#(CONSIDER THIS ME FEELING HE'S SOMEWHERE AROUND HER HEIGHT. WITHOUT ACTUALLY CONFIRMING ANYTHING IN THIS RESPONSE LOL. 8'D) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

outofsstyles · 3 years

Text

AU | Famous!Reader x Fashion student!Harry

☁️ FIC PAGE ☁️ PART 1 ☁️

word count: 20.3k

warnings: language

Sweet tea in the summer

Cross your heart, won't tell no other

And though I can't recall your face

I still got love for you

- Seven, Taylor Swift

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s nice.” Alice nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Can’t tonighttt got something...

Juls: what’s something

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

Juls: no :(

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Course.”

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

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

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

“Us?”

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

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

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

“So you want me to lie to her?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Looking back at it now, it makes sense.

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

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

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

“Were you scared?”

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

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

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

You smile, and he smiles, too.

“Why can’t we just stay in tonight?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her face lights up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll chat with him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

H: Found this cutie while browsing todayy

H: Looks familiar? ;)

“That’s definitely too much.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Told you it would work out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want, Ly?”

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

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

“I did promise that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello.” You shoot her a look.

Harry puts the pet down, “Hi.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's okay.” You tell her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gotcha.”

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know, maybe try calling?”

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

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

“That was a pause.”

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

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

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

“You’ve told me about him before.”

“Have I?” You blink at her. “When?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Almost four years.”

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

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

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

You chuckle. “Same.”

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

“Yup.”

“Was it because of distance and stuff?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fate.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because they were, after all, a bit tacky.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sugarcane juice?” Mitch raises his brows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Julia continues her inquiry, “Who is it?”

“Jul-”

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

“Julia, please.”

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

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

Blake gasps. “Harry!”

“I can’t believe you!”

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

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

“Please, don’t.”

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

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

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

Blake frowns. “What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

Mitch deadpans, “What’s this, then?”

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

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

“Sounds marvelous,” Mitch adds.

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

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

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

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

Harry loves Sundays.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They look lovely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Still embarrassing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That was sweet.”

You sigh, “That was unexpected.”

“Thought that kinda thing happened a lot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry frowns. “Except it’s not.”

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

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

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

Him? “Me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Love-”

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

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

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

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

You nod. “Pretty much, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You should probably get that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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miraculouscontent · 3 years

Text

Ask Explo--

...you know what, you’re right. Name change effective immediately.

Askplosion #10:

(unrelated to everything by the way but I DEMAND THE ANON WHO MENTIONED “REMARRIED EMPRESS” A WHILE BACK COME FORTH AND ANSWER FOR THEIR CRIMES. IT’S SO GOOD BUT IT’S UNFINISHED AND I’M HOOKED, HOW DARE YOU)

Asks responding to previous posts:

It’s okay! I figured that was what it was but it’s been so loooong.

Ah, wow.

Um, that’s definitely not a part 2; I think that’s more like a four-parter/five-parter or something.

Sorry! No can do!

That’s totally fair!

I think the reason I so quickly agreed with it is like--

I’ve been watching the Inuyasha sequel and it’s not like I don’t think the narrative’s apparent punching bag Moroha (who is fourteen years old) shouldn’t be punished when she does something wrong/sneaky/manipulative, but they punish her as if she’s Miroku (who was eighteen years old).

Basically, I want the punishment to take the age into account, or at least only affect Marinette on a more personal level and not be “Heart Hunter” where they take totally understandable feelings of heartache (remember, it wouldn’t have mattered which miraculous she took because Hawk Moth got the Miracle Box and Fu regardless; even beyond her emotions, I feel like she chose the best option available to her considering which temps she knew the location of) and then punish her for them by memory wiping Fu and taking away all of her temps and giving Hawk Moth the grimoire translation.

Yes!! I really wanted to respond to this one, thank you! (It’s this one and then there was another one talking about Luka and Adrien, then talked to me about how I refer to Luka as “soft” but not in a bad way; I unfortunately don’t remember the whole thing.)

Ahaha, and yeah, I feel you. Anti-salters are a very strange conundrum I still haven’t figured out; like, I get not liking salt, but...

I mean, when I don’t like certain content, I just blacklist it. If I end up seeing it anyway due to cross-tagging or a lack of tagging, then I just blacklist the person themself. You won’t see me going after people for that very reason; I only see what people send/ask me if it’s content I don’t like.

I’m glad you’ve found some peace in this blog! Hopefully it continues to be that way for you in the future!

(and yay, a fellow INTJ!!)

New Asks:

There are female writers? ;P I just assumed they were all locked in a closet until the male ones were like, “okay, pretend to help us here, we need one female writer to claim girl power.”

As for Ladybug all like, “Cute, isn’t she?” I think it was rhetorical (she could also be messing with him but “Glaciator” tells us that she didn’t know he crushed on her so who knows). The writers do this thing where Marinette is all panic-y and occasionally self-conscious as herself, but then as Ladybug, she suddenly gets a bit of an ego. I think it’s meant to be there in order to make Chat Noir look less... idk, “obnoxious” when he starts boosting his own ego; trying to balance the two by giving them both big heads, so to speak.

Honestly, I feel like Adrien needs less screen time. :|

Even when he’s not on-screen, characters are usually talking about him, or you see his face in Marinette’s room/somewhere in Paris. I’m become so jaded by the guy that I don’t even think it’d matter if they remade the series and gave it a “totally good and interesting Adrien.” That’s how badly the show has made him out for me; “Adrien Agreste” the character is just... sigh, I’m so done with him.

And yeah, this whole idea about, “Marinette is [x], we need more AAAAAADRIEN!” comes off really bad, lol, especially when Adrien has very little going for him.

(this ask ends off like there should be a part 2 but there isn’t one in my inbox, so sorry if there’s meant to be something else!)

The exact lyrics according to the wiki:

My wish for a cat who's in love, with our own Ladybug. Is that he'll get what he's always wanted! She doesn't know she loves him, only sees Adrien, But Christmas miracles always happen!

Yeah, especially nowadays, those lines bothers me. Not only does it imply “true selves,” but that it’s Chat who should be getting what he always wanted and Ladybug is the one with a problem.

Like, excuse me?

Probably Stormy Weather, even in the first episode. Ladybug and Chat Noir couldn’t even touch her until they arrived on top of the TV station.

+ With all those effects and shots, it made it feel more action-y than typical episodes.

Marinette, Aurore, Luka, Anarka, Jagged...

basically any name that I haven’t really heard before (”Luka” makes me think of Vocaloid but the Luka there was female), or a name that relates a lot to the character (like “Aurore” for “aurora” since she loves weather things).

dfjbghfkdgfdgnjfdg this anon really like, “I NEED ANSWERS!!!”

It’s as if these characters hit 18 or something and just grow overnight, I swear. I’m hypothetically fine with some more variety in character height (it’s not like the show tries to be realistic, after all), but maybe don’t give us official heights if they’re gonna be this weird/inaccurate.

Especially when they change it just for the sake of a shot anyway. If you watch “Simon Says” when Ladybug and Adrien stand next to each other while looking at the picture of Adrien’s mother, the very next close-up has an obvious difference in their heights from what you just saw.

They’re 3D models!!! This shouldn’t happen!

I... honestly never thought of the “less threatening” thing! Dang!

And yeah, Marinette isn’t helpless or incompetent, but because of the Adrien crush, it makes her that way at times since she’s always falling on him and--

...ugh, actually, yeah, don’t wanna think about those implications. Hard pass.

Gross.

I’m not familiar with that one, though Astruc deletes his tweets all the time (there was one tweet where he confirmed that Luka was poor and it only exists in screenshots now because it didn’t get archived and he deleted it almost like he realized that he was pointing out the blatant classism in the show, oops).

Yeah though, I haven’t seen anything like what you’re describing. Sorry!

It’s okay! Sorry for having you clarify but him choosing and Marinette deciding to never give it back are very different things.

I don’t recall Chat Noir having much purpose in the final fight (in terms of both contributing and actual fighting; I know Cataclysm broke the object to release the akuma but was it needed?) so Marinette might either go cat-less or get a temp. Plagg could also be helpful in his own right because he’s small and blends in with the night, so he could hypothetically sneak up on the bad guy.

Afterwards, there’d need to be a new cat, but Adrien would also have to reconsider his actions and really think about what happened. I could also see Plagg going to Adrien’s house, half to apologize for giving the idea to Adrien that Adrien leave without telling Ladybug, but also half to call him out for giving up without consulting anyone. Adrien is a lot of conflicting things (see Adrien’s passivity compared to Chat Noir’s recklessness) so he’d have to find a middle ground within himself.

Marinette might carry Plagg around in her purse for a while and let Plagg have a say in who he goes to. Plagg might grieve for a bit over not having Adrien around (even if Adrien was flawed, Plagg didn’t ask for any of this so Marinette is doing her best here).

O-oh.

That’s always the rough patch with “endgame ships.” Once it’s obvious to the audience that they’re endgame, no more effort needs to be put into them.

The other thing too is how Kagami, for example, is friends with Marinette. Even once Adrimi sinks, she’ll presumably stay friends with her. Luka, meanwhile, is Juleka’s brother.

They have lives outside of their love interests. Adrien is so into Ladybug that he doesn’t have that; I mean, Nino is Adrien’s best friend like once in a blue moon.

The entire class is just watching an episode and then calling on raised hands to answer what was wrong with what they just watched.

“Everything?”

“I mean, yes, but I’m sorry, you have to be more specific to get credit.”

I think Aeon herself is fine. It’s mostly just her transformed and that transformed name that I have a problem with (she doesn’t even look uncanny so I don’t get it). I heard there was something wrong with the name “Aeon” but searching the name doesn’t give me anything I would qualify as such so I have no idea. I just wish she was given a little less “I’m programmed to--” (makes her seem less sentient) and more “[anything that doesn’t have to do with pushing the love square]” because I feel like they might’ve done the latter to make her more “likable”? I think fans of anything usually like the “matchmaker” character provided it’s for a ship they like. Also strange that they make her a robot but Max and Markov don’t extensively interact with her, but that’s a nitpick and not a criticism of her character.

