other one guided my hips back onto him. It took everything in me not to scream with pleasure as he hit all the right spots.

I accidentally let out a loud whine as I came on Ron’s cock, causing the boys to ask questions.

“I died,” I quickly said to cover up the noise.

“You lasted longer than I did, I died a while ago,” Dean said.

Ron was panting as he continued pounding me, trying not to make too much noise. It wasn’t long before me pulled out and finished on the small of my back. He pressed a couple kisses to my back before heading to our bathroom to grab a towel.

“Not that we don’t love playing with you, but is Ron back yet? I feel like this is the longest he’s taken to get a snack,” Harry said once the round was over.

“Ah-ha, here he is! Thanks for letting me play you guys, I’ll let you all talk to Ron,” I said as Ron came in with a towel. He cleaned me up as the boys said their Chorus of goodbye’s before I put the headset back on him.

Ron immediately muted the mic and pressed a hot kiss to my lips, “That was quite possibly the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, holy fuck.”

“Oh you’re not off the hook yet. We have some lost time to make up from earlier,” I smirked before pressing a kiss to his lips and crawling onto our bed.

“Hey guys, so it looks like I’ve gotta head off here. There’s some, um, unfinished business that I need to take care of,” Ron said before logging off and pouncing on top of me, attacking me with kisses and love.

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

Tag list: If you want to be added just shoot me a message!

@a-malfoy @amityyyjade @amourtentiaa @dracos-apple01 @georgeswh0re @lim-bus @partr1dge @weasleywhore07 @willowestelle

#harry potter smut #smut #hp smut #weasley smut #ron weasley x y/n #ron weasley x reader smut #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley smut #gamer ron weasley #gamer!ron weasley

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cap10froggerguy · 3 years

Text

Tenth Anniversary recap

So, as my little celebration of the Ninjago 10 Year Anniversary, here’s a little recap of every single season, including the pilots and a few bonuses. I also added totally arbitrary scoring based on my own preferences. Ready? Here we go!

The Pilots:

Local man joins gang to save sister, gains awesome powers and dragons along the way. Featuring the Wise Old Mentor(C) and Generic Evil Overlord(C), as well as FIYAH, the main character with a firey temper, AT-AT, blue guy with motor mouth, Frosty, local “real boy” who is super aloof, and Bucket of Rocks, who is the “leader” and has a personality like a rock. Is that a compliment? You decide!

Choppy animation and okay storytelling, but excellent characterization creates a surefire laugh fest!

0/0, they were trying their hardest, so no ranking for you.

Season 1: Rise of the Snakes

Ninja team angers young and bratty boy, who unleashes snake army. Prophecy threatens to tear the team apart at the seams with contests to prove who is better. Winner ends up being FIYAH’s sister, but instead of becoming The Chosen One(C), young and bratty boy (henceforth known as Green Angst) gets the title.

Animation is slightly better, and the storytelling style leads to an okay season.

3/13, Room for improvement.

Season 2: Legacy of the Green Ninja

Green Angst gains superpowers, ages up, and beats up his dad, who has become possessed with evil. Plot of Return of the Jedi ensues, dad is good, and everything wraps up.

Thinking this was going to be the last season, the showrunners pulled out all the stops, and it shows. Good job!

5/13, This makes a good ending.

SIKE

Season 3: Rebooted

Series tries to pick up where they left off. Unnecessary love triangles and robot battles ensue. Frosty dies, totally for realsies.

The whole atmosphere feels a bit rushed, and about half of the story is there for unneeded drama.

1/13, did not age well.

Season 4: Tournament of Elements

In stunning turn of events, Frosty is not dead. Ninja must battle in hunger games in order for Colonel Sanders to release him. FIYAH develops a crush on his daughter.

A fun season with quippy writing and tons of lore, it works really well!

8/13, this season ages wonderfully.

Season 5: Possession

Ghosts are a thing now! Green Angst gets possessed, and so the ninja must learn ghost fighting to fight ghosts. Also, FIYAH’s sister (From now on called Water Girl) gains water powers.

While a neat story concept, the fact that Water Girl has only NOW been told about her powers kinda starts to weaken the story for me.

4/13, could do better.

...

Oh, and Bucket of Rocks is a ghost now. But the writers don’t care, so lets move on.

Season 6: Skybound

AT-AT gets a season, where he had to battle a genie pirate while Water Girl tries to be a Strong Independent Woman(C) despite the love triangle fiasco. Season ends up retconning itself out of existence.

While a good season pre-redesign, some of the story choices cause it to feel a bit drawn out in hindsight.

6/13, a fun season concept.

Day of the Departed:

Bucket of Rocks cant catch enough of a break to get a season, gets Halloween-ish special instead. In it, he becomes No Longer A Ghost. Hooray for... writing?

There’s not much to say about this one, it is what it is, and for a while, this was the only content we got centered around good ol Bucket of Rocks.

0/0, a ranking of this one wouldn’t be fair.

Season 7: Hands of Time

Angst! Drama! Time Travel! Technology jokes! Old Mentor is dying from Too Many Secrets, so Green Angst must lead team. FIYAH and Water Girl find their parents. I bet that’ll be important later!

The story feels choppy, and leaves a lot of threads hanging. It’s still fun, but less so that what came before and what comes after.

2/13: Guys, you had one job.

Season 8: Sons of Garmadon

The ninja get a facelift, and Green Angst gets a girlfriend! Guess which one is permanent. Evil Ex summons Evil Overlord(C) 2.0, causing Green Angst to loose Green and gain Angst.

The animation bump is stellar, the new voice actor for Green Angst really shines, and the story, while not new by any stretch, is filled with plenty of twists and turns.

9/13, Stellar Season.

Season 9: Hunted

The OG 4 in Mad Max on one hand, while Green Angst and Water Girl resist against tyrannical overbearing ruler on the other. Now with even more daddy issues, inspiring speeches, and of course, ANGST.

The storytelling and atmosphere increases in quality, and the show does a good job of balancing angst and hope. Also, then end is really cool.

12/13, Great Atmosphere.

Season 10/March of the Oni

Everyone teams up to stop faceless CGI army! Wait, does that count if everything is CGI?

There’s not much to say on this one either. It feels both too short and too fast, and many of the story beats don’t hit like they should.

(6 1/2) / 13, Pretty OK.

Season 11 pt 1: The Fire Chapter

Local team gets lazy, unleashes witch, FIYAH looses fire, Frosty dies again. OR DOES HE!?

Even better animation, and the voice actors are really having fun for this season onwards. It’s one of the weakest of the newer seasons, but the shorter episode time helps every episode pack a punch.\

7/13, Would recommend as a starter season.

Season 11 pt 2: The Ice Chapter

Frosty becomes Frostbite and commits genocide. Is redeemed by power of friendship and amnesia. Let’s move on.

Character development, great moments, and thought provoking storytelling!? This season has all that AND a good grasp on the aesthetic!

10/13, Please forgive Frosty. He didn’t mean it.

Season 12: Prime Empire

AT-AT gets his own season again, enacts plot of Tron Legacy, but better! Also, Frosty becomes a detective.

The obligitory videogame plot is done really well. Lots of fun is poked at videogame mechanics and it makes for a quippy and fast paced season. Just like AT-AT!

11/13, videogame movie(?) done right.

Season 13: Master of the Mountain

Bucket of Rocks finally gains own season, proves that he is the best character. Gains a best friend and beats her dad in combat.

Beautiful set pieces, awesome character development, lore, jokes, and heartfelt moments, I consider this to be the single best season of the newer ones, and possibly even the whole show.

13/13, amazing season

BONUS!

The Lego Ninjago movie:

Kung Fu High School AU with a dash of Star Wars. Different from the series? Sure. Super fun? Absolutely!

8 out of 10 Meowthras.

Wu’s Teas:

Wise Old Mentor(C) opens teashop. Shenanigans ensue.

10 out of 10, if you don’t laugh at at least one, something is wrong.

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finnyboywolfhard · 3 years

Text

Kiss It, Make It Better

Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

summary: Y/N craves smoking with someone new, so who better than Steve Harrington.

A/N: this is based solely on the ‘it’s only marijuana’ line in season three bc i am in love with stoner!Steve

warnings: drugs <3, cursing, fluff

word count: 2.4k

Y/N and Dustin had the routine since Y/N got her license, that once a month they would have a sibling drive, in which they would drive around with the sole intent of getting caught up with one another. Given all the shit they had been through over the past few years, it naturally became their own special form of therapy. The Events of Starcourt on the Fourth of July and the days prior were once again weighing heavily on the two during their first drive since.

“What was it like being drugged?” Dustin asked, his curiosity weaving its way into his voice.

“Weird. It kinda felt like everything was the best thing ever, but it also came at the worst time. It was also weird that it was with Steve Harrington and Robin.”

“Is it like weed?”

“Is it like what?” Y/N knew the answer, it was no, but she had no idea why her little brother was deciding to ask her that in that exact moment.

“When you guys were drugged, I kept asking Steve if he did drugs, and he said that he only did marijuana. I wanted to know if they were comparable. So, is it like weed?”

“First off Dusty, you don’t ‘do’ marijuana, you smoke it. And secondly, I’m not answering that question, you can save that query for Steve.” Steve. Y/N had a lot of thoughts about him, it was interesting to hear about him from the rumors in high school in comparison to how she saw him act regularly. And ever since she started smoking to calm herself down, she has craved smoking with someone other than Robin, maybe Steve was worth a shot.

“Speaking of Steve, he said he might be over a lot over the next few nights while his parents are away, just so you know.”

“Oh? Is he coming tonight?”

“No, not tonight. He isn’t off work till 9 and mom doesn’t want him coming an hour before my dumbass bedtime— I still don’t get why she just NOW gave me a bedtime while you don’t even have a curfew.” Her brother started rambling, but all she could pay attention to was that he was going to be home alone tonight. Would it be that crazy of her to show up after all the trauma they had been through over the past 3 years?

“It’s because I’m legally an adult, so she’s treating me as such, and you’re just going into high school, she wants you to be safe. But okay, guess we’ll just have to see him soon.” The two drove around for a while longer before returning home. As the hours in between past, Y/N glanced towards her bookshelf, in which held a hidden stash of weed. She could always tell her mom she was just going to Robin’s, she would never try to prevent Y/N from seeing Robin.

She walked toward the bookshelf with soft footing, and with a gentle touch she plucked the hard covered book from the shelf. Inside lay two pre rolled joints she bought from her dealer and some bud Murray had snuck her after Hopper’s memorial. She snapped the book closed and tossed the book gently onto her bed. She put on a zip up hoodie and packed a fake sleepover bag. The books spine crackled gently as the cover was opened just enough for her to grab the pre-rolls out and into her pocket.

With backpack slung over her shoulders and her hands tucked securely in her pockets, Y/N strolled casually into the living room where her mother sat, as the minutes ticked quicker and quicker past 9:30–he was definitely home by now.

“Hey mom! Inhope you don’t mind but I’m gonna head over to Robin’s.”

“Oh! Did she call? I didn’t even hear the phone!”

“Oh no! She didn’t!” Y/N let in a gulp, she didn’t think this through. “She asked me a few days ago to come over tonight if I wanted to, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go until a little bit ago.”

“Ah, sounds like you, Do you wanna call her before you head over?” Claudia stood from her seat and began moving and motioning towards the phone.

“No!’ Y/N shrieked at her mother, who turned confusedly towards her. “Her mom goes to bed early and I told her that if I was gonna come it would be between 9 and 10, she assumes I’m coming, but I do really gotta get going.” Y/N glanced nervously at the clock, it was getting later and later and there comes a time where it’s a little uncomfortable to show up. Claudia glanced to the clock as well.

“Okay Y/N/N, you better get going.”

“Bye mom—“

“—Drive safe, be careful, I love you.”

“I love you too mom.” Y/N said as she practically ran to her car. She turned her car on and began the drive towards his house, not even thinking twice about where she was going until the car came to a park in his driveway.

“Shit!” Y/N yelled at herself. She yelled at herself for being weird and for showing up unannounced. She calmed herself down by saying, “who wouldn’t want someone showing up with free weed? Don’t overthink it.” She pulled in a complete, deep breath and walked hesitantly to the door. Three knocks sounded off the door, her breath fluttering ever so slightly as she let her hand fall to her side. Footsteps could be heard from the opposite side of the door, stepping closer and closer by the second. The doorknob turned and Y/N’s attention snapped up to meet the gaze of the boy at large.

“Hey Y/N, what’re you doing here?” Steve asked delightfully surprised. Her hand reached inside her pocket to pull one of the two joints. She lifted it from her pockets to where he could see it.

“Got a light?” She asked with a smirk.

After finding a lighter, the two made their way to his backyard. They sat parallel to one another in their chaise chairs. Y/N flicked the lighter a few times before sparking up the first joint of the night. She pulled a large huff in and held it as she passed the joint to Steve. He took in a long drag, holding the joint in front of him to inspect it after he hit it. A few seconds after Y/N had released her hit, Steve started coughing a bunch.

“Jesus Y/N, where the hell did you get this?” Steve said through the gasps for air.

“Good shit, huh?” Y/N joked as she inhaled another hit. The two fell into a rhythm of passing it back and forth as conversation allowed itself to flood the air.

“So what made you come here Y/N?” Steve pondered towards the girl.

“Dusty started asking me about when we were drugged, and apparently you told him you smoked weed. And, as much as I love Robin, I need someone new to smoke with, and you’re not AWFUL to hang out with.” Y/N explained, with sarcasm dripping from the last sentence.

“Wow, I feel so touched. Truly, I feel like the luckiest man alive. THE Y/N Henderson chose ME to smoke with. Best day of my life.” Steve rambled on, matching the sarcastic tone Y/N started with. The two laughed for a bit together, before Y/N spoke through the giggles.

“I am sorry for just showing up, I just didn’t know how to ask.”

“What? Am I that scary?”

“You’re THE King Steve, you’re the coolest, hottest guy at Hawkins. I was so intimidated by your male wiles. I am begging at your feet Steve Harrington.” Y/N mocked other girls she had witnessed in Hawkins. “No you’re not scary, I just couldn’t bring myself to say ‘Hey Steve, want to do some drugs with me?’ on our family phone, it didn’t feel right.” Steve let out a chuckle and a ‘fair enough’. It fell silent for a moment as the joint had its final hits taken from it.

“Why haven’t we hung out before? I mean away from all the traumatizing shit.” Steve asked slowly as he let himself sink down into the chair.

“Different friend groups before it all and then after and during it all, I didn’t and don’t want to impede on you and Dustin’s time. Plus neither of us have asked each other anyway.”

“That’s not true, I invited you to the movies that one day you stopped into scoops alone.”

“Yeah after I had already told you I was babysitting that night, you didn’t even ask to reschedule.”

“Yes I absolutely—didn’t. I didn’t.” Steve said, confidence dissipating. Y/N couldn’t help but focus to each small feature of his face one by one. Sure, she had looked at him but she never looked at him. He really was beautiful.

Jokes and stories were told between the two, laughter and exaggerated stories filled the bubble they put themselves in. In those moments, there was no one else in the world but Steve and Y/N.

“And that’s how Mike Wheeler broke his finger in our backyard.” Y/N let out through a fit of giggles. Steve clutched his stomach as he let himself fall back into the chair from the gut busting laughter Y/N had sent him into. As he got more comfortable, he glanced down at his watch. His eyes bulged at the time.

“Holy shit.” He said flustered, eyes never leaving the watch face.

“What? What time is it?”

“It’s almost 2 A.M.”

“Oh damn…” Y/N said, a dangerously fun smile finding its way to her face. Her hand reached towards the second joint in her pocket. “So this would be of no interest to you?” Steve’s squinted eyes opened just a peep. He let out a long whine.

“I think I’m too high to even move…but that looks so good.” Y/N looked between him and the joint. She noticed space for her to sit on the edge of his chair, and placed herself there. She placed the joint between her lips and gave it a light, waiting for the rolling paper burn down to the weed. From between her lips, she pulled the joint between her fingers and held it gently up to his. He took in a pull, never once releasing eye contact. With each consecutive hit, the distance between them drew closer and closer, eventually leaving their faces merely inches apart. Her fingers were so far back on the joint, they grazed his lips as he took in one of the final hits. Her fingers tingled from his touch. She glanced towards his eyes, his meeting hers already. The air around them went still and quiet. Their eyes were locked on each other, contact never wavering as their bodies moved towards one another like a magnet. His eyes stayed put on hers as his voice fell in the air.

“Give me one more.” Her hand lifted lightly and placed itself at his lips once more. The joint glowed a bright red as he inhaled the smoke. Y/N was so enraptured by his beauty, she didn’t notice the joint burning down to a nub. She watched as a cloud of smoke was blown from his lips and into the sky, before the heat had finally reached her touch.

“Son of a bitch!” She exclaimed as she dropped the roach to the ground. She lifted her fingers to her mouth, attempting to ease the burning feeling. The burn wasn’t bad, just a little redness but it didn’t hurt any less.

“Hey, let me see it.” Steve’s tone was much gentler now as he lifted her hand into his own. He raised her gently by her wrist to examine the burnt fingers. He delicately placed the burnt fingers to his lips and gave them a tiny little kiss.

“Kiss it, make it better.” He whispered, just barely audible to her ears. That’s what was so shocking about Steve, his heart was so filled with love and care. He did his best to make everyone feel protected, even if his popular guy persona overshadowed it at times.

“How are you so perfect?” Her voice came out quietly. Slowly, he lifted his head to look at her once more and without much thought, he closed the distance. The kiss was gentle and loving, but clearly stoked by passion. His lips upturned into a smile. She leaned back and traced her fingers across her lips. Just to make sure she didn’t imagine it, she pulled the boy towards her by the collar and planted one more kiss on him—and she noted that he kissed back with the same fervor.

“I have a crush on you Steve Harrington.” She said, hiding her blushing face from the boy. He turned her face towards him as he confessed,

“I’ve had a crush on you for like 3 months.”

“You have?”

“Yeah.” He said, his thumb gently grazing her cheek.

“Why?”

“Dustin talks about you enough, and I—uh I remembered all the times you’ve kicked ass over the past few years and it just kinda…happened. Who wouldn’t want someone as smart, badass, and beautiful as you?” He rambled our haphazardly, a blush forming across his cheeks as well.

“Steve…”

“Oh god, that was embarrassing, am I blushing? I feel like I’m blushing. fuck me.” Steve started rambling.

“Hey! It’s not embarrassing, it’s cute.” Y/N explained, but it didn’t seem to help. An idea flashed in her mind. “Oh no! You are so embarrassing, I am embarrassed. Ew, guess I

I’ll just have to close my eyes! I hope that embarrassing Steve Harrington doesn’t kiss me!” The sarcastic tone from earlier returning once more. A chuckle bubbled past Steve’s lips. He once more laid one on her, this time—a little bit more passionate than the past.

Y/N nuzzled herself into Steve’s side on the small beach chair they were on. The air sat comfortably still in that moment, the two reeling from the overwhelming emotions they had just felt. Quiet giggles pierce the air as Y/N studies her fingers.

“It worked.” She said matter of factly.

“What worked?”

“After you kissed it, I haven’t thought about it since. You made it better.” Y/N spoke melodically. Steve planted a kiss to the top of her head and pulled her closer in to him.

“Kiss it, make it better.” He repeated once more.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n

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howmanyepsofmlseason6areleft · 2 years

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The Comeback Post: What I missed!

Yo, what's GOOD everybody!

So again, i've said it before, but i'm really sorry for my absence! I was lucky the hiatus aligned with finals week because lemme tell you, that really, really messed me up :/. I needed a full week of recovery, but luckily I passed everything, Christmas was great, and, hopefully, I'm back... for real this time!

Before I start, i'd like to say that we finally have a date for the end of the hiatus! Check out this post for more info :)

Now, without further ado, here’s a list of some things I didn’t report on/happened since I left:

1. Plus Plus Ukraine, aka the channel that spoiled Chat Blanc and aired the finale prematurely last season lmao, has been releasing a ton of teasers/small clips for the finale, implying they have a mostly finished season finale in their hands.

2. More on Plus Plus, it was heavily rumored that they were supposed to air the Finale and Kuro Neko last week, but ultimately nothing came out of it. It was a strange situation indeed, as Chikara, a miraculous ambassador, actually got word from a trusted source of Kuro Neko’s airing last week, just for nothing to happen. Pretty shifty, ngl, and it absolutely was not Chikara's fault! Definitely a fault of the network and weird scheduling. And to top it all off, apparently they didn't even dub the episode until yesterday? Idk, the whole thing leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

3. Creds to Psycomedian Anon for this one, but Winny said on twitter that the only episodes the team are waiting to be finalized/ air are Psycomedian (ep 5), Penalteam (ep 24 ), and Qilin (ep 20), implying that Kuro Neko (ep 23) and the finale are already mostly ready for airing. He also specified that when these episodes do air, they will air in the order above (Psycomedian first, then Penalteam, then Qilin). As a result, there is a very, very real possibility, to the point where i’d say a 99.9% chance, that Kuro Neko will air before these episodes, seeing as it’s already finalized, and a lesser, but still high, chance the finale will air before these episodes as well, just like what happened last season with the finale airing before chat blanc and felix. The only way this wouldn't happen is if the broadcasters decide to respect the order which, let’s face it, they likely won’t, especially with plus plus involved.

Well... that was some disaster, huh? If there's anything else of note please let me know, but... yeah! Def a trainwreck and a half.

Honestly, at this point in the hiatus definitely seems to be destined to repeat season 3's history. If it does, then it's likely Kuro Neko will air, Plus Plus will do their classic "airing the finale out of order then dipping" move, and then we'll get the final 3 episodes to fill in the blanks. But hey, ya never know!

Anyhow, i'll be consistent with news now, and yeah! Stay tuned!

#wow that was a post and a half #sorry it was so long y'all #also i'd appreciate if y'all help say anything I missed/point out mistakes and such <#but I missed yall! glad to be back!#miraculous ladybug #ml #mlb #ml news #miraculous #ml episodes #miraculous: tales of ladybug and cat noir #ml season 4 #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #mine #news

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jonsa101 · 3 years

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Episode 3x14: A Reflection of How Max Stepped Into Love After A Season of Suffering

Gif credit @supagirl

Hey guys! I can’t believe the season finale has come and gone! I think my mind is just taking time to comprehend everything that has happened! Sharpwin is officially canon! As I’m typing this out, it feels strange writing a meta on the other side of things. Since season one, I’ve been writing metas about how these two belong together and making predictions about the trajectory of their relationship. Now, to be on the other side of things where I know longer have to do that because these two are finally together is kinda crazy. I feel so elated!

Now y’all, I’m not going to lie to you, I had a totally different meta planned out and that meta is still in my drafts. I will probably release it because it was a general review of the episode but I thought it was more important that I put this meta out first. When I was watching the finale live, I didn’t love it. I just didn’t. I loved that Max and Helen finally got together at the end of the episode but I had a major issue with how it unfolded. The issue my friends was this scene right here:

Baby!!! When I tell you this scene TRIGGERED me, it did! Now mind you, I wasn’t upset with Max’s storyline of searching and struggling to take off his wedding ring. It is human nature for Max to still have an emotional attachment to his ring. He’s not still grieving but essentially that ring is the only thing he has left of Georgia and represents a life he once had. Him taking it off was always going to be a monumental moment for Sharpwin and for himself. The issue that I had was Max casually telling Helen that he freaked out about losing his ring!!! To me, after the voicemail he left her, after Helen flew standby and was in a six hour flight to see him, it was an incredibly CALLOUS thing for Max to say. I know Max wasn’t thinking in this moment. I know his intentions were clearly not to hurt her but words matter and him being careless with his was a complete disregard of Helen’s feelings. She was deeply hurt and upset when he said this and rightfully so! I mean just look at her expression here:

Helen’s entire being read like

“I can’t believe you”

And girl same, because neither could I!! He knew he fucked up and he obviously made up for it in the end but y’all when I was watching it live, everything that came after that elevator scene was was tainted for me. I had a hard time believing that Helen would let what he said slide so easily and in the moment, I couldn’t appreciate the beauty of them finally coming together! 😩 In my personal opinion, there were so many other ways that scene could have played out without Max having to literally tell Helen to her face that he was worried about his wedding ring! I know they were trying to build up to the “big moment” where he finally takes his ring off and runs back to Helen’s apartment but man, that moment did not sit right with me in my spirit! It still doesn’t and I don’t think my opinion will ever change on this.

With that said, I’ve now done several rewatches of the finale where I specifically watched the scenes after that awful moment by the elevator. As I’ve had time to reflect, my perspective has changed. I no longer view the moments after the elevator scene as tainted but as something deeply profound and beautiful. Hell, even as I reflect on that scene by the elevator, I still don’t like it, but in a way I understand it in how it relates to Max’s overall journey when it comes to Helen. To me, Max Goodwin is a man who fell deeply in love with Helen in the midst of the most complex situations and a season of him suffering. It’s been deep rooted, complicated and messy from the start and over the past three years we’ve seen Max navigate through the complexities of his feelings for Helen and the circumstances he’s found himself in on our screens. I think when you look at season three finale and specifically the journey of Max finally making a choice to be with Helen, you have to put into context Max’s history and how it influenced what that looked like. So y’all that is exactly what I want to do in this meta so let’s dive in.

One thing I think we need to acknowledge is that, even though as an audience we have loved seeing Max and Helen’s journey unfold, the road has been so TOUGH for them. As Helen said in 3x13, it’s been a fight! Especially for Max. The suffering he has endured over the past three years has been unfathomable and much of his relationship with Helen and his feelings for her have been developed under these traumatic and tragic circumstances.

At the very beginning of the series, when Max and Helen first meet they clash but it doesn’t last for long. It’s his first day at New Amsterdam and as the new Medical Director, he wants her to stay at the hospital and treat patients instead of doing press tours. Helen on the other hand wants to continue doing press and for the most part ignores his demands for her to return to the hospital. When she finally does return, she does so because she learns that Max has cancer. This bonds them at the onset as Helen is the only person in his life that knows about his diagnosis. As an audience, when we first see them interact, we instantly saw the sparks fly between them. Their chemistry and natural witty banter made us immediately take a look at their relationship and what potential they could have in the future. Though we were shocked by his cancer diagnosis, I think the fun and lightheartedness of Sharpwin’s first interactions really masked how traumatic this must have been for Max. On the first day of his dream job, that he sacrificed his marriage for, he learns that he has cancer while having a baby on the way. Those are the awful circumstances that first bring Max and Helen together.