...I’m rambling, my bad lol.

(Ohhh, she was supposed to be a mummy? Like, foreshadowing her “dying”?? That went right over my head but I guess that’d be where the name Uncanny Valley came from? No clue.)

Best case scenario is probably the middle or the end of Season 4.

And yeah, it really doesn’t matter to me what they do with the love square. Marinette had gone through too much suffering and the show goes out of its way to show how much stress Marinette is being put under (and also keeping Luka away during episodes like “Gamer 2.0″ even when it makes sense for them to be there, as if trying to make sure Marinette doesn’t have enough moments with him to forget Adrien).

Like, ah, yes, I totally believe that Marinette is in a position where she can make reasonable decisions about her love life while all circles of her life are on fire.

If the Sonic movie of all things can have an interracial couple, there’s no reason why this show can’t, just saying.

And, even with Marinette, she’s white-passing (according to what basically everyone says, I’m really awful about recognizing race so this isn’t my field; I wasn’t aware that Ondine was Asian, for example).

Does Nadja count? Manon’s dark-skinned (I’m still not over the fact that all the kids in this show are dark-skinned; it’s not like it’s a problem from a representation standpoint - though all the kids are also all generically bratty/whiny so there’s that - but the percentages in this show are weird) while Nadja is really light-skinned, meaning either a dark-skinned husband or Manon is adopted.

Though I guess the problem then is that we don’t know, so there’s no established couple there.

Non-Miraculous Asks:

w-who gave you the right to say such things????

Uhhhh, that might be too broad of a question, I’m sorry!

I know this isn’t satisfactory, but I will say that my favorite genre is Fantasy/Romance (it’s why I adore Red Shoes so much; by the way, an anon asked for my opinion on that a while back and I will get to it! I’d need to watch it again to get screenshots) and my least favorite is probably Tragedy/Horror.

I don’t think I’ve watched enough to really be able to say? I’ve kind of been all over but I’ve never fully gone through any of them outside of Miraculous. I’ve seen bits of Sailor Moon, Tokyo Mew Mew, Star VS the Forces of Evil (don’t know if that counts), and I meant to watch Yuki Yuna is a Hero but never got around to it. I saw the entirety of Puella Magi Madoka Magica but you guys know how I feel about that one.

Maybe Cardcaptor Sakura by default then? It was definitely not perfect but I liked some of the character dynamics (I also have a clipcut of it - basically where I go through a series/movie and cut out parts I don’t like so it’s only good stuff - so I’m cheating a little) and the male love interest was a tsundere type that I actually ended up liking, which is really rare.

!!! That sounds sweet~ I know Sailor Moon is popular so I’ll definitely take your word for it on that one.

I would also accept a “reincarnated”/”destined lovers” trope if maybe the ship themselves are the one who set it up in the first place. I have a Lukanette AU, for example, where they basically got together and then prayed to the shrine of the renewal god that they’d “always be together,” which ended up allowing them to reincarnate over and over (as if they set up their own soulmate AU ;P) and continuously find each other.

Though I guess that’s not technically a “meant to be trope,” but still, it’s a form of it but where it was totally consensual on both sides.

Also, I finally thought of a show that ended with the ship I wanted: Gargoyles. I didn’t see the entire series, mind you, but I saw most of it and Goliath and Elisa were just... quality, I adored them.

+ With Beauty and the Beast being my favorite Disney movie, they fit right in with my tastes.

I forget that AangToph (I think the “official” name for the ship is Taang, but don’t quote me on that) exists sometimes, maybe because I’ve never shipped Aang with anyone; I’ve got no problems with the ship though.

Ugh, and this is what I mean when I talk about people who set up these reasons behind people shipping something based on what they saw a few people do. It’s like, “you only ship Adrimi/Lukanette to spite Adrienette!!”

Meanwhile, me having shipped all three at one point and then dropped off the love square.

Also, me shipping Zutara has nothing to do with it being dark/edgy because I’ve never seen it that way (intriguing, sure but dark and edgy? lol) and also avoid dark/edgy ships like the plague.

I still laugh at people who are like, “you can’t ship it because it’s not endgaaaaame!” as if shows can dictate how and why I enjoy something. Like sure, if you want to let a show/movie spoonfeed you how you’re supposed to feel, then by all means, go ahead.

I suppose people may be theoretically happier that way, but it doesn’t make for an analytic mind.

I legitimately thought that “AssClass” must’ve been the actual name for something until it registered with me what it actually meant.

And eh, I guess it depends on the comparison and how accurate the comparison actually is? Like, comparing Puella Magic Madoka Magica to Miraculous... they’re not really close at all, but comparing... idk, Bunnyx to Homura or the concept behind “backfiring wishes”... maybe?

(note that the rest of this post is more Puella Magi Madoka Magica salt so you can stop reading here if you’re not interested in that; I’m not sure if this is all the same anon but I don’t mind letting people vent so I let them go off~)

why can’t we just have nice things

I agree, and I give a little eyeroll every time it’s like, “oh, this person had [miraculous]”

+ even just in general, I feel weird about any show that mentions/implies that real world famous people are [x] or [y] in their show. It breaks my immersion; real world locations are one thing but when it’s specific people (unless they’re made up characters like Santa Claus) or games just--break me.

I also don’t know what to think when there aren’t magical boys but you have these magical girls in this frilly outfits/skirts. The demographic is girls so I presume the reason must be like, “you can look pretty and still beat people up” (;P) but having so many magical girl shows without a hint of a magical boy makes me suspicious that it’s for fanservice. Sailor Moon has Tuxedo Mask but I also don’t know what that guy did outside of the meme of him doing nothing so I’ve got no clue.

(edit: I should correct myself that I’m not talking about Sailor Moon specifically; I don’t know magical girls that well, though I do know there are ones clearly intended for fanservice (you could say that for anything, to be fair, but still). It’s just that I see things like super short skirts or very “questionable” shots and I’m just like, “hm”)

Hmmm, good question. I feel like there has to be a lot but I’m also the type who doesn’t watch a lot of TV lol. I’m just familiar with cliches and tropes and such.

The reason I try not to use “ism”s of any kind is mostly because it’s too broad. Like, you know how the English language only has one way of saying, “I love you,” but other languages like Spanish have multiple?

It’s like that, and sometimes I think it’s too easy to throw those words out there. A “small” (possibly completely unintentional/misunderstood) offense is sexism, and then a “large” offense is called the exact same thing. I’d rather go into why something is sexist than just call it that, y’know? The only exception I make is “classism” because I feel like that’s not as... I dunno, divisive?

Anyway, for that same reason, I can’t answer firmly that, “Madoka Magica is sexist.” I will however say that it makes me uncomfortable with how the show makes out the girls being emotional because they’re young and female and then proceeds to make their life a living hell before they’re old enough to properly answer to it (I know that’s the point but that kind of makes it worse?). It doesn’t help with how all the girls have different personalities, so it’s not like you have only “crybaby girls” who are being taken advantage of; it’s basically like... all girls.

Not helped is the fact that their soul gem not only deteriorates naturally, but it can also do so faster if the girl falls into despair, which then turns them into a monster (and I know it’s kind of like an akuma thing, but the fact that it’s only girls is... I dunno, it comes off wrong?). It seems cheap that the soul gem deteriorates no matter what so it constantly needs fed even if the girl is consistently happy.

I would probably opt for the show being centered more around Kyubey being new to this or something - like, magical girls are a new thing - and then have Kyubey being surprised because they presumed that the soul gem would deteriorate naturally since “emotions are powerful but destructive to the person having them,” but then all the girls team up and help each other work out their problems. Maybe the reason magical girls are usually alone isn’t even because of the grief seed (I think that’s what it’s called?) thing not being able to be shared, but because Kyubey intentionally separates magical girls so they can’t do what the main group is doing, but Madoka is so into the idea that, “We shouldn’t have to be alone,” and so she’s constantly pulling all the girls together, which keeps them healthy.

Maybe Homura’s backstory could be that Madoka originally was more sheepish and more afraid to put herself out there, especially since she was a magical girl (who are encouraged to go it alone), which is why their soul gems were both deteriorating; they were friends but kept more of a distance, or maybe they were a team but that’s all they were. Then Madoka gives Homura the last grief seed to save her and that’s what inspires Homura and makes her see Madoka as something more than a teammate, which is why Homura actively tries to save Madoka specifically (which then encourages Madoka to want to keep everyone together as friends).

In the case that Kyubey doesn’t separate them out of concern of fRiEnDsHiP, but for another reason altogether, and then it’s ultimately their own downfall when they allow the girls to hang out and realize that it’s doing a lot of good for them.

“cute and innocent”

That was exactly it. It’s on Kyubey’s trivia section on the Puella Magi Madoka Magica Wiki.

Before the anime's first dark plot twist aired, head writer Gen Urobuchi said on his Twitter account that the "Kyu" in Kyubey's name comes from the English word "cute". This was a lie meant to further mislead fans into thinking that Madoka Magica is an innocent happy show. In a later episode, it was revealed that "Kyubey" is, in fact, short for "incubator".

In my personal opinion, a spoiled plot can’t be “ruined” if it’s a good plot. If you told me that Kagome was trapped in the Modern era for three years and then decided to stay with Inuyasha at the end of Inuyasha, it wouldn’t/shouldn’t decrease the value when I finally see it for myself because it’s good. That’s not to say that everything should just be spoiled right out of the gate, but it’s saying that maybe your plot isn’t good if you have to rely on shock value to make it work??

I FEEL THAT “ASSIGNING IT TO THE WHOLE GENDER” THING SO BAD. It just adds to my “the girls all have varying personalities so it’s not like Kyubey’s only after emotional crybabies or anything” salt.