As Helen becomes Max’s doctor and he swears her to secrecy about his diagnosis, their friendship and bond grows deeper. His passion and drive to help his patients, reignites Sharpe’s love for medicine again and inspires her to put her patients first. They become vulnerable with each other more than anyone else in their lives. He confides in her about his broken marriage and she tells him that she wants a baby. When he almost dies, she becomes his deputy medical director so that he can focus on his care. All of these moments are significant to them because somewhere along the way they develop feelings for each other. They didn’t plan for it and it’s something neither of them are consciously aware of but unknowingly, they both start to fill a place in each other’s lives that was clearly more than a doctor and patient relationship or a friendship. This “place” wasn’t called out until episode 1x16 were the clairvoyant called out their feelings for each other. When episode 1x17 comes around, after a night of revelations and a scramble to get the power back on in the hospital, Helen decides to step back as his doctor. If she wasn’t aware of her feelings before, in this moment, she’s fully aware of them now. This is an effort to safeguard her heart and set boundaries because the lines of who they are to each other were already so blurred. When she “triages” their relationship Max’s reacts badly and honestly they’re both devastated and are on the verge of tears:

As viewers, we loved this moment but when you peel back the layers of what’s actually going on in this scene, it’s gut-wrenching. The subtext is so clear here yet their situation is so complex and layered. We know for a fact that Max wasn’t trying to lose her in ANY CAPACITY. We also know that in the way he TRULY wanted her he couldn’t have her and Helen knew that too. Not when he was married, had a baby on the way, and fighting cancer at the same time. Y’all that’s hard and profoundly painful when you think about it and it makes this scene all the more tragic.

When Helen steps back as his doctor, at first Max seems to be handling it well but as his cancer starts to get worse, he completely breaks. Like I said earlier, over the course of his cancer treatment, Helen filled a place in Max’s life that was so much more than just his doctor or his friend. So when he’s dying and no longer has the person he feels deeply for play an active role in his treatment, he lashes out. He’s dealing with a range of emotions he can’t handle or properly process. Things only get worse from there and at the end of season one Georgia and Luna’s life are on the line and Bloom and Helen scramble to save them. When it seems like everyone was able to come out of that traumatic event unscathed, they get into a devastating ambulance crash that changes everything.

Season 2 brings another level of pain and suffering for Max when he loses his wife after the crash and is thrust into single fatherhood. Not only is he grieving but he’s also dealing with guilt of falling in love with Helen while he was married. The complexities of his feelings is something he struggles with throughout this season and it affects his relationship with Helen. At some points he pushes her away and at others he desperately needs her. Once again, Helen and Max’s relationship is caught up in the most complex of circumstances that is riddled with agony and trauma.

By time we head into season 3, Max doesn’t even have time to breathe or think about his relationship with Helen because they’re both thrust to the frontlines of the pandemic.

I bring all of this up again to emphasize that there has never been a time where Max and Helen’s relationship hasn’t been wrapped up in trauma or some sort of suffering. It has always been one thing or another with them. It’s been A LOT and Max has tried to navigate being in love with Helen through his suffering and under these crazy ass circumstances. So after rewatching the finale, the questions that run through my mind are:

How do you step into love when all you’ve known for the past three years has been suffering?

How do you love openly and freely when for so long you’ve emotionally suppressed your feelings for someone because it was “wrong?”

How do you let go, heal, and move on with your life?

To me, answering these questions is what the season finale for Max was all about. When you’ve suffered so much and endured so much it’s not easy to step into a new chapter in your life that’s hopeful and filled with love and possibilities. For Max, I don’t think in his wildest dreams that he ever imagined that he and Helen would be in a place where they could actually be together. Considering everything they’ve gone through, quite frankly it’s a fucking miracle! So when he actually makes it to the other side and not only SURVIVES but has a chance for happiness, I don’t think he knows what he’s doing. Pursuing/having feelings for Helen from a place that isn’t wrapped up in trauma and tragedy, where there are seemingly no obstacles in his way, is totally and completely new territory for Max. I think he’s clueless in how to do that in the right way and as he navigates through that, naturally there are hiccups.

That’s evident with what he said by the elevator and also in this moment here:

Max doesn’t have a clue but he wants to make sure that he doesn’t fuck it up because he DESPERATELY wants this! I also think there’s something to be said about how we as human beings can self-sabotage ourselves when we finally have an opportunity to get what we want. Fear, guilt, worthiness usually comes into play with that and I think for Max there was definitely a fear with moving on with his life, guilt of surviving it all and having a chance to be with the woman he’s loved for so long, and a question of if he’s worthy of actually having happiness.

Their walk in my mind perfectly embodies him self sabotaging while also trying to navigate his feelings of desperately wanting to be with her. At the beginning of their walk, you see that at one point he clearly wants to hold Helen’s hand but he doesn’t (I would use a gif here y’all but I literally only have room for 10 😩). I’m focusing my attention on Max here because essentially this whole moment between them is a part of Max’s “mini story” in the episode. The ball has always been in his court and truly what we are witnessing is his journey to step into love because Helen is ready and has been waiting on him.

The most compelling moment in their walk scene for me was this one:

I find it strange for Max to walk so far ahead when he was the one who asked her if he could walk with her. My first thought while watching it live was “what is he doing” and I think Helen’s expression reads the same way. After analyzing this for a bit, I genuinely think that’s the point of this scene. Like I said earlier, Max doesn’t know what he’s doing. To be with Helen like this is, where its romantic, peaceful and drama free is probably blowing his mind and he doesn't know how to navigate this. He doesn’t know how to receive this second chance at happiness.

The internal war of Max stepping into love or allowing fear, guilt, and unworthiness to hold him back becomes all the more evident when they get to Helen’s door:

He knows he wants to come in. Helen know he wants to come in too. This man literally says goodnight twice and when Helen responds with “you said that,” it perfects this scene. She wants him to come in as well but she’s not going to ask him to. In this moment, she sees his internal struggle and she knows that he has to make the choice himself on whether or not he wants to move on with his life with her.

When he walks away, for a moment that was Max choosing to hold onto the pain and trauma of his past. That was him choosing to hold onto the guilt that was keeping him from healing and moving on. With the suffering he’s been through, it makes sense. In many ways he’s been conditioned to fight, to suffer and to endure. It’s what he’s used to. But praise the lord, he thinks of the moments he just shared with Helen.

The joy he has with just being in her presence.

The opportunity he has to freely be with her and have a life with her after loving her for so long.

He is not condemned to a life of suffering. It was only for a season. He’s in love with Helen and wants to be with her. Like hell is he going to let this opportunity at a second chance of love and happiness slip away from him. So guys, he slips off that ring, runs back to Helen’s apartment and makes a choice to step into love. Step into this new, uncharted, chapter of his life with Helen Sharpe.

Anyway guys! I hope y’all enjoyed this! I might be releasing one more meta but we will see how it goes.

As always feel free to reach out to me on Tumblr and on Twitter @oyindaodewale. Love you guys!

#new amsterdam #Sharpwin #Max Goodwin #Helen Sharpe #Max x Helen #sharpwin meta #new amsterdam meta

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marjansmarwani · 3 years

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like I was already brave enough to let go

7.2k || Chapter 1/2 || ao3

Enzo understands that leaving New York in the wake of everything is what's best for TK, but that doesn't make it any easier. Watching his stepson pack up all his broken pieces and move across the country hurts him in ways he can't describe, mostly due to the knowledge that there will be a distance between them that has never existed before. So he takes the time to check-in, to keep track of TK. To be there for him, no matter what.

He's just starting to wish that he had picked somewhere other than Austin, because he is quickly discovering he is not built for this level of stress.

After reading @futures-tense’s Enzo fic (that everyone should read, it is phenomenal) I couldn’t get thoughts of him and his relationship with TK out of my head, so naturally I wrote this. It fits into canon evetns and this is only chapter 1 of 2, because while I so have an outline for season 2 events, this was getting long so I figured I’d at least post what I had.

Massive thanks to @silvarafael and @justaswampdemon for all their help and support with this, you’re both the best!

-----------------

He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting when TK opened his apartment door, but the sad shell of the boy Enzo had come to love as his own wasn’t it.

Or maybe it was, but it hurt all the same.

“Hey kid,” he said softly, stepping carefully around him and into the apartment. He looked around the small space, taking in all the boxes haphazardly labeled and partially packed. “So, it’s true. Your mom told me but I don’t think I believed her. Never thought I’d see the day TK Strand willingly left New York for Texas, of all places.”

“Who says it’s willingly,” he said dully as he shut the door behind Enzo.

Enzo turned and studied him more closely, taking in the downturned eyes and anxious fingers thumbing the seam of his hoodie pocket, “Do you not want to go? Because you can stay here. I’ll talk to your mom, you can stay with us if you…”

But TK cut him off with a shake of his head, “No,” he said, “I think I need to do this. Dad’s right, I need a fresh start. I can’t...I don’t think I can be here anymore. When I think of staying here, I don’t see a way forward. I think if I stayed here I’d…” he trailed off, but Enzo felt a chill rush through him at the implication of what TK hadn’t said. He tried to meet his eyes but TK looked away, casting his gaze downward and away from Enzo’s sympathetic eyes.

It hurt him more than he could say to see TK like this. For all his struggles he had always been a happy kid. He had always been someone who found the joy in life where he could and he had always worn his emotions on his sleeve, for better or worse. Seeing him like this and knowing what had happened hurt Enzo in ways he couldn’t fully describe because he didn’t know the right words. All he knew for sure is that this was not the TK he had known and loved for 16 years standing before him. This was a stranger; someone he had only seen once before during a time he had hoped to never revisit.

He hadn’t asked what happened because he knew enough and he wasn’t about to make the kid revisit it just so he could fill in some blanks. He might not know everything but he knew enough to feel hot anger course through him at the thought of someone breaking that too big heart of his. TK had always been someone who loved fully and completely, and to see that thrown back in his face so spectacularly made Enzo—a typically steady and calm man — strongly consider homicide.

He had every confidence that Gwyn could get him out of any charges too, but he pushed that thought aside to focus on the scene before him.

“This isn’t your fault, TK.”

TK turned away from him, absently picking up some books from the table and dropping them into one of the boxes. “I know I didn’t make Alex cheat,” he says eventually, “but the rest of it? That is completely on me Enzo, no one else.”

He could sense that the kid had more to say so he let him go, watching from the doorway as he listlessly picked up other odds and ends from around his apartment, tossing them into boxes without any real care as to what the labels on the side said. He knew TK would speak up when he was ready and it was only a few more minutes before he did.

“Eight years,” he finally said, his rough voice breaking the silence of the half-packed apartment. “Eight fucking years of sobriety, all gone. And that’s all on me. It doesn’t matter what Alex did, I’m the one who made the choice. I am the one who let him have that power over me and…” he broke off, meeting Enzo’s eyes for a moment before looking away and swallowing. “I do need to leave,” he said eventually. “I don’t trust myself to stay here anymore. I don’t know if I’d survive it.”

Enzo could feel his heart breaking for the kid. He wasn’t a kid anymore — now 26 and an adult — but in Enzo’s eyes sometimes he was still the 10-year-old who met his eyes shyly when Gwyn first introduced them, the 14-year-old who had admitted to him in a terrified whisper that he thought he might like boys, the 19-year-old who had come to him because he wanted to enroll in the fire academy and didn’t know how his mother would take it. The feeling he had now was just like the feelings he had had then. This overwhelming love and desire to protect him from everything bad in the world; from anyone that ever told him he wasn’t enough.

And just like he had then, he stepped forward, closing the space between them to pull him into a hug. He held him close, pressing his face into his chest and placing a kiss on the top of his head. “You’re making the smart choice then,” he said evenly. “And, as much as I’ll miss you, I’m proud of you for doing what you have to do. You’ve beat this once and you’ll beat it again, I have no doubt about that.”

He knew he wasn’t imagining it when the body in his arms sagged in relief. It made him clutch him that much tighter as he spoke again, hoping what he was about to say was a given but needing to say it anyway: “And I will always be here for you, no matter where you live. I’m always just a phone call away, you know that, right?”

TK’s voice was muffled by the material of Enzo’s sweater, but he could still hear the tears in it clear as day, “I do.”

“Good,” Enzo replied firmly, releasing his grip on TK and stepping back so he could meet his eyes. “Because I will be calling to check-in, that is a promise.”

---------------

Watching him leave was bittersweet, but he believed TK when he said it was something he needed to do. He took some solace in the fact that he wouldn’t be alone. Enzo and Owen Strand may have had their differences over the years (many, many differences) but if there was one thing Enzo had never doubted it was the other man’s love for his son. He knew that TK was in good hands, but that didn’t make it any easier.

He got confirmation they had arrived in Austin in the form of a text that included a picture of a shop selling cowboy hats that simply said, “turns out people actually do where these here. Yes, it looks as ridiculous as it sounds.” It is followed by another two days later that noted the crimes Texas has committed against pizza and though Enzo was still filled with worry, he allowed himself to smile and take it as a sign that he was healing, be it ever so slightly.

He gave it almost a week before he called. He wanted to hear TK’s voice; to have proof that he really was okay, but he also wanted to give him time. His patience was helped by the fact that Gwyn had spoken to her son but eventually, he decided that he needed to hear from him himself.

TK answered by the third ring, sounding out of breath. He greeted him warmly, and Enzo could hear the commotion of construction in the background. He raised an eyebrow, “What, did you decide to leave the fire department and become a contractor when I wasn’t looking?”

This pulled a laugh out of TK and Enzo took a moment to savor the familiar sound. It felt like far too long since he’s last heard it.

“No. Dad decided we should re-do the firehouse, to give everyone a fresh start. I figured I might as well help out. Besides,” he added with a shrug Enzo could almost hear, “demolition is the far healthier method of coping with feelings, right?”

“When done with permission,” Enzo quipped in response. “How are you doing kid, has the pizza chased you away yet?”

TK scoffed, “No, but it was a close thing. Honestly, I really haven’t had that much time to dwell. I’ve been helping with the demo and construction, as well as the candidate interviews and paperwork. I haven’t really taken too much time to think about anything.”

TK said it matter of factly and Enzo almost moved past it. But he knew TK better than most. “You don’t have to punish yourself, kid,” he told him gently. “All you need to do is heal.”

“I’m not punishing myself,” TK objected, “I’m just...trying to keep busy. To distract myself.”

TK might very well think that, but Enzo was pretty sure it wasn’t true. But he was willing to move past it, for now.

“Tell me about the new crew,” he said instead, and smiled as TK launched into stories about a daredevil from Miami and a possible psychic from Chicago. He seemed enthusiastic and Enzo didn’t realize how good it felt to hear that until he had. It was like there was a little bit of life back in his voice and though he knew TK still had a long way to go to make this better, he was relieved to see that he was at least on the way.

------------

For a while, everything seemed to be going great. TK called and texted him from time to time, sharing anecdotes from calls and his new crew, and each time Enzo thinks he can hear just a little bit more of his old self returning to his voice. Sure he complains about one of them, for a while, but that too seems to sort itself out.

He could tell there is someone new in his life too, even if TK is hedgy about it at best. But Enzo was the first one to know that TK was gay at 14; he knew how to spot the signs.

“Why won’t you tell me about him?” he asked him one day, voice light and teasing as he stuffed his papers into his bag. “Is there something horribly wrong with him?”

“No,” TK countered emphatically, “there is nothing wrong with him. Absolutely nothing,” he added, almost an unconscious mutter Enzo was not entirely sure he was supposed to hear.

“So if there is ‘absolutely nothing’ wrong with him, why aren't you going for it?”

There was silence on the other end as Enzo slid his bag onto his shoulder, patiently waiting the younger man out.

“You know why,” he eventually said, voice low and sad. Enzo grimaced at how pained his voice sounded and he dropped back into his desk chair with a sigh.

“TK…” he began, but the younger man cut him off firmly.

“No, Enzo. I...I thought I could. I thought we could have something casual and that I could handle it. But then he wanted more and I hurt him. I don’t want to do that, he doesn’t deserve it. He’s too good to get dragged into my shitshow.”

“Have you asked him what he wants?” Enzo asked gently.

The bark of laughter TK gave at that was sharp and harsh, “Yeah, that should go well. Definitely won’t lead to me having to explain to this guy I’ve hooked up with a handful of times all the ways I’m fucked up right now.”

Enzo sighed again, leaning back in his chair, “It won’t always be like this, T. Someday you will be ready to try again, but only if you let yourself consider the possibility. Can you at least promise me that?”

There was silence for a long stretch and Enzo was about to ask him again when TK’s voice finally responded quietly, “Yes.”

“Good,” Enzo responded firmly, “because no matter what happened, you still deserve happiness. And someday you’ll be ready to let it in again — maybe sooner than you think.”

The sound of acknowledgment TK made sounded skeptical at best, but Enzo would take it. He knew he was right and he knew that someday TK would realize it too. Maybe even sooner than he thought.

------------

It’s about a week later when Enzo’s phone rings, nearly making him jump as he is pulled abruptly from his stack of midterms. It took him a few moments of shuffling blue books to even locate his phone and when he did he frowned at both the time and the name displayed on the screen.

“Hey kid,” he said lightly as he answered the phone, “what’s up?”

He had hoped he was overreacting, that TK was just calling him late because he was on shift and had lost track of the time. He had hoped that maybe the universe was finally giving the kid a break.

The despair and fear so clear in TK’s voice quickly prove him wrong.

“Hey Enzo,” he said softly, “fuck, I know it’s late and I’m sorry to bother you, but I just really needed to talk to someone.”

“You are never a bother,” Enzo told him firmly, capping his pen and setting it down on his desk. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” TK began before stopping, taking a deep breath and trying again, “I don’t know for sure yet, but I know something is.”

And Enzo believed him. The fear in his voice is so raw Enzo could feel every ounce of it even from a timezone away. “I’m going to need more than that, kid,” he told him gently, leaning back in his chair as he waited TK out.

“I found something,” TK said eventually, “that I definitely wasn’t supposed to find. And it means something awful. Something I don’t know if I can handle. But it also means he doesn’t trust me,” TK continued, “and somehow that almost feels worse.”

Enzo frowned, pondering all the non-specific details in his mind. He didn’t know all that much about his stepson’s life in Austin, but he knew enough to know that while he was close to his new crew, he wasn’t close enough to be this upset by an omission from one of them. That left him with two possibilities: the mysterious man he was not seeing, or Owen.

And Enzo knew which option was more likely and it made his heart sink. TK might not be sharing but Ezno knew both the Strand men better than most. If there was something Owen felt strongly enough to keep from his son that TK was this upset about, it wasn’t good news.

“You don’t have to tell me what it is,” he said cautiously, “but is it something about your dad?”

There was a deep, shuddering breath before TK responded, “Yeah.”

And Enzo shut his eyes, the hurt and fear in TK’s voice telling him all he needed to know.

“I don’t know what this is about,” he said eventually, “and you don’t have to tell me. But I do know you, and I know whatever it is you are going to want to be there for him, because that’s who you are. Let him know that, and the rest will follow from there.”

There was silence again, but Enzo waited TK out. He was familiar with this rhythm; when something was bothering TK he often took his time to make sure he had the words right before he spoke. Over the years Enzo had learned to wait him out knowing that he would get to his point when he was ready.

He did a few moments later, “I do want to be there for him,” TK agreed, “I just know why he didn’t tell me. He doesn’t think I can handle it — and he’s right,” TK confessed softly, “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can,” Ezno assured him firmly, “you can do anything you set your mind to. You always have.”

He let his words sink in for a moment before he added, “And I would talk to your dad before you make any assumptions. Let him know he can rely on you, let him know you want to be there.”

“You make it sound so easy,” TK said dryly, and Enzo huffed a laugh.

“In a way it is. It’s just words. It’s the actions behind them that are hard.”

There was silence again before TK spoke, his voice so quiet Enzo almost missed his next words, “I’m scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared,” Enzo reminded him, “sometimes fear is the appropriate response.”

But even as he said it, he could feel his heart breaking. He didn’t know what was going on and while he was sure he would find out soon enough, he couldn’t help but hate whatever it was. TK deserved some time to find himself, to heal and simply exist. He didn’t understand why the universe kept throwing such curveballs at him, but he wished with every fiber of his being it would stop.

“Sometimes it is,” TK agreed in a tone that made Enzo wonder even more what this was all about. But he didn’t ask; TK would tell him when he was ready. For now he would just be here for him. Sometimes that was all he could do.

--------------

As much as Enzo couldn’t help but worry about the younger man, sometimes the updates were a sign that things were getting better for him, slowly but surely.

One such time came as he and Gwyn were sitting on the couch together, Enzo making a case for watching Jeopardy with Gwyn adamantly refusing.

“No,” she said again with a firm shake of her head, “it always ends the same way.”

He shrugged, “I can’t help that you’re too competitive, or that I’m better at it then you are,” he added, giving her a sly grin.

“We can’t all have PhDs in history,” she said wryly, “some of us need to work for a living.”

He opened his mouth to fire back a retort but was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. “Saved by the bell,” he said instead with a shake of his head as he dug his phone out of his pocket. He frowned when he saw the familiar name on the screen and turned it so Gwyn could see.

“Hey T,” he said cautiously as he answered, “everything good?”

There was a lot of noise in the background but he could hear TK’s voice clearly as he answered, “Yeah, I just had a question for you. These people don’t believe me so I need your cred as a Columbia history professor to back me up.”

Enzo raised an eyebrow at Gwyn, who had leaned closer to hear. She bit her lip against a laugh and he shook his head fondly, “I’ll do what I can. What’s the question?”

“Hang on,” TK said, “I’m going to put you on speaker.” There was the sound of fumbling before the background noise grew louder and TK’s voice returned. “Okay guys,” he was saying, “this is my stepdad Enzo. He’s a history professor at Columbia and if you don’t believe me maybe you’ll believe him. You want to ask him the question, Paul?”

“Man, you didn’t need to…”

“No, this is a point of pride now.” TK objected indignantly and Enzo glanced at Gwyn to see that she had fully pressed a hand against her mouth to stop any laughter from slipping out and giving away her eavesdropping. “Ask him,” TK prompted and there was a sigh before a new voice joined the conversation.

“Sir, we are so sorry to bother you. TK’s just being a sore loser.”

“Paul, right?” Enzo asked and got a sound of confirmation in return, “You don’t have to tell me that, I helped raise him.” There was an indignant noise in the background, likely from TK, but Enzo ignored it. “What’s the question?”

“Who invented the first movie camera?”

“Louis Le Prince,” Enzo replied without hesitation, unable to suppress a chuckle at the sound of TK’s triumphant ha! In the background. “You guys thought it was Edison, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah,” Paul admitted sheepishly and Enzo chuckled lightly.

“That’s understandable. Edison was the first person to mass market it and the first to get recognized for it, but Le Prince was actually the first. But he mysteriously disappeared in 1890, right before he was set to take a trip to the US to talk about his invention. So he never got a chance to market it.”

There was silence for a moment before Paul spoke again, “So is there any proof Edison had him killed or…?”

“No,” Enzo admitted, “but that is one of the theories for sure. Another is his brother did it over the family will. Either way, Edison was not the first.”

“Huh,” Paul said thoughtfully, “that’s actually fascinating. Dude, I’m sorry for doubting you.”

“It’s fine,” TK said evenly, “I am more than a pretty face you know.”

There was a collective snort from the other end of the phone and Enzo glanced at Gwyn to roll his eyes. She shook her head fondly and he returned his attention to the call, “Any other burning history questions or was that it?”

The background noise lessened as TK took the phone off speaker. “No, that’s it. Thanks, Enzo.”

“Anytime kid,” he told him, “you know I love to flex my random history facts.” That got another laugh out of TK, but Enzo could still hear the background noise of a group in the background. The sounds of easy comradery set his mind at ease in a way not much else had since TK had left for Texas. “Why don’t you get back to your friends and I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Okay, thanks again.”

“Don’t mention it. I love you kid.”

“Love you too. Say hi to mom for me?”

“You’ve got it.”

With that the call was over and Enzo was left back in their silent living room, Gwyn looking at him with a soft smile.

“He sounds happy,” she said after a moment, her voice warm but thick. He nodded.

“He does. As much as I do hate to admit it, I think going to Austin may have the best thing for him.”

“You just hate that Owen was right.”

“And you don’t?” he asked her with a raised eyebrow.

“Well that’s a given,” she quipped, leaning closer to him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed them as she rested her head on her shoulder. “I’m just glad he’s doing better,” she said softly after a moment, “I’ve been so worried about him.”

“Me too,” he admitted, pressing a kiss to the top of her hair. That sat in silence for a few more moments, each lost in their own thoughts before he spoke again.

“So is that still a no to Jeopardy or…?”

She swatted at him and he grinned, ducking away from the light hit. Things seemed to have returned to their equilibrium, and that was a relief.

He just hoped it stayed that way.

-------------------

When he was wrested from sleep by the shrill sound of his phone ringing cutting through the late-night silence of his bedroom, Enzo groaned. He swore under his breath as he fumbled for the device, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he did. But when he managed to grasp his phone and saw the name on the screen, all thoughts of annoyance fled his mind. Owen Strand calling him was rarely a good sign. Owen Strand calling him at 2 am promised nothing short of disaster.

“Owen?” he said as he answered, skipping any and all attempts at pleasantries. “Is everything okay?”

He could afford to give the universe the benefit of the doubt, he decided; even if only for a moment.

When Owen’s reply came it was in a voice Enzo didn’t recognize. It was shaky and uncertain in a way that the other man never was.

“Enzo, hey. I’m sorry to bother you but Gwyn’s not answering her phone and…” he broke off with a shaky breath, “I really need to talk to her.”

“She’s in Beijing,” Enzo replied, sitting up and switching on the lamp beside him. “And given the time difference, probably in a meeting.”

He heard Owen swear distantly before he felt fear rise up in him. Owen calling him at 2 in the morning looking for Gwyn and out of sorts only added up to one thing, but Enzo so hoped he was wrong.

“Owen, did something happen to TK?” he forced himself to ask; the stress of not knowing was worse than anything else.

He could hear Owen take another breath, deep and shaky and filled with something else Enzo couldn’t identify on a phone call from half a country away.

“There was an...incident,” Owen said softly, voice still unsteady, “on our last call.”

Enzo’s mind was already spinning, stumbling from one horrible possibility from another.

“There was a man with dementia who broke into his old house and a homeowner who had a cardiac event and TK broke down the door and….he was shot.”

Enzo heard the words, he knew he did. But he couldn’t have. If he had heard them that would mean that TK had been shot and that was not something that could be true. His stepson was a firefighter. It was a profession that came with enough risks of its own. He had spent countless days worried and fearful at the thought of rescues gone wrong, of untamable flames and unstable buildings. Never once had he even entertained the thought of a bullet being a risk to watch out for. Bullets were supposed to be the problem of other people with other jobs — not his stepson, who already had so many dangers to face.

But it was true. The fear and pain in Owen’s voice told him it was true. There was an edge of both hysteria and despair in his words and that more than anything scared Enzo more than he could say.

“Where?” was the first coherent thought he could form.

“Just below his left shoulder” Owen repeated mechanically. “His...his lung collapsed before we were even out of the hallway. Enzo, he couldn’t breathe. He kept trying but he couldn’t and there was so much blood....” Owen trailed off and Enzo could hear the unmistakable sound of a sob in the background even as his own hands trembled and his eyes watered.

“Is he…” he started, but he couldn’t make himself say the words. He couldn’t speak the awful possibility into existence.

“He’s headed to surgery,” Owen replied. “I don’t know anything more than that, we only got here about 15 minutes ago. I just...I just hope it was fast enough.”

There was silence then as the two men allowed the same fear to consume them from opposite ends of the country. Enzo felt a morbid camaraderie with the other man in that moment. In the 16 years they had known each other it was safe to say that they had never exactly gotten along. They had always been polite and cordial for the sake of Gwyn, TK, and family gatherings but they were too different in too many ways that mattered to ever truly be friends. They had only ever agreed on one thing, and now that was the thing that tied them together — loving TK.