I have no idea about any of the stuff about the writers so I can’t confirm or deny them. I will very much agree on the target audience thing though, especially with the whole “keeping the dark plot a secret” because really? Who is this for then? Like, the first two and a half episodes are for one demographic and then the others are--???

I dunno. Me personally, I just like feel good stories. I do like some good conflict and drama (for context, Remarried Empress is basically a webtoon that gives you things to feel salty about and then makes its own salt fic as its plot, allowing for endless streams of feels and catharsis, so I’m definitely not against drama), but there are other times where I just want to feel good watching something.

I feel like the show expects the characters to be selfless/perfect and then punishes them even though it’s their writing that’s causing them to act out. I can’t really talking about “out-of-character” but sometimes it’s just obvious where “we did this because we needed a plot/conflict.”

Like, hello? We don’t need the main characters screwing up; why can’t we just have some feel good thing where they take the day for themselves (seriously, imagine a Miraculous episode where Chat Noir actually tells Ladybug to take a couple days for herself, like maybe someone else gets the earrings for a few days as a temp while Marinette gets to breathe; IMAGINE IT). Not everything needs to be high-stakes to be interesting and you need those calmer moments so that the action-packed ones feel more intense.

SAYAKA DESERVES BETTER.

I feel like the magical girl genre as a whole can be way more complex than it’s made out to be. I think people hear the word “magical girl” and think “cute girls in short skirts talk about girl problems and fight evil with the power of friendship and accessories.”

Ugh, just the mention of Rebellion makes me sigh internally.

Congrats on working on your own magical girl story! I hope it goes well for you!

I know it’s not technically a magical girl show, but there was also Totally Spies that Astruc worked on to some degree (I think there was some characters who were based on/a loose reference to the mains from that show but I don’t remember exactly).

The thing about the female characters suffering is that they could make for good lessons on positively directing one’s emotions (like Usagi from Sailor Moon, for example, maybe having a problem with taking her anger out on her friends, but learns that she can save that rage for the bad guys; “Gamer 2.0″ from Miraculous could’ve done that, honestly, by having Ladybug absolutely WRECK all of her gaming opponents in “violent” (cartoon violence obviously) fashion). It’s just a shame that it’s not taken advantage of.

Sayaka??? Selfish???????

*does not compute*

(Also, I wasn’t tired of them, don’t worry! It was a little overwhelming in my inbox but it’s me who’s allowing all the asks to flow in so the blame isn’t on you lol.)

I’m not sure where this obsession came from with, “you have to be selfless and you’re not allowed to use your powers for yourself.” It’s like the world’s going to end if a character leaves to go Self-Care or something. I think what happened is that shows got this idea that promoting only the giving of others is great and it’s not important to take time for yourself (even with “Gamer 2.0,” it was still Marinette playing games with everyone else, and they treated her dedication and seriousness like a bad thing when she literally did not have time to waste and they didn’t give a reason why it was good for her to take a break, only that she should).

This usually leads to the “demonization” of characters who sport a lot of self-confidence or any sort of ego. It works on both sides; Marinette is a punching bag because of her anxiety and occasional lack of confidence, but if she had an ego as Ladybug, there are parts of the fandom who deem her “obnoxious” (i.e: “Reflekdoll”). There’s a delicate balance between “be confident” and “be humble” and it’s a tightrope act.

#((Yes! This strategy works for not losing asks.))#((In other news--))#((I gotta test out this new microphone so I wanna do a ''Voiced Askplosion'' where I record my answers instead of writing them))#((Anyone who sends me a 🎤 alongside their asks will get a voiced response next time!))#((I probably can't answer everything but you know how it is~))#(((i swear that someone is going to do it just to see if they can get me to swear when I read out their asks)))#((or... like--))#((''ok i don't actually have a question''))#((''but plz say the words 'adrien and marinette are meant to be' because i want to hear how much u struggle to say it''))#category: salt #other: non ml talk #category: ramble #character: Marinette Dupain Cheng #category: fandom #episode: Evillustrator #character: Chat Noir #character: Ladybug #character: Adrien Agreste #character: Stormy Weather #category: me myself and i #category: staff #relationship: Adrien Agreste & Marinette Dupain Cheng #character: Aeon #character: Uncanny Valley #relationship: love square #MC's Renders #render: persona

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cyberaxolotl · 3 years

Text

Tricks Over Treats

two versions woo hee

and then the writing piece to go along with it

“An Alternate Desire”

For an all popular DJ, he had a lot more to know about him than what was known to the public, some of which stayed shrouded in mystery to even his boyfriend and closest friends. One of the things he did make very clear to anyone who saw him around that time of year was that he was a HUGE fan of Halloween. Spooky jack-o-lanterns, sweets, costumes, he still thoroughly enjoyed it, even as an adult. He loved remixing classic Halloween tunes to add a more techno vibe to them, and that wasn’t going to change any time soon. And finally, he loved the scares; he was willing to be a bit sick around that time of year with his jokes, as anything scary was widely accepted and usually expected.

Especially not now, when there’s a Halloween party for all the musicians in Rhythm Heaven to attend, as well as any plus 1’s they might wish to have with them. Hosted by the rap men (obviously) and having as many different types of music as you could think of playing one after the other in the main hall, it was going to be a great party to have a good laugh. And for everyone to see any friends they had made since the Battle Of The Bands.

DJ Yellow, of course, had Blue with him. While his boyfriend wasn’t the biggest fan of that scary time of year, he still enjoyed talking to some of the others and seeing them all happy.

“I need to put my costume on in the car, but I’ll be inside in just a moment!” DJ Yellow said, nudging his partner while they were in the entrance hall.

“…Why didn’t you just put it on while we were at the apartment?” Blue asked, turning around. His costume itself was rather plain, he was just dressed as a vampire with a little bit of fake blood on his chin, but he was perfectly happy with that. It was one of the few times of year when he’d go out with his dreadlocks down, too.

“Cause! I wanted it to be a surprise for you too!” Deej gave a quick finger gun, before slipping out the door. His boyfriend sighed, feeling only mildly inconvenienced that he’d need to be alone at a party for a few minutes, and moreover very anxious. He never was one for direct social interaction.

As he walked into the main hall, he was immediately addressed. “Heeey, Blue!” A happy sounding, higher pitched voice called out to him, and he immediately knew who it was. “Where’s Yellow?” B.B. Rocker asked him, standing shorter than him and only around his chest height.

“Yellow’s in the car putting his costume on. Chances are, he just forgot to put it on at home.” He replied, looking down at his friend. They wore a costume that was… on the stranger side, but not out of character for them. It was an orange-white tabby cat suit with a denim dress put on over it, a pair of matching cat ears sitting in their ginger hair. They looked rather cute, if Blue’s bisexual ass could say so himself.

“Ah, so did J.J. He’s getting changed in the bathroom.” They turned away, looking down another hallway in the back of that room.

Blue sighed. “Oh boy…”

“What?”

“J.J.’s here, Yellow’s gonna be here soon. Chances are sometime in the night that is not going to end well.” He folded his arms, glancing away. There were certainly a lot of people there, like MC Adore and her love posse all in matching costumes, the Pop Singer Yui in a cutesy zombie outfit, and apparently even the rap women had managed to slip in, as Rosebud and Sapphie were happily talking to a trio of ghosts. What stood out to him, though, was the fact that the rap men were nowhere to be seen. If they were hosting that gig, they should’ve either been in the entrance hall greeting people, or in the main hall talking.

“Oh, you’re right. Guess we’ll just have to hope they don’t directly cross paths and say something shitty to each other, huh?” B.B. sighed as well, holding the back of their neck.

“You know it’s more likely for J.J. to say something shitty than for Yellow to. Yellow’s not an asshole, he’s just a…” Blue went quiet as he lost his words.

“…A snarky asshole?”

“That.” He motioned in confirmation to them. He looked back over at the rap women, noticing that the Big Rock Finish ghosts were leaving. “I’m gonna go ask the rap women where their brothers are, if Yellow comes in, tell him I’ll be right back.”

“Alrighty!” With that, he walked away, leaving B.B. by the entrance.

As he got closer to the snack table, he was able to tell what Rosebud and Sapphie were wearing as costumes. They were matching, as expected from the two of them, and had gone for a western theme. Rosebud was dressed as a saloon dancer, a crimson skirt falling to the back of her ankles and a corset tied around her waist. It also seemed that she had taken the opportunity to wear something only a bit more revealing than her usual outfits. Sapphie was dressed as a cowgirl, hiding her eyes in the shadow of a ten gallon hat, and wearing open bottom pants. The two certainly matched, but had their own ways of doing it, the mutual color palette between their costumes tying it together.

“Excuse me, girls?” He asked, and the two turned over to face him.

“Oh, hi Blue.” Sapphie humbly waved at him, smiling. “Do you need something?”

“I don’t, but I want to ask- where are your brothers?” The two ladies' expressions tensed.

“Jasper and Goldie? Uh…” Rosebud’s eyebrows furrowed. “…I don’t know, actually. Sapphire?” She looked up at her girlfriend.

The taller woman shrugged. “I haven’t seen either of them since they left the recording studio, but they’re probably somewhere around here. Sorry, Blue.”

“Hm.” Blue looked skeptical, glancing behind him. “Alright then. I need to go back to B.B., you two have fun.” He turned around, his dreadlocks nearly whipping him in the face.

“Bye-bye!” Rosebud said as he walked away.

When he got back over to his rock student friend, they looked confused. “Is something wrong, B.B?” He asked, and they turned to him.

“No, no, nothing. Just… JJ is taking an awful long while to put his costume on. He went in just before you arrived.” They put a hand behind their head, “We’re supposed to be a cat and a dog, so he might be struggling with the suit or something.”

“Now that you mention it, if Yellow is taking this long to put it on, then he really should’ve put it on at the apartment-“

As if on cue, the door opened, and DJ Yellow slid in overdramatically. Since nobody noticed him except BB and Blue, he got up in one quick motion, turning over to them. “Hey guys!” He said happily, walking over. His costume was made of… really dark colors, something completely out of character for him. It was all black with a dark red cape that made his neck completely covered, looking completely out of place while paired with his unaltered hair and headphones. For reasons neither of them could decipher, he also carried a lit jack-o-lantern.

“Hey Yellow..?” BB raised an eyebrow, giving a short wave.

“…” Blue spent several seconds trying to decipher what his lover was wearing, before sighing. “Yellow, what are you supposed to be?”

The DJ walked over and leaned against his taller counterpart’s arm as though he was trying to lean against his shoulder but was just too short to do so. “A surprise.”

“That’s what you said when you were putting ON the costume.” The sarcastic remark made Yellow chuckle.

“Yes, but what I’m gonna do in this costume is also a surprise.”

“Just tell us what the costume is, Deej!” The rockstar leaned in, and mysterious refusal after cryptic refusal soon descended into laughter and casual conversation. It was rare for Yellow to oblige to interact with BB, but Blue was glad that they could get along on a night like that.

But… he still couldn’t downplay it.

Something was wrong.

Or off.

Yellow didn’t sound like himself, nor did his mouth follow his words. His mouth had a delay compared to his words, as though his head and his voice box were working as two separate parts rather than as the same body. His voice sounded less like his smug and casual self was talking and more like some kind of modulation, as though a robot with his voice was reading from a script and trying to sound like a person.

Blue chalked it up to one of two things. One idea was that the tragedy striking Heaven World had hailed itself down to Earth World and struck the man right before him- they were called Alternates, and they took the places of people, making themselves look completely like them- except they had the ability to do things that were biologically impossible, like rip their head off and live, or be engulfed in flames and come out without a scar. Both of those things were examples that Heaven World had given out across the entire land, as they were things they had tried to do to kill Alternates. So far, though, the only way discovered to kill an Alternate was to stab it in the third eye, which appeared somewhere on the body and was usually a spot like the arm, neck, or leg.

What Alternates did with people was unknown, but all that was figured out was the disappearances of many, many real people, and the replacement and spreading of fake versions.

DJ Yellow was either an alternate… or pulling a sick joke and pretending to be one. It wasn’t far fetched to expect him to pull a downright awful joke like that at a Halloween party, so Blue shrugged it off like nothing, knowing that he was probably the only one at that party who paid attention to news from Heaven World. Considering that the DJ hadn’t started acting weird like that until they HAD reached the party, it seemed more logical than just immediately assuming the person before him was fake.

A few hours passed. Music played, fatty and sweet food was eaten, and musicians and their plus 1’s spoke to one another. Only a few minutes after their conversation had happened, the rap men entered the main hall from the back, dressed in matching costumes that looked like zombies. It depended on the person whether or not watching them question how the fuck their sisters had gotten in was entertaining or not, but the girls weren’t kicked out either way.

Everything seemed to be pulling together finely, until…

JJ and Yellow hadn’t seen each other at all that night, until at one point, the DJ was asked to get an alcoholic drink from the kitchen. The alcohol wasn’t out freely at the snack tables, just to make sure nobody accidentally drank liquor or beer over dyed punch, so people would usually ask their partner to get a drink for them from the back.

JJ was returning from the back hall just as Yellow was descending down it, and it seemed the rockstar couldn’t resist a small remark. “And what are you supposed to be?” He said as the two were about to cross paths.

DJ Yellow stopped in his place, a cocky smirk on his face. “The headless horseman, obviously.” He held up the jack-o-lantern, holding it in front of his head.

“You have a head, DJ.” The other musician glared, raising an eyebrow.

There was a sudden tension in the air as the two realized they were alone in that hallway, and the door to the main hall was completely shut. “You think so?” Yellow turned his head and raised an eyebrow. Before JJ could even say anything-

He thrust the jack-o-lantern backwards.

It slammed into his head and he fell backwards, the lit candle squishing against his face and setting his hair on fire, hot wax falling onto his skin. JJ was stunned silent as he watched DJ Yellow’s body stand up without his head, leaving the smoldering wax and flesh on the floor. “Isn’t this a funny costume, JJ?” All of the remnants of his original voice were replaced by the whispering, fake voice of an alternate person.

“Wh- wha- what the fuck-?!” The rockstar couldn’t scream, he could only let out hushed curses. What he saw didn’t feel real in the slightest. As the other man stood up, he could see that the place where his head and his neck had separated held no arteries or bones, but only one bloodshot yellow eye. Blood leaked down his neck as his head smoldered in flames, melting as though it in itself was made of wax.

DJ Yellow stood back up. He turned around and picked up the pile of wax, human flesh, and pumpkin flesh, shaping it back together with his hands. “The look on your face- I don’t think I’ve ever been more entertained!” He laughed, “You’d never believe how long I’ve been waiting to pull that trick. I love being in the body of someone who finds jokes funny!” With that, he put his head back on his neck, tying his cape carefully so that the blood of his neck was veiled.

He walked right up to the rockstar’s face, leaning close.

“Be lucky this isn’t Heaven World.”

so yeah there’s your “yellow becomes a fucking cryptid” writing piece lmao

#rhythm heaven #dj school #rhythm tengoku #dj yellow #rap men #rap women #the rockers #horror writing #gore tw #tw gore #tw dark content #edners 2021 month of macabre art #chances are this is stuffed with typos i don’t proofread lmao

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risingsouls · 3 years

Text

Recruited: Chapter 12

[Just in time for Sinday, this chapter is more self-indulgent smut! It has a point. It really does. And the end is wholesome-ish. So you know. :3 Probably cheesy again but what can ya do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

EDIT: wow knew I would do that. It’s not sinday. I mean it is somewhere. But whatever. I hit post.]

Vegeta

"You're okay with Raditz going to find his brother?"

Vegeta snorted, checking the numbers on his key again to ensure they were still heading in the proper direction. "It's no big loss to us. He'll be the one taking the hit to his pay." He turned the corner and Nabooru followed, their rooms grouped together.

They had arrived at their destination a day early and, at the behest of the other two Saiyans, he agreed to using the down time as a last hurrah for Raditz before his trip to a planet called Earth. Round trip, they expected him to be away nearing half a year, two months to leave their current location to make it to Earth and around four to return to the base they were currently stationed at. And that was if they weren’t moved.

"Raditz is more useful than you give him credit for. And don't give me that, 'he's weak' excuse. He's been running with you guys for decades and done fine. He's not so bad."

Vegeta ignored her, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "If this brother of his exists, he's likely dead." He paused in front of the door matching the number on his key and slipped it into the slot. The door slid open. "Or he failed what should have been an easy mission for even a child to accomplish, meaning he's worthless to us."

He only spared a glance over his shoulder when she followed him into the room. "Then, what's the point of him going?"

"There probably isn't one. But another Saiyan is another Saiyan. If he's out there, it means more firepower for us." Against Frieza. Whatever challenges they faced beyond usurping the tyrant. He knew he didn't need to voice these things; she would catch on.

The Gerudo crossed the room and perched on the edge of the bed, palms pressed into the mattress behind her. He narrowed his eyes briefly, but huffed and strode to the window. "Mm, makes sense. Never know what we may face down the line."

"Precisely." He allowed his tail to slip from around his waist. "Anything else you need?"

"No." He glanced over his shoulder, the corners of his lips drooping further downward and dark brows lowered. She tilted her head back and, seeing his deadpan expression, amended, "I mean, not really. Just wanted to...talk."

“Talk,” he repeated, disbelief dripping from his tone. His tail swayed in content arcs. He smirked and turned back toward the bed, arms folded over his chest. “Well, go on then. Talk.”

She scrunched her nose and flopped down on the mattress, her head hanging over the edge. His eyes remained fixed on hers in silent challenge and he could see the gears working behind those golden eyes, struggling to come up with a viable topic of conversation when chatter wasn’t on her mind. For some time after their first tryst, they both successfully remained faithful to maintaining the only once rule. For a time, that single coupling seemed to sate his physical desire for sex in general as well as how it had revolved specifically around fooling around with her. After disposing of the gloves he foolishly left on during, as her scent lingered too strongly on the leather even after washing them, everything returned to normal. The fantasies died down. She invaded his dreams less often, the return of his nightmares somehow better and less of a distraction. He didn’t leave their spars frustrated, craving the nearest cold shower or body of water he could hunt down. His behavior, his insatiable cravings, disgusted him. He felt weak and lacking control of his own body.

Thus, when he finally caved, bent her over the bed, and finally indulged, his issues seemed remedied. Months went by without incident and he was convinced his theory worked, pure professionalism between them returned. Until a spar got too heated. Until they both drank more than they should. Until their “harmless” flirtations and teasing or an argument ignited more in the pair of them than a passing flare of desire. At the very least, they remained infrequent. Few and far between. Quick and with as little extra contact as possible.

He chuckled, switching his scouter off and removing it. He closed the gap between himself and the bed and did the same with hers, keenly aware of her head next to his thigh as he did. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood."

"That's what I was hoping for." She grinned up at him and he rolled his eyes. He headed for the bathroom and dropped the scouters off in the furthest corner, shutting the door behind him upon his return. Nabooru had pushed herself back up to a seated position. "When you barely argued with Nappa and Raditz, I figured you were either in a decent mood or tired. I gambled on the former."

Vegeta grunted and peeled his gloves off, a process closely watched by the woman seated on his bed biting her lip. He didn't understand it, but he had noted her odd fascination with the simple, innocuous gesture. He didn't bother asking her about it either; time with Nappa and Raditz exposed him to all manner of kinks and fetishes that were far stranger and disgusting than this. He tossed them to the side and his armor followed.

"You know," Nabooru lifted her backside off the mattress and returned to the edge in front of him, "if you'll let me, I have a few tricks to out to put you in an even better mood."

"Tch, learn that line from Nappa and Raditz? That's what they say about me after I fuck you, isn't it? That was already the plan."

Her bottom lip poked out slightly, her brows knitting together. "You're good at ruining my mood," she huffed. "And I don't want to hear it. You're the one that confirmed it for them with your damn bragging."