“You got him there as fast as you could Owen,” Enzo assured him without hesitation because there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that it wasn’t true. “You did everything you could. Any chance he has is because of you.”

“I think the credit lays more with the paramedics,” Owen objected, “but I appreciate the effort all the same.”

Enzo opened his mouth again, not quite sure what he was going to say but feeling the overwhelming need to say something, but he was interrupted before he got the chance to figure it out.

There was a noise on the other end followed by the sound of shuffling as Owen attended to whatever it was. When his voice returned, it was tight.

“That’s Gwyn on the other line, I’ve gotta take it. But listen, Enzo…”

But Enzo just shook his head, “Don’t worry about it Owen, talk to her. Just, keep me updated?”

“Of course,” he replied without hesitation, “as soon as I know anything.”

Then with another hurried goodbye, the call was over and Enzo was left in the dark and quiet bedroom, alone. It wasn’t long before the tears he had felt threatening began to fall in earnest as he wrapped his mind around this reality and allowed himself to dwell on it. There was a chance — a very real and terrifying chance — that they could lose TK. That Gwyn and Owen could lose the son they had brought into this world and loved for 26 years. That Enzo could lose one of the people he loved the most. The thought of TK not existing anymore was too horrible to dwell on.

Enzo was a religious man. He had been raised by a small Jewish family in a large community and his faith had been something that he had always had. It had seen him through so much. But now, with this, he had to wonder. It didn’t make sense that TK — his wonderful, caring stepson who had dedicated his life to helping people — should have to suffer so much in such a short time on earth. It went against everything he had ever believed about putting good into the world. Why should TK — who had never done anything to hurt anyone — have to suffer so? Why should he? He didn’t want to know what life without TK looked like.

More than anything, he hated that he might find out.

When Gwyn called him a few minutes later he pushed his own tears aside. He murmured soft reassurances as she sobbed in a quiet corner of a Beijing office building, consumed with fear and grief a world away from her child who was slipping further and further from them with every passing moment. He gave her empty platitudes, reassured her the best he could.

But all the while the fear was drilling a hole straight through his chest. This, he decided, was the worst fear he had ever felt.

The worst part was there was nothing he could do but wait, and hope desperately for the best.

----------------

The next several days were some of the longest of Enzo’s life. Each day he woke up and went about the day. Each day he kept his phone volume on, not wanting to miss any news either way. Each day an update came from Owen and each day it was the same: no change.

He debated going out to Austin — he had been halfway through buying a ticket online half a dozen times — but each time he stopped himself. Logically he knew that being there wouldn’t change anything. He would still be waiting, he’d just be waiting there. He told himself he was needed here, that he couldn’t just pick up and go across the country with no warning. It was the end of the semester and he had students to help to finish the course or their dissertation. He told himself staying was the responsible option, but he knew that it was largely just a distraction. But he would take any distraction he could get and so he pushed the guilt of not being there to the side

He taught his classes, he went through the motions. He fielded calls from Gwyn, still stuck in China and frantic with worry. Each day he reassured her; reminded her that TK was strong, young, and healthy. Above all that, he reminded her, he was stubborn. No bullet or coma was going to take him from them before he was ready.

Of course there was the private fear, the one he didn’t want to share, that he didn’t want to hang on anyone else. The one he was afraid to say out loud.

It was the thought that maybe, after everything, that was exactly what he did want. That maybe this was an out and that maybe, he would take it. That maybe he didn’t want to be alive anymore.

But that was a possibility too horrible to accept. Maybe it was selfish, but Enzo knew that even if that was the case, he wasn’t ready. He doubted he ever would be, but he certainly wasn’t now. He knew both Gwyn and Owen would agree. No time was a good time to lose your child — step or otherwise — but now, after this — after everything — was not the time.

So he waited, and hoped.

Time seemed to blend together and before he knew it one day had become two, which had stretched into four. Each moment passed the same way — tensely, with no news.

He knew he had been distracted too — keeping his ringer on during class and checking in throughout his lectures and office hours. He had apologized to his classes after the second telemarketer had caused him to drop everything and lunge for his phone, citing a family emergency and word had slowly gotten around. Soon it wasn’t just him hoping for the best, but most of the Columbia history department as well. Their well wishes were touching, but nothing short of good news was going to make him feel any better.

So when his phone did finally ring on a Thursday afternoon, 5 days after the fateful call, he picked it up with trepidation. The name on the screen sent his heart racing and he nearly dropped his phone in his haste to answer it.

“Owen?” he asked tersely, “Any updates?”

Because since that night they hadn’t spoken. All updates had come in the form of texts and the thought of Owen finally having something to tell him one way or the other simultaneously thrilled him and nearly froze him with fear.

But it wasn’t Owen’s voice that answered.

“Hey Enzo,” TK said, the sound of his voice rushing through Enzo’s body like a current of electricity. He sank back into his seat with a wobbly laugh, feeling nearly a week's worth of tension fall away as he listened to the miraculous sound of TK breathing on the other end of the phone.

“Hey kid,” he said warmly. “You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice. How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” he answered, “I really don’t feel too bad at all. A little sore, a little tired, but overall not bad.”

“I hear getting shot will do that to you,” Enzo retorted drily before sighing and running a weary hand down his face. “You scared the shit out of me, TK,” he admitted.

“Sorry,” TK replied softly, “I didn’t mean to worry anyone.”

“It’s not your fault,” Enzo rushed to reassure him, “I know you didn’t ask for this to happen but...shit TK, I am not built for this. Do you think you could avoid getting shot in the future, for my sanity at the very least?”

“I’ll try,” TK responded with a chuckle, “I don’t remember most of it but I don’t think it’s anything I want to revisit.”

“No, I’d imagine not,” Enzo retorted wryly. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts and taking comfort from the presence of the other even if it was only over a phone call from half a country away. “So,” he finally said, leaning into normal conversation for the sake of normalcy, “is your dad driving you nuts yet?”

“Yes,” TK responded emphatically, “he has been hovering non-stop, and he brought a date.”

Enzo could hear indignant sputtering in the background and Owen muttering something about him not bringing a date, that his date had simply come to visit him to see how he was doing and, maybe because of all the fear and stress of the past week, Enzo could only laugh.

“That sounds like your dad,” he retorted once he caught his breath, “and I wouldn’t count on that changing anytime soon.”

“She seemed cool at least,” TK allowed, voice teasing, “I don’t know why he was trying to keep her a secret.”

“Excuse you,” Owen’s voice objected from the background, “I am not the one who had a hot cop sitting by my bedside. You don’t get to talk about keeping secrets.”

“Dad,” TK groaned and Enzo’s eyebrows shot up.

“Oh, so the mystery man is a cop,” he teased, “and the plot thickens.”

Now it was TK’s turn to splutter, “Nope, we are not doing this. That is more than enough from both of you,” he declared and Enzo could hear Owen chuckling at his son’s indignation from the background. It was a slice of normal that he had feared he’d never get again. To be sitting here hearing TK’s voice, teasing him about something so simple as the guy he had a crush on seemed like a miracle and Enzo was grateful for it.

Everything was normal again, at long last.

----------------

Sometimes he thinks that turning on news alerts for Austin was the worst decision he had ever made.

It seemed practical, at the time. An easy way to stay in the know, to have an idea of what kind of calls TK may have seen on any given day. But now he was frozen in the middle of the hallway after one of his classes staring at a notification about a solar storm that had blasted through Austin, leaving devastation in its wake; regretting every decision that led him to this point.

He knew TK was still on medical leave. He knew that he should be home and resting after only being released from the hospital two days before. But he also knew his stepson and knew that whenever there was trouble, TK was usually not too far behind.

It was with that thought in his mind that he stepped out out the middle of the hallway and leaned against the wall as he waited anxiously for the call to connect. The sound of a pleasant robotic voice informing him that his call could not be completed filled him with dread, but he forced himself to take a breath. It didn’t mean anything. The grid was likely overloaded right now; Enzo couldn’t say he knew for sure what kind of damage a solar storm could do but he was willing to guess that it wasn’t great for the electronic infrastructure.

Left with no other options he went on about his day, the familiar anxiety he had only recently shed slipping back over him like a worn winter coat. He tried calling a few more times, trying to ignore how the dread in his gut grew each and every time the call didn’t go through. He resisted the urge to ask one of his science colleagues to explain the specifics of a solar storm; reasoning that dealing with his own uncertainty would be far kinder than having confirmed facts. At least this way, he decided, he could tell himself he was overreacting.

It was far too many hours before his phone rang; an unfamiliar number appearing on his lock screen. He frowned at it but swiped to answer. He did list his cell number on all of his course syllabi, but for the most part his students stuck to his campus email, or — in desperate times — text.

“Dr. Cohen,” he answered, mentally placing bets as to whether it was actually a student or a robot trying to inform him about the extended warranty of the car he didn’t own.

To his immense relief, it was neither. Instead, a familiar voice answered, sending a rush of relief through him at the sound, “Hey, Enzo, it’s me.”

“TK,” he breathed, setting down the paper he had been reading and closing his eyes as he took a deep breath. “Are you okay?”

“More or less,” he answered sheepishly and Enzo was about to push for more than that when he caught the distinct sound of a hospital intercom in the background.

“Tyler Kennedy Strand, are you in the hospital again?” he demanded and he heard a weary sigh from the other end before a quiet “yeah” was muttered.

“It’s not a big deal though,” TK rushed to explain, “I’m fine. I just pulled my stitches.”

There was another voice in the background that Enzo didn’t recognize and could barely hear, but what he could hear made it clear that the other voice was not impressed either.

“Well, what was I supposed to do?” TK demanded, and Enzo was not entirely sure who he was speaking to, “Let her drown in a burning bus?”

“You just got out of the hospital!” Enzo objected when he could form words again, “What were you doing somewhere where there was a burning bus?!”

“We just went out for boba,” TK retorted, “I didn’t expect there to be a solar storm that caused a bus accident.”

And Enzo forced himself to take a deep breath because that was fair, he supposed. There was no way anyone could control anything like that. Still…

“The next time you move we’re going to need to do some research,” he declared. “Because if it is anywhere as chaotic as Austin, I’m going to have to object.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” TK assured him, “I think I’ll be in Austin for a while.”

There was a smile in his voice and Enzo somehow had the feeling he was intruding on something, even though TK had been the one to call him.

“What number are you calling me from?” he asked, testing his theory.

“I borrowed Carlos’s phone,” TK answered in a voice that said he knew what was coming and he hoped it would at least be quick.

“Oh,” Enzo replied, “and Carlos wouldn’t happen to be the name of a certain ‘hot cop’ your father mentioned, aka the mystery man I have been trying to get you to tell me about for months?”

“Yes.”

“And when you say ‘we’ were trying to get boba…”

“Enzo…”

“And he wouldn’t happen to be with you right now, would he?”

“Are you done?” TK demanded, and Enzo only laughed.

“Not nearly, kid; I’m just getting started.”

And despite TK’s muttering, Enzo could tell that he sounded happier than he had heard him sound in ages. He marveled at the fact that somehow, despite everything, TK had managed to find the happiness and peace he had hoped for him ever since he left New York all those months ago. Between the disasters he had managed to take his broken pieces and fit them back together, maybe even stronger than they had been before.

It was all he had ever wanted for him, and he was relieved beyond belief that he had found it.

“You know, this means I’m going to have to come down there soon,” he said instead, “I’ve got to meet this mystery man for myself.”

He could practically hear TK rolling his eyes, but his voice was impossibly warm when he assured him, “You’ll like him, Enzo.”

“Do you like him?” he asked.

“Yeah,” TK responded without a moment’s hesitation, “I do.”

“Then I already do,” he assured him.

If this Carlos had anything to do with the happiness he could finally hear returned to his stepson’s voice, he couldn’t do anything but.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #my writing #tk strand #enzo #userkimmy #userjilly #userac #userbones #reyesstrand #reyeslonestartag #tuserpaige #tuserjamie #buckybarnesalways #laelipoo #I know for sure I usually tag more people but it's been so long I can't remember

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jeongvision · 3 years

Text

bandaids

synopsis. in the midst of finals season, where routine takes over your lifestyle, you find solace in the voice of your most important person that always seem to know when you’re at your breaking point.

pairing. boyfriend! kim doyoung ✗ student! fem! reader

genre. fluff, angst, slice of life, hurt/comfort, college au, non idol au, established relationship au

word count. 1.8k words

warnings. cursing, mentions of anxiety, depictions of a mental breakdown

song. bandaids by keshi

author’s note. after looking at my calendar, it has come to my attention that it’s that time of the year: finals season. i just want to let all of you know that you are doing a great job. you made it this far and i’m proud of you. i promise you, you will get through this. hopefully this could give comfort in the midst of your studies. love you all.

friends of flowers fragile silence stand beside you stop your crying

If there is one thing that all college students could agree on, it’s that finals seasons are the absolute worst thing to ever go through in college. You’re constantly spending every night at the library with your eyes glued onto your textbooks, your brain rushing to keep up in retaining all the pertinent information needed for your exams. You’re devoting hours onto your laptop with your fingers typing away on your keyboard, internet tabs and pages cluttering your screen as you rush to reach the minimum page count required for your courses.

So many times you have declined all your friends’ requests for study dates or a simple get-together because you just don’t have the luxury to. As much as you’d love to take a break from your studies, you feel like you’re running out of time. It has gotten to the point where your boyfriend has to remind you every now and then to take breaks as he gets concerned for your well-being. And just when you thought you were done with one exam or assignment, you look back on your planner only to find out that there’s more to complete. It’s like your pile just doesn’t seem to lessen with each passing day, your mentality on the brink of collapse.