Vegeta cocked his head back and laughed. "It was worth it to see the looks on their faces. They're at least smart enough to keep their big mouths shut about it."

His attention snapped back to her, a jolt of pleasure shooting from the tip of his tail. In his mirth, his traitorous tail swept out from behind him and toward Nabooru. The end rested in her palm, and her thumb caressed along the fur. Heat flooded his cheeks and he whipped the appendage away from her. Understanding flashed in her eyes, and he cursed his carelessness as he returned his tail to his waist.

She at least had the good sense not to prod him about it, and resumed to her previous ramblings. "If they knew you hadn't seen me naked, I'm not sure they would be as impressed," she said. She extended her hand out and trailed her fingertips along to bottom hem of his battle suit's top. "It's almost tragic we've always kept our clothes on."

"That's on purpose." He tried to ignore the brush of her fingertips, the invasive considerations his mind whipped up in light of her suggestion and how her touch would feel on his bare skin. "I only allow this because I need the release, which is pathetic enough."

"So, you don't actually like it when we have sex? It's just a chore?" She tore her gaze away from her finger tracing the indentations of his abdomen and glanced up at him. Her bottom lip protruded once more in a pout, but Vegeta saw a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

"Of course I like it! I--!"

She slid her hands beneath the spandex of his top and cut him off, and all his mind could manage to consider with coherence was how she still wore her gloves. Leather brushed over his abs and up to his chest and back down again before she removed them entirely. He tried to keep his features neutral, but judging by her soft giggle, he failed.

"Maybe if we switch things up just this once, we can change that. Rather than you just bending me over and fucking me from behind again." She peeled her gloves off with her teeth and kicked off her boots. She extended her leg out to his side, and he fell for the trap of allowing his eyes to follow her hands in their slow procession down her thigh, over her knee and calf, to remove her stocking. His tail unraveled from his waist again as she slipped the other off.

Bending her knees back in, she sat up tall once more, gratefully breaking his trance. She pulled her armor over her head with a pleased sigh and tossed it with his. "What the hell does it matter?" he asked. He crossed his arms as she released her crimson locks from her ponytail. "It's all the same result in the end."

"Wait. So this is just how you've always done it with every partner you've had?"

"Tch, you say that like I've had so many partners before you." He rolled his eyes, ready to kick her out with his waning patience. "But to answer your question, yes, to some degree or other."

Her silence on the matter only further tried his patience, as did the way she observed him with roving eyes and a minute tilt of her head. Warmth filtered into his cheeks again as his mind automatically assumed she judged him but was too cowardly to voice it since her expression only revealed some form of contemplation or another. His fingers twitched into his palms and, just as he decided to flip her over and shove her face into the mattress to get this over with and move on with his day, she stood and stepped forward, further closing the already minuscule gap between them. The difference in their height placed his line of sight directly on her ample chest, a detail he noted more readily without the near shapeless armor pulled over the battle suit. The skin tight fabric left little to the imagination, fitting snugly to her breasts and defining the musculature of her arms and abdomen. All details he never allowed himself to dwell on or appreciate. He had enough trouble keeping his mind off her in a sexual sense, and she wasn’t wrong in her assumption concerning his insistence on maintaining a strict routine when he succumbed to his base desires. He assumed the less tantalization he allowed--from what he saw and heard to the amount of contact and actions he permitted from her and those he took himself--the less likely he was to seek her out for meetings such as this. While the theory had some merit in the span of time he managed to maintain control, it still seemed flawed, considering his imagination still found purchase in lewd fantasies of her from time to time and he found himself fucking her more often than he thought he would.

Movement caused him to unintentionally flinch back. Her arms crossed as she grasped the hem of her top and she pulled it over her head, discarding it with the rest of her garments. She slid her briefs-style bottoms and tossed them aside, returning to her full height and resting her hands on her curvy hips. Once more his gaze locked in at eye level, staring at her exposed breasts and any protest from his former reservations went ignored. He drank in every inch of the exposed, bronzed skin, the scars littering her body in an array of sizes and shapes from a lifetime of fighting, her toned arms, legs, and thighs. His tail swept in content arcs behind him and his gaze trailed up her inner thighs and lingered at the juncture, the managed strip of red hair acting as an arrow to her slit.

His eyes snapped up to her face when she breathed a chuckle, reminding him of just how long he stared. Confidence poured from every inch of her, from the smirk on her lips and the spark in her eyes to the brush of her hair over her shoulder and the upward lift of her chest. It only added to her appeal. As much as part of him screamed to regain control, curiosity and lust won out; he wanted to see where she would take this. Experience all that he denied himself since early adulthood.

She leaned in and her lips brushed his ear, her breath tickling his skin behind his ear and on his neck, sending a chill up his spine, as she whispered, "Relax. You're so tense." Her fingertips swept along his jaw and settled in the center of his chest, eyes meeting his. "You can trust me, Vegeta."

"Can I?" He searched her face for any change, surprise or hesitancy in her claim, but her expression remained resolute. The tip of his tail glided along her outer thigh and wound around the back of it, swishing to caress the inside. He chuckled when she stifled her gasp by biting her lip. He didn't know how far he truly could trust her, not when he still struggled with fully trusting Nappa and Raditz. But he supposed with this he could. For the moment. A lust driven decision, perhaps, but one he didn't care to amend in the moment.

He stepped back and yanked his top off and his pants followed. His smirk returned. It was her turn to stare, her plush lips slightly parted. A further boost to his ego. "Fine. We'll do it your way this time."

"I really did catch you in a good mood." Her palms found his chest and shifted outward along the breadth of it, over his shoulders and down his arms and back up again. She shifted forward and dipped down to bury her face in the crook of his neck. He felt the wicked smirk of her lips when he stiffened at the mere graze of them on the sensitive, neglected area. She nipped at his neck, the jolt of pain a welcome mix with pleasure. "Or was that just because you finally got to see me naked?"

"You talk too much," Vegeta rumbled, head tilting to the side and successfully baiting her licks and bites up his neck. He grasped her ass and squeezed, kneading her cheeks with his palms. His tail ventured further up her inner thigh. He relished in the feel of her soft skin in his hands, pressed against his body. Her roving fingers and lips, her thigh brushing along his hip as she wrapped her free leg around his to coax him toward her, the places where their heated flesh met. She had him intoxicated already, but he shoved the associated panic away; he wanted more.

Nabooru hummed her amusement and awarded his gripe with a harsher nip at his neck. "If it's so horrible, I guess I'll just have to find something that keeps my lips and tongue too busy to talk," she said, hands gliding down his body. The rest of her followed suit, a trail of kisses between his pecs and down the center of his abdomen marking a path as she sank to her knees. She traced her index finger along his half-hard length, eyes hooded and chewing her lip. A shudder raced through him, a product of the contact and the sight of her kneeling before him and the lustful admiration in her eyes.

Her fingers wrapped around the base of his shift, her thumb caressing along the underside. She pressed her lips to the tip then parted them, gaze lifting to watch his as she rubbed the head over her tongue. He bit back a groan and the corners of her lips twisted up in a cheeky grin before she closed her mouth around him.

Her eyes closed, and her hum of appreciation as she slid his length further into her mouth and toward the back of her throat shocked him with the vibration, his whole body tense and heat coiling tightly in his lower abdomen already. She pulled back again until only the head remained in her mouth and opened her eyes again, staring up at him through long lashes. She repeated the motions in a slow, steady bob as if relishing his taste. His reactions, and her hand stroked the remaining half of the length she didn't swallow.

The sensations were wholly new to him, oral another practice he never allowed for the same reasons he kept his trysts as impersonal and quick as possible. The motion and the created friction itself. The moist warmth. The feel of her tongue and the movement that offset the bobbing. The gentle suction and occasional vibration from a hum. The top down view and the desire in her half-lidded gold eyes. He hadn't expected it to feel so different from just fucking her, but it was bliss. He discounted Nappa's and Raditz's lurid praise of it as exaggeration, their stories written off as more of their disgusting habits he wanted no part of. Not that it stopped his mind from imagining it, offering a dream amongst the nightmares in which someone--these days typically the woman currently pleasuring him--sucked him off. Vulnerable position be damned. If she bit his dick off or found some other way to kill him, so be it. It felt too good to stop her at this point.

Vegeta breathed a shuddering sigh and muttered curses under his breath as her ministrations already had him on the brink of a climax. He brushed stray strands of crimson out of her face, earning another appreciative hum around his cock, and he tangled his fingers into her hair. Perhaps sensing his oncoming release, Nabooru quickened her pace and occasionally took him deeper into her throat, another action he didn’t realize he wanted until she did it. His grip tightened in her hair and he grit his teeth, struggling just to keep his knees from buckling. She pulled off of him and allowed her hand to finish her work, her saliva acting as lubrication. Her free hand shifted behind him and wrapped around the base of his tail, another near sickening jolt of pleasure rushing from the pressure point. He growled a “Fuck!” and bowed forward, sharp canines bared as he came. His seed spilled from the tip in spurted rivulets, down his length and over her hand.

His breath hitched in his throat again and his cheeks warmed when she licked him clean with luxuriant strokes. She pulled back and she did the same with her hand, amusement shimmering in her golden eyes and a wicked smirk on her lips. It riled both his anger and desire.

"I thought you'd like that," she said, licking her lips once more and pushing up to her feet. "And you didn't--"

He didn't allow her to finish her statement. He didn't care to hear it. He shoved her onto the bed, knocking the wind out of her in a whoosh of air. He dropped a knee onto the mattress and grabbed her hips, yanking them back toward him and the edge of the bed. He caught a glimpse of the flash of shock on her features and the dawn of gleeful curiosity and her legs settled over his shoulders, her hair a streak of red behind her from being dragged toward him. He leaned in and lifted her hips up toward his face, the strong scent of her arousal and sight of her glistening slit stirring his own once more.

Eager to taste her, he flicked his tongue over the lips, along the full length of her slit, and swirled it around the clitoris at the apex. Though another first, a glance down her body to the woman propped up on her elbows and watching him told him he had a decent start. She bit her lip but he still picked up the stifled moan she held at bay, and he felt her muscles tense up as he sucked on the sensitive nub. He left it behind with another flick of his tongue and dipped down to her entrance. He pushed his tongue inside, nose pressing instead to her clit. He purred and swirled his tongue inside her, relishing her taste and the purposefully muffled sounds his ministrations elicited from her. Another passing wish that he could hear her let loose, moaning and screaming his name…

Her fingers wove into his onyx spikes, the sensation of her nails dragging along his scalp earning her a pleased purr and his tongue’s attention back on her clitoris. He released her thigh with one hand to plunge his middle and third fingers inside of her, pumping them in tandem with the rhythm of his licking and sucking. He watched her with a growing smirk. She pushed her hips toward him needily, and her chest rose and fell rapidly with her panting. Her other hand gripped a handful of sheets in her hands, threatening to tear. Her eyes begged him to bring her to a climax, saying what her lips could not without the risk of the entire floor hearing her. He considered halting altogether, teasing her mercilessly until she begged him for release.

Instead, he decided on a compromise, reminded of his own growing need when her heels dug into his back with the spasm of her muscles in her thighs, abdomen, around his fingers. He curled his fingers once more, flicked his tongue over the sensitive nub, and pulled back, giving her ass a firm squeeze and slap before dropping her on the bed. The prince laughed as she blinked and stared up at him, mouth hanging open.

He climbed on top of her the instant her expression shifted to annoyance, pinning her beneath his weight as he had so many times prior in their spars. This time, he didn't have to stop himself from indulging and taking full advantage of the sexual tension between them. He didn't have to hold back like he did then with the risk of an audience or as he did in their past relations. He didn't have to resist the urge to touch her. Lick her. Squeeze her. Bite her. Mark her. He could contend with tossing his inhibitions and control out the window later; for now he wanted to sate his hunger for her and make his idiotic fantasies a reality.

Vegeta swept his hands up her toned abdomen and cupped her breasts in his hands, massaging them and circling her raised nipples with his thumbs. She arched her spine to press into his touch, her head falling back and leaving her neck vulnerable. He dipped down and licked up the column of her throat, tasting her. He heard her whine as he dragged his teeth back down the same path, sharper canines just nicking through the surface of sensitive flesh in a thin scratch. He diverted his path to one side bit down, drawing a gasp from the Gerudo and blood from the bite. A dark chuckle rumbled in his throat as he lapped the sanguine liquid from her skin and sucked at the spot, her pulse drumming beneath his lips. A series of the same followed along her neck, the only disappointment in the fact that the higher collar of her battle suit would hide the tender splotches from view when she dressed.

Her arms circled around his broad shoulders. Reaching down, he positioned himself at her entrance, the moist warmth on his tip enough to put his teasing to rest. He pushed inside of her, a pleased growl rumbling in the back of his throat to the tune of her gracious praise and her nails digging into his skin. He nipped her neck a final time and pressed his hand into the mattress to push himself upright, the pain of her unintentional scratches over his shoulder blades pleasing. Grasp on her hips, he began a slow pace with powerful, deep thrusts, observing her. Deciding if he truly had missed anything with always preferring to fuck her from behind. Her writhing fanned her hair out around her like a fiery corona stark against white sheets. She wore a playful smile on her lips, and her gold eyes were once more hooded and roving along his body, perhaps doing the same as him. Her breasts bounced with each thrust and he once more admired the toned muscles of her belly. She moved her hips in tandem with his motions, and his focus was drawn to the sight of his cock driving in and out of her. He kept his new preference for seeing it from this side to himself, though if she paid attention, she would see how long his eyes lingered in the constantly disappearing space between them.

Her hum snatched his attention upward, and her back arched as she languidly lifted up from the mattress. Her thighs tightened around his waist and she straddled his lap, knees on either side of his thighs. “Don’t stop,” she breathed in response to his protesting growl, half-hearted in the wake of where the new position placed her breasts. Her hips continued to rock at the same pace they had established before, and her hands rested on his shoulders, head bowed over his. “Just trust me and keep fucking me.”

Adjusting his position, he slipped his grip to her ass and squeezed, giving one side a punishing slap for once more changing things up and, in his mind, overcomplicating the process. “If you didn’t feel so fucking good, I would stop for all your damn indecision,” he responded huskily, leaning in to catch a pert nipple in his mouth and causing her laughter to morph into a moan. He shoved his hips upward with more force, his own chuckle rumbling in his chest when her nails sank into his back and she buried her face in his hair.

The familiar heat coiled in his lower abdomen with the quicker pace and more powerful thrusts he implemented. The needy jerk of her hips and the tightening of her walls signaled the approach of her own orgasm and pushed him closer to his own. He swept a hand up to cup her breast, lips latching onto the other to tease her nipple with teeth and tongue. Within moments, she tossed her head back and just managed to slap her hand over her gaping mouth to stifle a pleasured scream, tremors racing through her body and her nails digging deeper into his skin.

The sound of her climax, the scent of blood and sex, the picturesque curve of her body in the throes of her orgasm were almost too much. Shoving her back again, he pinned her wrists above her head and pounded into her with reckless abandon, free hand and tail pushing her thighs toward her abdomen. His smirk grew as he witnessed her struggle to maintain the last dregs of discretion they could with their secret trysts, biting her lip but the whimpers still eeking through.

“Scream, woman,” he commanded. Confusion flashed over her flushed features and reminded him for a split second of the stupidity of it. Of the risk it invited. But he didn’t care. His addled brain convinced him he needed to hear her more than he needed to be careful. His grip on her wrists tightened and he reinforced his demand with a rougher pace. “I want to hear you scream my name.”

Perhaps tired of holding back herself, the tension that always loomed over their coupling dissipated with his okay to let loose. She arched against his restraints and let out a full-bodied moan, hearing one properly pushing him to speed up the thrust of his hips to elicit more and earn that scream he desired. His hand slipped down her thigh to slap her backside again.

She writhed beneath him and she tensed again, her body snapping upward against his hand. “Fuck! Vegeta!”

It was like she pulled a trigger. With a final deep thrust and a roar, he came deep inside her, legs and arms threatening to give way beneath him and stars erupting over his vision. He released her wrists and thighs and his head fell forward, his breathing came in heavy pants and a hand planted near her head for support. He rolled his hips with hers as they rode out their orgasms, a purr vibrating in his throat with her mumbled praises.

The sensation of her fingers gliding up his back and into his hair again recalled his attention to her. "See?" She nipped his bottom lip. "That was fun, and if you try to tell me you didn't like it, I'll know you're lying."

"Hmpt…" The Saiyan pulled out of her and flopped onto the mattress next to her. "Of course it was enjoyable. Sex usually is to some degree."

He heard her snort and the bed shifted beneath them, and a glance over found her lying on her side propped up by her elbow. “Coming from the guy that lets himself get pent up to the point of near desperation?” Vegeta shot her a glare to which she grinned in the face of. “It’s a little hard to believe you think that at all. But I guess I’ve seen the proof firsthand multiple times now.”

“You spend too much time with Nappa and Raditz. It has warped your perception.”

She hummed and his entire body bristled when she idly caressed the tip of his tail as it passed her by in its content swooping along the sheets between them. “You’re probably right. Even though I don’t partake, it’s easy to forget not everyone wants to constantly use sex as a form a relaxation. Escape...or a distraction...”

Vegeta eyed her a moment longer, the last two a suspected confession than an observation. He didn’t care what purpose the sex served for her; he couldn’t say his motives for caving to his desires were much different. He found that the window of time offered him a moment of reprieve from his troubles: facing Frieza and the seeming impossibility of the task, conquering planets for a tyrant instead of his own empire, how he and his cohorts could possibly bring glory back to the Saiyan race with only three possibly four still living. As a bonus, she eliminated the daunting and annoying task of tracking down a favorable partner he felt worthy of his time. Far pickier about who he let warm his bed than his cohorts, the prince welcomed the ease seeking Nabooru out offered him.

He laced his fingers behind his head and averted his gaze to the brightly painted ceiling. “Embarrassing as it is for me, I suppose they could have worse vices. And soon we’ll thankfully only have to deal with Nappa’s idiocy for a while.”

“Mm. It will be different…” She sat up and stretched her arms over her head, and he drank in the stunning sight of her torso fully extending upward and gentle arch of her back. The hint of a smirk tilted the corners of her full lips upward. “I guess I should go take a shower like I said I was going to. I’m sure we’ll have to hear it from the other two at this rate, if not for the time we’ve spent up here then for hearing me scream like that. Are you going to come down for a few drinks?”

“We’ll see.”

Nabooru rolled her eyes and began to climb over him, but paused and straddled his waist. She observed him with a tilt of her head, smirk still on her lips and biting her bottom lip. Vegeta felt the cursed fire in his cheek as his mind betrayed him and willed her to shift half a foot backward.

“What are you doing?” he grunted, considering shoving her off but not quite finding the will to do it. “Get the hell off and go take your shower.”

She dragged her nails lightly down his chest, a tingle racing down his spine. “Just checking something. I’ll definitely have to ride you properly next time.”

She leaned down and pressed her lips to his. A first--for him in his lifetime and certainly for the two of them together--that, if the way she pulled back a few inches after mere seconds and stared at him with wide eyes, appeared to surprise her as much as it did him. A habit for her, he surmised, one that the ease of their encounter coerced her into. One he stupidly found he didn't hate as the sensation of the pressure of her lips on his lingered. His frown deepened before he cupped her cheek and leaned up to return it. He felt her physically relax on top of him as the tension dissipated once more and they parted a moment later.

As she climbed off of him and slid off the bed, instinct placed the denial of a next time on the tip of his tongue, but he had to swallow it. How many times had he claimed the same and, months later, he succumbed again? He doubted this time would be any different, so he settled on a huff and watched her gather her battle suit and armor.