Just where is the end to all of this?

You are currently perched over your desk, packets of case studies splayed out on top of your corrections textbook. Your laptop screen shines bright at the corner, documents filled with infinitesimal texts and numbers. To your right lies your essential oil diffuser, planted right on your nightstand with fumes of aroma wafting through the air. You took your best friend’s suggestion in purchasing an aromatherapy diffuser to help relieve some stress you’ve accumulated from your studies. Lavender should help out, she said. But to your dismay, you don’t feel a single ounce of it lifting from your shoulders. Forcing your brain to believe its effective properties only puts your head more into a strain.

That’s when you felt a sharp pain rip through your skull. ‘Great,’ you groaned to yourself, ‘another fucking headache.’ You dropped your pen on your notebook and rubbed your fatigued eyes, the pressure from your fingertips massaging away. “God, I can’t wait for this semester to be over with already.”

Crossing your arms, you found your phone lying in the middle of your bed. You forgot that you left it on ‘do not disturb’, finally realizing why you didn’t hear your phone ring in the past few hours. You grabbed your phone off your bed. 2:58 am, it reads. Unlocking your phone, you skimmed through your notifications, your fingers swiftly responding to certain messages cluttered up in your phone until you reached to this one particular conversation:

hey babe (sent by doie <3, 11:01pm)

hope you’re eating your meals and drinking water (sent by doie <3, 11:01pm)

just want to let you know that i’m proud of you (sent by doie <3, 11:02pm)

always am and always will (sent by doie <3, 11:02pm)

love you (sent by doie <3, 11:02pm)

You could feel a smile blooming on your lips. It has been a while since you’ve seen Doyoung, let alone hear his voice. Is it too late to call him? ‘He might be sleeping,’ you thought to yourself. ‘Should I?’ Biting your lip, you mustered up the courage and decided to call him. Placing your phone against your ear, you awaited his call. The sound reverberates through your eardrums, the anticipation of having your call picked up diminishing with each passing ring. And just when you were about to give up, the tune stops short on its last ring.

“Hello?” a deep voice croaks.

You softly smile at the sound of his voice. “Hey,” you whispered. “Did I… wake you up?”

“No, no.” You hear him shuffling on his end, to what you could assume to be from his movements in his bed sheets. “Not at all, baby.” You couldn’t help but let out a giggle, touched over the fact he’s easing your guilt of awakening him from his much-needed slumber. “What’s wrong? You need something?”

You shrugged your shoulders, a habit you’ve developed when talking on the phone with someone. “No, not really.” You run your fingers through your hair before rubbing the nape of your neck. “I just missed you, that’s all.”

He lets out a tired chuckle. “I missed you, too.”

You hum a little, “How are your finals?”

He scoffs. “Shit.”

“Not surprised,” you giggled. “You only have one more left, right?”

“Yeah. Chem 4. After that, I’m ready to sleep for a whole week straight.”

“Can I join you in your sleeping session?”

“You most certainly can.”

You both shared a laugh, your mind finally distracted from the strenuous documents that resided on top of your desk. “I call dibs on being the small spoon.”

He chortles. “You’re funny.”

“Hey! It’s only fair.”

“That’s what you said when you ate my share of fries the other week.”

His voice was much livelier than before, fully awakened from his rest now. You missed the jolly feeling you’d get when you talked to him. All those days and nights spent by his side where nothing else mattered in the world except for your boyfriend, whispering loving affirmations to you just like always. You really did miss him, and you can’t wait for this semester to be over to spend quality time with him again.

“Hey, y/n?” he called out.

“Hm?”

“You know that all I ever ask of you is to be honest with me?”

Your smile drops. You know where this is going, and frankly, you’re not sure if you’re ready to have this conversation again. Time after time, he would start a conversation with that question followed by his ongoing concerns wrapped in his mind. Sometimes he would ask for your second opinion, but most of the time they were diverted to you, his forever lover. And you knew this time, this is going to be about you.

Your free hand fiddled with the ends of your finger as you chew on your lip again, your eyes peering down to your lap.

“... yes,” you murmured.

You could hear your heart beating through your ears, the silence deafening the space that encompassed you around. Neither one of you uttered a sound to the other, too afraid to whisper through the thick tension planted in the air. Outside your dorm, there are muffled footsteps fading in and out by your door, most likely from your dorm neighbors coming back from another one of their library sessions. He lets out a soft sigh on his end, not one filled with annoyance, but filled with worry, his attention all focused onto you.

“... are you okay?”

And just like that, you felt the dam inside you crumble to ashes. The mask that you’ve held from the past few weeks is finally dissolving, the facade released from its shackles. Weeks of putting up a front, telling yourself that everything is okay, is now coming to end. ‘I’m fine,’ you would say to yourself. ‘This is nothing, I can handle this myself.’

Oh but darling, there’s only so much you could take in. Not everyone is perfect, and not everyone is indestructible. May we all be human, for we laugh, cry, smile, frown, scream, shout, cheer.

Tears burned through your eyelids, blurring your line of vision as you tried to hold yourself together. You shakily let out a sigh. “.... no,” your voice cracks. Another deep sigh, and you felt a tear drip down your cheek. “I’m… I’m tired, Doyoung.” More tears cascade down your cheeks, bringing your sleeves up to wipe them away with each drop. “I’m exhausted, Doyoung. I’m tired.. of all of this. I’m—”

With the phone still pressed against your ear, you sobbed into the night, finally pouring all your boxed-in emotions out to your lover. You cried out your frustrations, your anger, your desolace. Long have your soul been used to routine that you forgot what warmth felt like. To be cared for, watched for, and loved for.

Your sleeves soaked up all your tears, your eyelids certainly swollen from the sudden rush. You take even breaths, calming yourself down from your breakdown. Throughout your cries, never once did Doyoung strayed away from you, ears firmly pressed against his ear. He took in all, every last drop to mitigate the cold shell you’ve developed over time. He said nothing, only offering his presence as a sort of comfort to you for the time being. Once silence took over, all your tears spent, that’s when he spoke up.

“You did well, y/n.”

You breathing hitches for a moment, heart skipping a beat from his words.

“I’m so, so proud of you, y/n. You made it this far into the semester and for that, I’m proud of you.”

And alas, your smile returns. Minuscule it may be, but it’s more than what you could ask for. The feeling of having your shoulders lifted from your burdens made you feel like you could fly again, soar up in the clouds. Your best friend certainly knows how to cheer you up the most.

“Sorry about all of that,” you chuckled.

“Don’t be sorry.”

You shook your head. “No, I am. You literally just heard me have a breakdown and cry with snots all over the place—”

“I don’t give a damn about all of that, y/n.” There’s a slight shuffle on his end. “I love you for you, and that’s never going to change. I will love you at your lowest, and I will love you at your highest. Even when you feel like there’s no hope left in this world, I will bring you back to earth and hold you and remind you that you are hope.”

Just when you thought you had no more tears left in your system, you could feel the waterworks starting again. You bite down on your lower lip, desperately holding it in as love overcomes you.

“You did well, y/n. Only two more finals to go and you’re finally free.”

You wipe away the stray tear that befallen on your cheek. “Thank you, Doyoung. Really.”

“Now go out there and kick some ass for me, alright? Show those professors who’s the boss around here.”

You giggled. With your two fingers on your temple, you did an informal salute. “Yes, sir.”

“That’s my girl.”

Let this be a reminder to you, to all, that there will always be one person that will love you at your lowest, and will always be there to help pick you back up.

i’m afraid that bandaids are no good for heartache not okay, so tell me when your world is falling down

#doyoung #kim doyoung #doyoung scenarios #doyoung imagines #doyoung fluff #doyoung angst #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #doyoung smut #kim dongyoung #doyoung x reader #doyoung x oc

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boldlyanxious · 3 years

Text

Designs on you

Jasonette July prompt 18: design

July

Masterlist

Marinette hadn’t made an appointment but the shop appeared to not be busy. Maybe she could get in pretty quickly. Shocking for how many positive reviews it had. There were a few negative ones but they just seemed like haters. They didn’t even seem like they had been to the shop. Maybe someone just didn’t like a tattoo parlor in the neighborhood.

The door made a quiet tone as she entered. She looked around. It was very clean. Not at all what she had expected from a tattoo parlor. She had only been in one once when she went with Alya. Marinette had chickened out. Alya was getting a tiny fox but Marinette didn’t want to do something little that she didn’t feel connected to. But she hadn’t been ready then to go for a larger piece covering her side like she was now.

She guessed the man who came from the back was the tattoo artist on duty. He was very tall with dark hair. He looked exactly like she would expect. His arms were muscled and covered in tattoos. She briefly wondered if he had any art under the shirt that stretched tightly over his muscled chest. She pulled her thoughts away and looked up at him. He seemed surprised to see her. Probably not surprised at business, but surprised at the tiny woman in dainty business apparel walking into the shop.

“You here to get a tattoo?” he asked.

“Yeah.” she said, a bit hesitantly.

He glanced down at the desk. “Did you make an appointment? I don’t have anything in the schedule. ”

“I didn’t make an appointment. I figured I would see what times you had available instead.”

“You’re in luck. I was supposed to be closed today so I don’t have anything scheduled.”

“That’s great. I won’t be able to back out.”

She laughed nervously at her half joke. He eyed her for a moment.

“Are you sure this is what you want? It won’t come off easily.”

“Yes. I made the design years ago. I just get nervous sometimes.”

He nodded and held out his hand to see her design. He looked it over for a moment. Then pulled out some paperwork.

“Standard paperwork for liability and care after.” he added. “It's a nice design. You must have been barely old enough when you designed it.”

“The first version I made when I was 9. I’ve updated it a lot since then. But I’m happy with how it looks now.”

They discussed the process and the design for a few minutes and he made a copy of the design for his records. He made a quick sketch as well for her to approve how he made her design for the transfer. He took her back to the studio room and prepped a space to get started. He made sure she had eaten and stayed hydrated that day and let her know that it would take several hours or they could split it into 2 sessions. She said she would rather do it all at once so he just let her know to discuss when she needed breaks.

Marinette flinched when he put his hand on her bare skin. Even knowing it was going to happen didn’t stop it from tickling. He paused while she worked on stopping her squirming so he could get the transfer applied to get ribs. She focused on holding still and expecting his touch. He seemed very focused on his work. She tried not to think about how nice his fingers felt brushing against her skin. Before he began he checked to make sure she was ready and had an idea of what to expect with how she would be laying and the best way to hold herself and breathe.

He was quiet at first and Marinette focused on trying to maintain her position through the stinging. She did her best to remain still as he moved from one side to the other. She was starting to feel stiff and she really wanted to shift but didn’t want to mess it up. She really wanted a break but he said it would be best if he could get a certain amount done before they took a break. She was pretty sure he could tell she was getting restless because his hand moved and put slightly more pressure on her than he had before. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back trying to think of how great it would look when he finished. It was only a few more minutes before he pulled away and told her it was a good time for a break.

She stood and stretched and he offered her some water and a granola bar to help her make it through the rest. She moved around and went into the bathroom to splash her face before she felt ready again. He recommended a few stretches she could do from a poster on his wall that would help her manage to make it through to the next break. He seemed distracted on his phone but when she finished he was ready again. She laid back in the chair with her side exposed as he started up again. It seemed to feel a lot worse when he started again. She stopped most of the noise she wanted to make and instead sucked in a fast breath. Then focused on blowing the air out slowly rather than shifting away.

“Good girl,” he said, before continuing on.

Marinette felt herself flush and she didn’t think it had anything to do with the continuing pain. She tried not to think about the pain but somehow she only noticed his hand as it moved to a different spot on her side. The gentle movement felt like a caress in comparison to the burning feeling left in the wake of the needle. Once they got back into the rhythm he started talking to her.

“So what made you decide that the art needed to go on now rather than later?”

“Well, I’ve wanted it for a long time, but I am making a dress that will show most of the side off. I thought it would look nice showing through.”

“That should do. Do you make a lot of dresses?”

“Yes, actually. I’m a fashion designer.”

“A dress showing off the side doesn’t sound like your everyday dress. Is it for something special?”

“I’ve been designing for a client having a formal event. He invited me to that as a way to expand my business because he was impressed with my work.”

“That should be nice. I like to display the work I’ve done, so if you get a good picture of the tattoo in the dress it could be a good thing for both of us.”

“I’ll make sure to do that.”

He suggested a final break not long later. He said like with the first break it would feel a bit worse right after but it would be easiest for both of them if they had a chance to stretch out a bit. She treated it much the same as the first one, just moving slightly more carefully with more of her side feeling raw. He seemed to be on his phone again, but also watching her a bit more than the first time. She still tried to do a bit of stretching and moving around until he headed back to the tattoo space.

She was prepared for it to be more tender when he started this time so she managed to keep her breathing in check. He moved quickly and carefully filling in the lines with color but also moved to conversation to distract her more quickly this time.

“You drew this when you were a kid still?” he asked.

“Well, the first time I did. This is just the version I settled on. I use it in my designs a lot like a signature.”

“That's some dedication. What made you decide on it?”

“A picture of my parents the day my dad proposed to my mom. It was in Paris, where I’m from, and the chestnut trees were in full bloom. I’ve just always loved the way they looked.”

“I don’t think I even realized chestnut trees bloomed. I guess I just never thought of it.”

“They have a lot of them in Paris. There is basically a blossom season in Paris but chestnut was always my favorite. I tried to confess to my crush when they were blooming back in lycee because I thought it would be romantic.”

“That doesn’t sound like it worked the way you wanted.”

“It was a disaster. I stumbled all over my words and he told me all about how he should bring his crush there. I ended up talking about fabric for 10 minutes before he finally redirected the conversation. When we left he told me I was a great friend.”