"You know, I was thinking…"

Vegeta snorted. "Isn't that what got us into this mess?"

She slid the bottoms of her battle suit up her calves and thighs, snapping them over her backside. "And you should be thanking me for that." Her arms and then her head disappeared into her top and she tugged it down. "But seriously. I was thinking about how, maybe when this is all over, you, Nappa, and Raditz could make Hyrule your home base. I'm sure you'll all get along with the Gerudo well. And..."

She trailed off and sat on the edge of the bed to slide her stockings back on. Her words caused him to shift up to his elbow and narrow his eyes slightly. She caught his gaze in the mirror across from them and rushed on. "I figured it might be nice for you guys to have somewhere you could call home after not having one for so long. A place to go in between...whatever you plan to do after."

“Getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren’t we? We barely have a plan,” he sneered, pushing himself upright to sit properly. His tail curled around his waist. In truth, he hadn’t considered such details of the future. Nothing horribly concrete, anyway. Killing Frieza and securing his empire for himself was as far as he had gotten. He hadn’t considered the idea of creating a new home for himself and the other two. And he wasn’t sure if it was simply because he had grown so used to jumping from base to base depending on where he and his cohorts were needed or if deep down, the cynical voice that occasionally overpowered his confidence and bravado had indeed convinced him his efforts to dethrone Frieza were pointless.

Considering her offer further, he didn’t doubt he and the other remaining Saiyans would fit in with her people. Being new to the Empire and recently conquered by the Gerudo, their loyalty to Frieza could be flimsy, making it a decent place to start for amassing his army as well. Many of Frieza’s loyalists would refuse to follow him so willingly, after all. And...perhaps a proper home wouldn’t be all that horrible. It would never be Planet Vegeta, but he at least was too young to have too much attachment to the planet itself anyway.

Nabooru swept her hair up toward the crown of her head and tied it in a loose ponytail. “I know. But I guess I can’t help but be optimistic.” She shrugged a shoulder and glanced back at him. “I want to go home. You want revenge and to take what you feel is rightfully yours. I think we’re both determined enough to succeed. And as far as that Super Saiyan thing goes, I feel if anyone can figure that out, it will be you.”

“Tch, of course I will. But that doesn’t mean you three can slack off and leave all the work to me.”

She snorted and pulled on her boots, rising to her feet and tugging her gloves over her hands. “I can’t speak for the other two, but I have every intention of keeping up with you. Maybe I’ll become a Super Gerudo.”

“Ha! We’ll see,” he taunted, smirk returning. If he unlocked the Super Saiyan transformation, she didn’t have a prayer in keeping up with his power, but he did admire her steadfast tenacity for improving. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching. “I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.”

“Wasn’t it you who specifically asked for my help with this?” She shot him a grin before disappearing into the bathroom and retrieving their scouters. She tossed the red to him and dangled her orange one from her index finger. "Must mean you think pretty highly of my prowess as a warrior, right? So why shouldn’t I be able to?"

"You do well enough for my purposes." Vegeta laughed at the annoyed tilt of her head and shoved passed her to the bathroom, keen on cleaning up himself. He would have enough to answer for without her scent lingering on him. “If you’re so determined, then you can spar me later. We’ll appease the fools and their stupid send off idea and then I can see just how close you are to making good on that claim of keeping up.”

“It has been awhile. I have been thinking about a few new techniques to try.” She hooked her armor over her forearm and strode to the door, her fingers lingering over the switch to open it. “You should think about what I said sometime, though. Even if not Hyrule or whatever number Frieza has given it by now...just knowing you have a home to go back to and a place to call home is….comforting.”

She didn’t wait around for his response, pressing the button and exiting the room. Vegeta gave the thought little more attention than he already had. Such sentimentality, such a longing would only hinder him at this point. If fighting to return to her planet, her home, motivated her to get stronger and aid him in toppling Frieza, so be it. For him, the word home had long since lost such meaning to him. He found his own comfort in dreaming of slaughtering Frieza and reclaiming what was meant to be his. In the freedom it would afford him to do as he pleased, to conquer for his own empire. Securing a proper home for him and the remaining Saiyans mattered little for the moment, a detail to be worked out upon his success and not a moment sooner. Or perhaps not at all, as the attachment would be a prime target for his enemies.

Vegeta clicked his tongue, closing the door behind him. He switched the shower on and stepped in, not bothering with adjusting the temperature or concerned with the frigid water pouring over him. He had no need for such distracting thoughts. The task at hand was daunting enough, improbable if not impossible. He had no room for thoughts outside of dealing with Frieza and surviving in the meantime. Though it would test his patience, he would end that bastard no matter how long it took. By whatever means necessary. Of that much he was sure.

#fic: recruited #// vegeta ♅#:: nabooru ☀#.:not sfw:.

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marshmallow-phd · 5 years

Text

Midnight Hours

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Summary: For you, being a good witch was easier said than done. Something dark was lurking inside of you and the others knew it. When you’re forced to tag along with Soomi and help a local wolfpack face a coming evil, you’re sent on a path that breaks into a crossroads. While you struggle with your inner demons, could the wolf Sehun be the key to your ultimate fate?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I 16 I 17 I Final

It’d been a week since you were first forced to come here and… well, it hadn’t actually been that bad, to be perfectly honest. Yes, the house shook whenever a wolf or two decided they needed to run through the rooms or down the hall and quiet meals were nonexistent, but you got used to it after a while. The constant chatter and music in the house became background noise that lulled you to sleep.

The other note – whether a high one or a low one, you were still debating – was the fact that you’d successfully been able to avoid the orange haired wolf named Sehun. Meal times seemed to be the only interaction you got – if it could even be called that. The two of you were in the same room, but sat far away from each other, usually on opposite sides of the table. Sometimes, he wouldn’t sit down at the table at all, instead opting for the rarely used island seats.

Occasionally, eye contact would be made between the two of you before both of you swiftly looked away and pretended the incident never took place. As elated as you were to not have to converse with the insufferable wolf, you had an odd feeling that it wasn’t completely one sided. You couldn’t help but notice how quickly he left the room and how he seemed to disappear for hours at a time, sometimes not coming home until well after dinner. There wasn’t much to do around here and as far as you knew, the wolves preferred to keep to themselves, so you didn’t think he would be hanging out with people from town. Your curiosity too strong to ignore, you decided to ask one of the others where he was going.

“Who knows,” Baekhyun shrugged, never losing focus on the video game in front of him. “He’s always disappearing these days and he never really answers us when we ask.”

“I’m getting worried about him,” Tao said from where he was lounging on the couch. It was one of the rare moments that you didn’t see Lottie with him as well, so you figured she must have had work or something else that kept her away from the farmhouse.

Resting your elbows on the back on the couch, you leaned forward and asked, “Why’s that?”

“He’s the only one who’s not mated.”

You jumped at the additional voice, not needing to turn around to see who’d emerged from their room.

Kris somewhat intimidated you. If his height wasn’t imposing enough, his deep voice – especially when he was scolding another member of the pack – added heavily to the mixture. The only times you’d seen him soften was when he was with his daughter or Evie. Whenever they came around, the hardness visibly melted away.

“Wish he’d hurry up and get mated,” Baekhyun muttered. He starting hitting the buttons on the controller with a little too much force. “Maybe then he’d stop giving everyone else crap.”

Kris smirked. “From what I hear, you deserve it, considering all the crap you gave Minseok and Yixing.”

“It was out of love,” the gamer insisted.

“Sure, it was. Keep it down, okay? I just got Mei down for a nap.”

Baekhyun sent him a mock salute. “You got it, daddy-o.”

Kris shook his head, keeping whatever comment was brewing in his head to himself as he ascended the stairs.

So was that what Sehun’s problem was? You should’ve concluded earlier that he was the only one left given that everyone else seemed to be paired off, but there were so many bodies here at any given time, they had a tendency to blur together. That didn’t mean that he needed to take it out on you, though.

He did apologize.

Kind of, you argued with yourself. It was a lame apology, but it was there nonetheless.

Blowing out air from between your lips, you pushed off the couch and headed up the stairs. You weren’t entirely sure where your feet were headed, only that you were letting them take you wherever they saw fit. And for some odd reason, they decided it would be a nice day to go outside. The air wasn’t too bad, if a little musty from an oncoming storm developing in the distance. You weren’t sure if it would make it this far, but you were sure the rain would be beautiful among the trees if it did.

Out of the corner of your eye you spot the side door to the garage wide open. Muttered curses and clanking metal escaped from inside. Your two options were to either continue on into the forest outstretched before you or investigate the source of the noise. Without thinking twice, you opted for door number two, quietly sneaking into the garage with as little noise as possible.

One of the fancier cars was sitting up on a pair of black plastic ramps. From underneath, a pair of long legs dressed in tattered skinny jeans with grease stains stuck out on the dirty concrete floor. Whoever was muttering under the engine hadn’t realized that they were no longer alone. You stood there awkwardly for a minute or two before making you presence know. “Do you need any help?”

Bang! “Ow!”

You flinched, knowing full well that that was your fault. “Oops. Sorry.”

The mechanic squirmed their way out from under the car and sat up, finally giving you a view of their face. Oh, great.

Sehun massaged the spot on his forehead that had connected with metal as he squinted up at you. “What are you doing here?”

You could have asked him the same thing. Wasn’t he supposed to be out running around on four paws avoiding the house and its occupants? Biting back the sarcastic answer, you decided to be a bit more civil this time around and shrugged. “I was bored and the door was open.”

Sehun shook his head and went back under the car. “Well, why don’t you go have a vision somewhere and leave me alone?”

“They don’t work like that,” you spat. Looking around, you saw that this place was any car enthusiast’s dream. The vehicles lined up ranged anywhere from vintage classics to shiny luxury brands. Shiny tools and gas canisters that suspiciously looked like NOS were scattered around the outer edges. How were they able to afford all this?