With the conversation suddenly going to a place Marinette didn’t like to remember she forgot to focus on her breathing and holding still. She made a pained noise and jumped, grabbing his hand without even thinking. He patted her a bit and rubbed her arm to calm her down. She caught her breath and refocused on her breathing. He waited until she was back into position and held the tattoo needle steady above her before he restarted.

“We only have a few more minutes. It will be a bit rough for you and you will want to move, try to refrain.”

She did well for another few minutes but then she started squirming again. He added pressure to help her relax but she struggled each time the needle moved. He pressed his free arm down on her and said.

“If you can't hold still, I will have to pin you down. I can't have you messing up all my hard work.”

Marinette froze and looked at him wide eyed. He winked but still held steady until she nodded at him to continue. She gripped the side of the chair and closed her eyes. She focused everything on breathing steady and within a few minutes he had stopped again. He spent a few minutes wiping away a bit of blood and ink before showing her the final look before he wrapped it carefully and explained the instructions for care. They went to the counter and paid. He suggested that she return when she wanted to add to the design; she had mentioned wanting it to travel down her thigh too.

“It turned out very nice. You might be my best side piece.” he said.

Marinette stumbled over her goodbye at that. She looked at him but his smirk seemed to suggest he knew exactly what he had said. She reentered the front of the shop and walked back to the counter. She held out a card for him. He took it with a grin. Their fingertips brushed with the exchange but he reached up and gave her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing her hand and taking the card. Marinette met his eyes and held them for a moment before she turned and headed for the door, smiling.

Taglist

#jasonette july 2021 #maribat #jasonette #tattoo au #boldlyanxious

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kittydemon9000 · 3 years

Text

Okay so I was thinking about ToE and had ideas to add for my Not Today Destiny AU(tl:dr, Kai keeps Lloyd’s Green Ninja status secret from everyone and how canon is affected from there)

Also, before we get into it, because there was no Overlord messing with tech, THERE IS NO LOVE TRIANGLE! I am fully subscribed to the theory that the Overlord messed with it in order to split the team up, and it’s stupid that it worked. So no Love Triangle and no Jay Cole Fight. That’s important later.

ANYWAY, with Zane not dead they’d be a bit less desperate to go to the island, and without that incentive of keeping quiet they’d probably immediately go talk to Wu about this weird invite and the fact that other Elemental Masters existed.

Wu would fill them in, explain how Chen was definitely up to something, which has them all go in the first place, and Nya and Wu agree to stay behind to watch Lloyd and defend against Garmadon.

How does this exactly tie into this AU? Well, there were two extra letters sent, one to Kai and Lloyd respectively.

Lloyd’s letter explained how he was also being invited, and if he won he would be awarded some info about his mom. Lloyd knows the ninja would never let him go, so he opts to sneak there and then explain. Better to ask apologies than permission. But don’t worry, he left a note for Nya and Wu

Meanwhile, Kai’s explains how they have found knowledge of who the Green Ninja is, and if he wins he’ll get that info and can do whatever he wants with it.

These two are connected and also important later.

They go to the boat, Nya gets them some hidden trackers to be safe, Kai is secretly freaking out since “How the heck does Chen know???” and then Lloyd sneaks on too. Now, at first everyone just thinks Lloyd is just really short and keeps to himself. It’s not until they land and get to the main room that it finally clicks to Kai that it’s Lloyd when Chen points him out as the Master of Energy.

He of course, is very not happy that Lloyd is here and makes that very well known. The other ninja are equally unhappy while the rest of the EM’s are given a slight Moral Dilemma since yes they want to win, but that means there’s a chance of them fighting a literal child(it’s been….almost a year since they first met Lloyd so he’s about 10 right now).

Lloyd’s room is next to Kai’s, just on the other side so he still shares a balcony space with Skylor. Maybe one of the other EM’s finds Lloyd desperately looking for a Jade Blade and “accidentally” drops it so he can pass.

Later when Karlof is dropped through the floor more than a few cast a glance over to Lloyd, each silently dreading who will have to go against him. Nobody comments when Kai holds Lloyd close and if anyone saw Lloyd sneaking into Kai’s room that night, they didn’t say anything.

It’s that night when Lloyd explains why he came, which makes Kai panic even more. On one hand, he cannot let anyone else find out about Lloyd’s Destiny. But on the other….Lloyd could finally get answers for what happened to his mom unlike Kai who has no idea what happened to his parents

So yeah. Not a fun time.

But it only gets worse from there.

You see, at first each of the ninja let out a silent sigh of relief when they learned they wouldn’t have to fight Lloyd.

Wellllllllll since there’s no Love Triangle and no fighting between Cole and Jay, Chen has no reason to pit them against each other to further split up the ninja.

What he does instead? Changes things so instead it’s Kai vs Lloyd

Now, it’s plainly obvious to everyone that those two are very close, so they’re not looking froward to this next fight at all. Camille honestly isn’t sure if this is better or worse than if she had to go against him

At first, their fight is mostly a verbal one, trying to get the other to take the Jade Blade, with only the occasionally very wide shot to try and herd the other toward the Blade. At some point Kai ends up physically picking up Lloyd and trying to carry him over to the Jade Blade, yelling about how Lloyd has a chance to find his mom and he shouldn’t that up, but Lloyd is fighting him and immediately yells back that he doesn’t want to find her at the cost of his Big Brother and god if that isn’t a knife in the heart of the other EMs.

But Chen, being the bastard he is, decides this is boring because it’s going no where and release the bikes like canon, and then these two fight like a well oiled machine.

But ofc, we can’t have nice things and the arena starts falling apart.

And Kai….as much as he’s terrified of Lloyd’s Destiny, he even more terrified of loosing Lloyd.

So with a bright smile and a good luck wish, he jumps.

That night when Chen takes away their rooms as punishment, none of them can be mad. They don’t comment either when the remaining ninja drag two of the bunk beds together a curl up around Lloyd. Instead of splitting them apart, it only lets them know that Chen is not their friend. He sees all of this as a game, going as far as to lure a child here with promises of finding his mother and making him fight the family he has left.

This actually makes their Elemental Alliance work out better this time.

(Also this time Jay fought Ash, then Cole fought Camille(I’m also 99% sure the skating thing was just another attempt to split them up, so again it’s kinda useless here).

Meanwhile Kai does not have a fun time. Clouse is upset since 1) the plan was for Lloyd to be the one to loose, either by Kai winning or making Lloyd fall, since because he’s the green ninja he’s bound to be powerful and 2) because Skylor got attached to this stranger and Chen ordered him to make Kai useful to them. So now he’s trying to keep a very annoying, very loud prisoner while waiting from the Master of Mind to be captured so he can use those powers to make Kai more docile.

Unfortunately, a side affect of Kai being as loud and obnoxious as possible means he spends a lot of his time knocked out, so he has no idea how long he’s been stuck under or if any of his family are stuck under here too. At the very least he shares a wall with Karlof who tries his best to fill him in(when he learns who Kai was made to fight he also gets pretty pissed).

Later when they’re all dropped from the plane, all of them are quick to make sure Lloyd has a parachute. This time the objective is to a “Safe Zone,” but there’s only enough for four of them. However, the Safe Zones are, unsurprisingly, traps and there’s enough for everyone. Once you step in one, it descends, then vengestone cuffs fly out and trap the Master inside.

Skylor ends up finding Lloyd and offers to help him look for one. They end up talking and joking, Lloyd saying how Kai has an enormous crush on her and kept trying to impress her, but Lloyd thought she was good and would like Kai if they didn’t need to fight each other, which accidentally slams her with guilt.

Some how she ends up slipping, maybe by accidentally revealing how she knows the locations/number of traps and Lloyd realizes she’s the spy which crushes him. He tries to fight her but she just pushed him onto the trap.

Going to the small cult area below, the remaining EMs are brought together. They try their best to keep Lloyd protected but he’s brought to the front anyway. Lloyd asks if they even knew about his mom, to which Chen reminisces about a woman they meet a few years ago who was stealing from them and how they stole some of her things, but they were mostly worthless. They honestly have no idea where she is, which just makes Lloyd mad.

Mad these people tricked him. Mad these people had the audacity to pretend to know his mom. Mad these people made Kai sacrifice himself for him.

However, they weren’t lying About having met Misako. That’s actually how they found out about the whole “Lloyd Being The Green Ninja” thing

But anyway. Chen steals their powers, Skylor is having a moral dilemma, and they start getting ready to Make Trouble in the Noodle Factory

Only this time when they go to steal the staff, they now have to fight Kai.

Only this time for real.

This is the replacement for the Staff Scene. Because of his affect under the Staff Kai…..isn’t really there. Like, he’s just a blank puppet. There’s the tiniest amount of emotion, but his eyes look empty.

At some point the staff goes flying and it turns into a mental tug of war between Clouse commanding Kai and Lloyd and the others trying to get through to him. Lloyd is luckily able to get to Kai enough for him to smash the jewel, releasing the EM powers and the control on him. It gives him the worst headache though.

And from there, canon is mostly the same for a while. The whole time this has been going on Zane has been having dreams/nightmares about an Ice Dragon and finally makes the connection to unlock it. Skylor is still captured, Chen still escapes but now Clouse is still around, Pythor is captured, TIME FOR THE END

This time around, the EMs are able to follow Chen to their base of operations and have the final battle there. They fight, and even though they’re only partially Anacondrai, they’re still hard to fight.

Clouse tries to do the whole “Banish You To the Departed Realm” thing, but accidentally summons the Anacondrai Generals as well, who are very not happy over what these humans are doing.

And yeah. That’s what I got.

I might do more in depth posts for some of the other seasons, not sure. But feel free to ask or submit ideas of your own

#if you cant tell #ToE is my favorite season #but at the same time #i love to change it #Not Today Destiny #info dump #kai #kai smith #lloyd #lloyd garmadon #tournament of elements #ninjago #long post

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lizzy-williams · 3 years

Text

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐭

🐺Warnings: Alpha/Omega dynamic, SMUTTTT, neediness, language, mature themes, dubcon?

🐺Masterlist

🐺Summary: Every Omega knows that going into heat is rough, especially when unclaimed. All eyes are on you. So when it hits you in the middle of a coffee shop with your friends, a particular alpha is very willing to help.

🐺Theme (All I Need by Radiohead)

🐺A/N: Lol we gonna get dirtttyyyy. By the way, you’re small in his, like body proportion wise, like 5′4 small so there’s that. I know people want the ‘independent strong hardheaded alpha female’, but in this one ur compliant, sorry if ya don’t like it. There will most likely be a part 2 :)

“Y’know, I dunno how you drink that stuff,” Anna-Lynn said from across the table, making [ y / n ] roll her eyes and look up.

“You’re just jealous cause your tastebuds are weak,” she retorted, taking a teasingly long sip of her dark black coffee.

It was nice having a day out like this. Especially when everyone seemed so busy with preparing for the spookiest holiday of the year. Paper bats and small pumpkins littered the store-fronts of London, the summer weather fading with the light chilly breezes autumn seemingly brought.

The calm warm light streamed through the window of the coffee shop the three young women were in, the dusk just hitting them. The tree leaves complimented the light as it covered the area in a soft blanket of pink and orange hues.

“So, um,” [ y / n ]’s other friend, Elizabeth, began to speak, clearing her throat and shooting a daring look at Anna-Lynn, “Have you thought about Ethan at all?”

Ah, yes, Ethan. He was Elizabeth’s younger cousin, just then turning 19, a simple beta with no claimed mate.

[ y / n ] shook her head, and to this, the two girls let out a defeated huff, “You need to chose someone,” Anna-Lynn’s voice was clipped as she huffed, but it had a hint of concern. Worry even.

And of course there was a stipulation to one of [ y / n ]’s favorite seasons. Because for her kind, not only was it autumn, but it was also mating season. A dangerous time for any omega unclaimed. If you were unclaimed when the time came around, you were easy pray, and other alphas and betas could smell you much much easier.

You would become a target. Even more so if you were in heat.

“I’m not worried about it.” [ y / n ] sighed, nonchalantly, taking a large gulp of her drink before setting it back down. But deep down she truly was.

“We just don’t want you to become like one of those other omegas... you know, getting claimed by someone on the street during their heat... someone they don’t love at all and being forced to have pups, it’s just barbaric.” Elizabeth glanced down at her dwindling hands.

“I understand that. But I’ve had no issues with this before. I’ll just... lock myself up in my room with a vibrator and some porn. That’s worked before,”

“Bullshit, you were a grump for like a month because you had built up aggression. Ethan’s a good guy. You should really consider it.”

Yes, Ethan was nice. But when it came to [ y / n ]... she just felt as if they weren’t meant for each other. And there was no way that she would consider having pups with him and-

Speak of the mother fucking devil-

It was as if she was hit with a million bricks at once, her body becoming hot, a powerful wave of uncomfortable warmth crashing through her body like a tidal wave, her mouth clamping shut tightly. Her breath hitched, her thighs tightening around nothing, her legs shaking as she felt herself feel as if she were going to throw up. The moisture between her thighs was uncomfortable as she felt her panties stick to her mound.

How could she be so careless? Now she was in heat in public and she knew that nearby alphas and betas had already caught onto the scent, most likely heading their way. She knew it was roughly the time she would go into heat. And it was hell on earth right now, knowing that now that the sun was just now taking it’s last breaths over the tall buildings, the night heightening her kind’s senses acutely.

Her friends caught on almost immediately, knowing the mannerisms of the heavy breathing and the quivering lips. Her eyes were wide as she bit down on her bottom lip harshly, trying her best to keep her whimpers and whines in the back of her throat.

Thoughts raced through the young woman’s mind. Thoughts of her being taken in the most delicious ways possible by any man that just so happened to look her way. And her friends could tell that there were already at least a few alphas coming in hot, the sudden howling through the now darkened air making the 2 other girls’ senses hyperactive.

What was ironic was that there was a conversation going on between two baristas behind the counter, “The dogs are at it again, they’ve been a lot noisier than usual.”

“We need to get her home, right now.” Anna-Lynn commanded, Elizabeth giving a chaste nod before flipping through her phone as a poor, squirming, [ y / n ] sat right across from them, panting in her intense discomfort.

She shut her eyes tightly, desperately trying to ignore the ache in her core. She wanted, no, needed to be filled up. To be claimed. But the thoughts only drove her down deeper, desperation seemingly seeping out of every pore.

As soon as she was called an Uber, it was an agonizing amount of time before it finally came to a stop, the driver flashing concerned looks at the poor squirming girl in her back seat. Throughout the whole ride, it took everything for [ y / n ] not to touch herself, and all she could do was shift her thighs together, and thankfully, (soon enough), the car came to a stop.

[ y / n ] let out a strangled ‘thank you’ to the driver before getting out, and after the woman drove off, she found herself stumbling into an alleyway. Her whole body was on fire and she needed release, any release.

Her back violently hit the brick wall of a darkened alleyway, her loud and labored breaths echoing through the seemingly empty face. She needed tension. At least a little bit.

As if her legs weren’t her own, [ y / n ] spread her legs only a small amount, just enough to slip her hand under her pants and softly drifting her fingertips over her clothed clit.

A smooth and controlled rubs soon turned into harsh and fast circles, her needful thoughts forcing her mind to tune out the howling that was getting closer and closer to her. It wasn’t until a low and terrifying growl resonated through the hollow space, making her stop in her tracks, yanking her hand out of its position, doing her best to stand up and steady herself.

But it was far too late, because by the time she finally started bolting towards the opening in the cold alleyway, her body was caught and thrown against the frigid brick, a pitiful yelp leaving her lips, unleashed tears forming in her eyes.

“You smell fucking delicious,” a dark voice spoke, no doubt an alpha, and [ y / n ] wouldn’t dare look up and meet his eyes.

“P-Please, I c-can’t-”

[ y / n ] didn’t even know why she was saying please, for there were so many reasons she could be saying it.

Please don’t.

Please help the pain.

Please touch me.

Please don’t touch me.

Please.

But the young woman’s thoughts were cut short by a violent tug to her hair, forcing her gaze on the person in from of her. He had bright red hair, freckles apparent, even in the dull light of the closed off space. He wore a jet black hoodie, and that was all that [ y / n ] bothered to take in.

“You’re a pretty one...” his words rattled through her mind, muffled by the sharp ringing in her heat from the sudden contact to the wall only moments earlier, “Glad I claimed you before anyone else could,” he paused to chuckle to himself, “Would hate to touch damaged goods.”

[ y / n ] whimpered and almost recoiled away, but she knew better. This alpha seemed ill-tempered, and she didn’t want to find out what would happen if she dared to disobey.

He gave a rough tug to her hair, standing her up, and immediately started to kiss her neck in hopes of warming her up a little bit more, not that she needed it, but nonetheless, his lips continued their assault on the young woman’s neck, whimpers and whines escaping her lips.

“Just one little thing, pretty girl, you’re unclaimed, I can smell it on you.” he spoke before leaving a long, sinful lick up her throat, “I’m going to bite this pretty little neck and make sure that nobody else is going to touch what’s mine.”

The girl’s body shivered violently. He was talking about a claim mark. If that happened, she could never escape him, it was a tracking device. Where ever she decided to go, he would know exactly where she was.

“Please, don’t, I-”

But a violent growl made her blood run cold and her words pause half-way up her throat. But it wasn’t from her captor. His head was already snapped towards the source of the sound, which was at the opening of the alleyway, the minimal light caused by the streetlight exposing a clothed figure with its hands in its pockets. They weren’t tall but they weren’t short, but their stature was confident.

Great. Another alpha.

“Drop her.” the voice spoke, straight to the point and commanding.

“Fuck off, she’s mine, I got to her first.” the ginger male snapped, his eyes now a vibrant scorching gold, shining in the darkness.

“Drop the fucking girl or I’ll rip you’re fucking head off.” this time it was a vicious growl, strong and unwavering that sent goosebumps down [ y / n ]’s spine.

“That a challenge, pint-size?” the ginger taunted, referring to the other alpha who only stood at a good 5′8, while he stood at a large 6′1, slamming the girl onto the ground making her yelp out in pain.

Finally, the young alpha stepped into some form of light, making his face visible, and the ginger’s expression of defense faded into a face of fear and regret, the eyes that once glowed yellow dying down to it’s original color.

“T-Tom, Jesus, man, excuse me, I didn’t-”

The alpha, apparently named Tom, harshly grabbed the ginger’s shirt, pulling him in and looking up at him with deadly eyes, “Leave.”

And just like that, he was gone, and hopefully never going to be seen again.

Tom’s expression turned soft when he saw the poor writhing omega in a mound on the hard concrete of the ground, small whimpers of discomfort making his chest clench.

“You live here?” he questioned, motioning to the building she was now leaned against.

All she could to was let out a whine of confirmation, nodding her head slowly as she clamped her thighs together as tightly as possible.

“Come on then, can’t have you out in the open, there’s already talk, let’s get you inside,” he said, kindness and understanding in his tone, holding out a hand to [ y / n ], who in turn took it almost immediately.

It took her a second to walk, her knees weak, not to mention it was hard not to notice Tom’s muscles, and his face. God, he was truly attractive.

She let her mind wonder as they began to walk, his arm firmly around her waist, trying to keep her steady. She wondered what it would look like when he came, filling her up to the brim, making her full, a thin blanket of sweat covering his body, his eyes glowing, hungry, and she let out a whimper at it.

“You’re staring.” Tom smirked as they stepped into the elevator of the complex.

“S-Sorry,” she muttered, trying to shake the embarrassingly dirty thoughts from her mind as she continued to try and focus on just getting to her apartment.

The sooner she got there, the sooner she had her vibrator, the sooner she had release. She was convinced, at least, that that would solve her problems, at least temporarily.

She led him to her apartment, still holding onto him for dear life as her core throbbed with need and want. When the door unlocked with a small click, she turned the doorknob, almost collapsing through the doorway.

“Do you need any help?”

This could have meant many things. But of course, [ y / n ] was oblivious in her response.

“N-No, I think I can manage to put myself to bed.”

Tom gave a small chuckle as he sat her down on the couch, sitting next to her as she slouched back, “No, I mean I can help with your problem... that is, if you want me to,”

[ y / n ]’s mind was clouded in a haze of neediness, so with no hesitation, she whimpered a small yes, before immediately unbuttoning her jeans and slipping them down a little bit to eagerly.

She knew this was happening to quick, almost irrationally quick, but the need in her pounding cunt was much more important to her at the moment than her petty morals and reason.

“Are you sure?” he looked at her with sincerity, watching as she shifted out of her pants and took his hand, placing it on her covered mound.

“Please, just touch me, Tom,”

Hearing his name on her lips was almost enough to make him lose his control and say ‘fuck it’, but he figured that if her were to do this, he might as well try to do this right.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, darling,” he muttered, easily finding her sensitive bud, even through the material of her panties.

She let out a soft and breathy moan, taking her hand of his own and moving it to his bicep, squeezing, as if it were anchoring her down to Earth, because she had never been touched like this, especially by someone else.

As if Tom had read her mind, he looked up at her, drinking in her reactions before speaking, “Are you a virgin?”

She nodded her head, his pace never faltering.

“I’ve been waiting- ugnh - for the right person... I trust you,” she managed to get out between moans.

“You barely know me,”

“But I want to. There’s - ah, fuck - something about you. I l-like you,” she admitted, the filter between her mouth and her brain nonexistent as she felt nothing but pleasure and a release from the uncomfortable pressure she was feeling only moments before.

“Fuck,” to Tom, it was nice to hear that somebody needed him, trusted him, especially with something like this, so sacred and meaningful. She was giving him the gift that could only be given once, and he was happy to receive.

After a few moments of him rubbing her in all the right ways, he hesitantly pulled his hand away from her, hating the noise of protest that she released.

“Come on, princess, let’s take this to you're bedroom, yeah?”

[ y / n ] was compliant to his suggestion, standing up best she could without Tom’s help, but soon leaning on him as she directed him to her bedroom door.

The door was busted open, and she was thrown onto the bed, and as soon as she hit the mattress, she stripped off everything else, leaving her completely nude, and her actions inspired Tom to do the same.

He quickly got on top of her, grinding the length of his cock against her soaking wet folds, making him growl.

“Fuck, darling, I’m not even inside you yet and you feel heavenly-” he hissed, the little omega nodding in response.

“Alpha, please, I need you inside me, I want you to fill me,” she desperately pleaded.

Tom let out a feral snarl at the use of the word ‘alpha’, surprised it had so much of an effect on him being used like this. It was so fucking hot. She had him wrapped so tightly around her pinky and didn’t even know it.

“Anything for you, darling,” he muttered, lining himself up and ever so slowly easing himself inside his new mate, a pained whimper escaping her, his cock seemingly splitting her in half.

Tom finally remembered that she was a virgin. And that made him even harder inside her. He waited for him, for her mate, while he was out fucking every omega that crossed him. But with her, she wasn’t just an omega. And he wanted to prove it to her.

He took his time, almost cockwarming, staying still inside of her as her body naturally adjusted to his size, feeling so close to each other, it was enough for the two of them to almost fall in love right then and there. Tom finally took in how perfect she was to him. Someone he knew he wanted to keep around in the long run. Someone he knew he wanted to protect, even when she didn’t need protection.

[ y / n ] scratched up his back, signaling that she was ready, and confident that he could move with little to no discomfort from her.

The alpha started to move his hips, her tight cunt making his eyes roll back in his skull as he dropped his head into the crook of her neck, leaving soft and reassuring kisses to her neck as she made the most delectable noises, making him addicted, almost like his own brand of opioid.

“So fucking tight, princess, you feel like fucking paradise,” he praised as he drank up the omega’s reactions as she experienced her first time with him.

She’s like this for me and only me.

Her face was scrunched adorably in pleasure, her eyes shut tight as she felt the moment, his skin under her finger tips, the burning that was set in her core easing as she finally had pleasurable relief. Like getting a refreshing drink on a particularly hot day.

Tom couldn’t help himself, and as if his body wasn’t his own, primal instinct took over as he began to make his strides harder and quicker, making the most pathetically cute noises release from her mouth.

“You like that, darling?” he panted licking and sucking her neck, making one of her tiny hands weaving itself though his chestnut curls, “Why did I bother asking, of course you do. You love it when your alpha fucks you.”

All she could do was nod her head as she felt a coil inside her tighten. Tom felt his cock inflate as he continued to drive into her, pounding her into the mattress as he growled praises into her neck, her moans and whimpers never stopping.

Soon the praise turned into a single word, falling out of his mouth like a prayer, even though what they were doing was the farthest thing from holy.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

The omega could take it anymore, whimpering out, “P-Please, I... want you to b-bite me. Please, I need you to claim me,” she begged, which made his assault on her cunt falter slightly, slowing down to a calm and intimate pace.

He knew what that meant. When an alpha bites an omega, she’s claimed. It means that nobody can touch her. Almost like an unbroken bond between two of their kind, and it meant a lot.

And though they had just met only a half an hour prior, he knew that she was special, and he knew that this was who he was meant to be with, and his heart swelled at the thought of getting to know her inside and out. A true connection.

“You want me to claim you, huh?” he paused his movements, [ y / n ] nodding frantically, wanting more than anything, “I’m not going to go easy on you. I want you to feel nothing but you inside me while I claim you, nothing but rapture as I claim you as mine.”

[ y / n ] nodded once again, to while Tom protested, “Words, darling,”

“Yes, alpha, I understand, I- OH FUCK-,” she yelled out. And she thought he was going hard before, but that was nothing compared to the pleasure she was now presented with, his cock properly railing into her as he left a long and sinful lick up her neck before taking a bite, his eyes glowing a bright fluorescent gold as she let out one of the most pornographic moans she had ever heard.

The copper taste in his mouth tasted like candy, and home, the sweet substance covering his lips as he finally pulled back, knowing that she was close.

And close she was. She was so close to release she could almost taste it, and god did it taste good. Without warning, the coil inside her snapped, making her vision cloud, her thoughts unable to collect themselves as her vision clouded, and she swore she blacked out for a second.

She was so overcome with pleasure, she didn’t notice that he had cum himself, the sensation of him pulling out and his cum spill out of her enough to get her riled up enough. But if what just happened didn’t vanquish the heat she was experiencing before, God only knew what would.

Tom stepped back, taking in the sight of his new mate, completely fucked out and covered with marks, his cum dripping out of her like a faucet. He wished for this image to be branded into his mind so he could see it every time he closed his eyes.

“Absolutely stunning.” he praised, his hands now running up and down her thighs.

[ y / n ] was finally Tom’s, inside and out, and Tom couldn’t be more proud.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, love, yeah?”

The morning was soft and filled with nothing but admiration to each other, the two staying in bed most of the morning until they finally went to the omega’s kitchen to make breakfast/lunch.

[ y / n ] was cooking the bacon and eggs when she suddenly felt arms wrap around her from behind, a chin resting on her shoulder.

“How’re you holding up?” he questioned, and it make [ y / n ] blush at how considerate she was about her state, his fingertips dragging lightly over the violent-looking bite mark on her neck.

“I’m absolutely perfect,” she smiled, “Feels nice to belong to someone.”

“You know what? I was thinking the exact same thing.”

And for once, the two of them were truly excited for the future.

#werewolf au #alpha #omega #alpha!tom #tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #marvel x reader

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