“Then how do they work?” he asked, pulling you from your observation. You blinked. Was he actually going to have a conversation with you? A civilized one, at that?

Interested in seeing where this would go, you leaned up against the tool bench, the sharp edge of the counter digging into your back. You crossed your arms and replied, “I’m not entirely sure. They just kind of come when they want to. A bit annoying, actually.”

The tinkering sounds of a wrench stopped. “So, you really have no control over them?”

“No, I don’t,” you confirmed. “I wish I did. Then I’d just make them stop.”

“So, you don’t like knowing what’s going to happen?” Sehun continued on with whatever he was working.

“It hasn’t exactly been showing me the future, not how most people would expect, anyway.” You were surprised by how easy it was to talk about this, especially with Sehun, a werewolf that you hardly knew. Then again, you’d never really needed to explain how the visions work before. While the power wasn’t exactly common among witches, it wasn’t entirely unheard of either, so most knew the basics of how they worked. “Sometimes, it’s a scene - a short one with zero context – or it’s a feeling. That’s how they started out. Most of the time, I can’t make heads or tails of what I’m seeing.”

“That… really sucks,” Sehun said sympathetically. It took you by surprise. You figured he’d throw another sarcastic fastball at you like that night in the kitchen.

Staring down at the ground, you muttered, “Yeah, it does.”

“So,” Sehun said after a long pause, “besides the blood moon and the blonde woman, have you seen anything else in these visions?”

You don’t know why, but your cheeks suddenly burned at the question. The only thing you had seen was the wolf. However, thinking back on it, the moment felt so intimate, you didn’t want to share. Was it one of these wolves you’d been with? You cleared your throat and answered somewhat honestly, “Yeah, there was a white wolf at one point.”

The clanging of the wrench hitting the floor echoed off the steel walls of the garage. What was that about?

“Do any of you have white fur?” you asked cautiously.

“Yeah,” Sehun replied quietly. “Me and Luhan.”

Luhan. The one with the hunter mate – er, ex-hunter mate. You had a strong feeling that it wasn’t him. Which only left…. “Oh.”

“Was the wolf… doing anything?”

“No,” you said a little too quickly. “No, he was just… there. Just sitting there. Only him. No one- Nothing else.” Way to play it cool.

Pushing himself out from his spot, Sehun sat up and looked at you. “Do you like white wolves?”

“What?” you scoffed. “W-why would I like white wolves? Why would I like wolves in general? Technically, our species are enemies.”

Sehun raised a challenging eyebrow. “And yet, who created who? Kind of hypocritical, wouldn’t you say?”

Honestly, you’d never really thought about it. Not in too much detail, anyway. The animosity was just something you’d accepted. “You… have point.”

“It’s kind of like the monster Frankenstein,” he continued. “A witch made werewolves, but then the witch turned around and was scared of what she’d made.”

You ignored the second part of his statement to keep from starting a fight. The history between wolves and witches was long and tangled, each side having a slightly different story than the other. You’d never really paid attention to that part of class, though. History wasn’t exactly your favorite subject. Literature on the other hand…. “Technically, Frankenstein was the doctor. The monster never had a name.”

Sehun stared at you for the longest with an unreadable expression. He didn’t seem angry or annoyed at your correction. The way his brow crinkled gave you the impression that he was thinking hard about something and you hardly doubted that it was his memory over the original sci-fi thriller.

With a soft grunt, he pushed himself off the floor and stalked towards you, coming closer until there were mere centimeters between you. Heat radiated from him. You could feel it flow through both his black t-shirt and your own blouse, warming you up to the point you thought you would break out in a sweat. His eyes stayed trained on you. The dark brown irises flickered back and forth as if searching for something hidden in your face. Your heart was beating erratically in your chest and you prayed that even with his sensitive hearing that he wouldn’t be able to pick up on it. That quivering feeling in your stomach that you’d gotten back in the kitchen that first night was back, stronger and more forceful than ever. Why was your body reacting to him like this?

Sehun leaned in farther, causing you to lean back as well to keep the safe distance between you. He had you trapped in a cage made of his arms, steadfastly planted on either side of you. There was nowhere to run. You couldn’t go any farther, but you didn’t want to. You could feel his breath against your skin and his face had blurred in your vision from the closeness.

In a soft voice that you had to strain to pick up on, he questioned, “Who’s to say the doctor wasn’t the real monster?”

You couldn’t answer him. All airflow in your throat had stopped. He came in more and your eyes slowly began to close, though only slightly. Only a millimeter more and your lips would brush. How would he taste? Would he be sweet like the forbidden fruit? Could a witch and a wolf-

In a second he was gone, snatching a screwdriver off the counter behind you and walking back cockily to his spot on the floor. Breath refilled your lungs. But there was no way in hell you were even going to acknowledge the stunt he’d just pulled.

Clearing your throat, you half scoffed, half coughed as you said, “You’re really going to use the cliché argument that’s discussed in English classes all over the country?”

Sehun lazily rose one shoulder and dropped it. “Got me an A at the time.”

You snorted. “In what? Your second year of high school?”

Just as he opened his mouth to give you an escalated retort, a soft voice called out for you.

“(y/n)? Are you in here?” Soomi cautiously stepped in through the door as if she wasn’t allowed in this building. Her worried expression evolved into a smile once she caught sight of you. Thank goodness she hadn’t shown up only a minute or two prior. “There you are. I thought we might go ahead and squeeze in a lesson today.” She looked over to see that you weren’t alone. “Oh, hello, Sehun.”

Sehun waved at her with the screw driver. “Hey, Soomi.”

You jutted out your jaw, annoyed. He was always so much nicer to her. Yes, technically, he’d known her longer, but she was a witch, too. If you were going to hold some hostility towards a group a people, shouldn’t it at least be equal?

“Let’s go,” you grumbled and you walked out of there passed Soomi. As soon as your feet hit grass, however, you skidded to a stop.

A new car you hadn’t seen before pulled into the front yard before cutting the endgine. The driver’s side door opened and a girl with tanned skin wavy chocolate hair stepped out.

“Kita!”

Junmyeon burst out through the front door and practically jumped off the porch as he ran to the girl who’d just arrive – so this was his mate.

Soomi was frozen beside you as Junmyeon picked his mate up and twirled her around. Happiness, complete unadulterated joy, was evident all over his face. The girl – Kita – was just as ecstatic as she pulled him in for a quick kiss.

Grabbing Soomi’s arm, you tried to pull her away from the scene as you whispered, “Come on. Let’s go.”

But it was too late. You were spotted by Junmyeon before you could escape. If it was any consolation prize, the tiniest bit of guilt was written on his face at the display of affection that just took place. “Soomi, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

Plastering on the fakest smile you’d ever seen her wear, Soomi waved a hand frantically. “No, no, don’t be sorry! It’s good see you’re back, Kita. (y/n) and I were just going inside to have a lesson, don’t mind us.”

“Well, that sounds interesting,” Kita said sincerely. You kind of wished she didn’t seem so sweet so you could actually dislike her. Logic was stopping you from that as well. She had no choice in matter either, so why be mad at her.

“Welp, we’ll see you guys later!” With a firmer grip, you tugged Soomi away, practically dragging her up the steps and inside the house. You didn’t let go until the two of you were seated at the kitchen table. For once the eating area was completely empty and you were grateful. Studying her face for any hint of a lie, you asked, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted.

You didn’t believe her. “I still think we should have stayed somewhere else. It’s never too late, you know.”

Okay, so you were also trying to convince her not only for the sake of her own heart, but for yourself as well.

After that encounter in the garage, you were worried about things… escalating. You were finding that you had very little self-control when it came to Sehun. If anyone else had dared come that close to you, they would have been walking away with a black eye. Yet, you were so close to touching his lips. You were afraid that next time neither of you would pull away. And you refused to be the wolf’s fun chew toy.

Soomi shook her head as she opened to botany book she’d been carrying. “Why do you want to leave so badly?”

“Why don’t you?” you whispered harshly. “You don’t have to put yourself through this.”

In a rare show of frustration, Soomi slammed her hand down on the table. “I’m not putting myself through anything, (y/n). I am not hung up on something that never even happened in the first place. Now, please, drop it and let’s get into your lesson.”

You’d never seen her upset like that. Soomi was always able to keep her calm no matter what. You had really touched a nerve by pushing and you were regretting it immensely. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she somewhat smiled at you. “I know it’s because you care and I’m thankful for that.” Dropping the subject completely, she turned to the chapter she’d opened the book to and started explaining what wonderfully boring plant she’d be talking about today. Usually you spaced out or thought about other things while she talked, but today you stayed concentrated, actively engaging in conversation to make her happy.

Over the course of the next hour, the kitchen slowly began to fill with people. A few of the wolves, Kyungsoo and Chanyeol mostly, began working on dinner while a couple of curious mates sat at the table with you, listening intently to Soomi’s lesson. She answered every question they threw at her and it was obvious by her face that she enjoyed having attentive ears around her. When Junmyeon and Kita came in from the back door, you noticed Soomi barely looked in their direction. Sehun entered at some point as well, sniffing the air as if that was what brought him in here in the first place.

Just as the lesson finished up and the book was closed, one of the quieter mates – Dana – came running into the kitchen from the living room.

“We have a problem,” she announced through heavy breaths. Kyungsoo was by her side in a second.

“What is it?” He searched all over to make sure that she wasn’t injured in any way.

“I’m fine,” she said, gently pushing his hands away. “But I just got off the phone. Mina’s coming.”

“Mina’s coming?” Kyungsoo frowned. “What do you mean she’s coming?”

“Here. I mean she’s coming here. To town.” Dana ran a hand through her hair, worried. “She’s coming to visit me.”

The wolves and mates in the room exchanged troubled glances. Everyone else seemed to understand why this was such a big deal, but you were at an utter loss. So, you asked the first question that came to your mind, hoping to get a few answers.

“Who the hell is Mina?”

#exo #exo wolf au #exo wolf!au #sehun x reader #oh sehun #exo werewolf!au #exo werewolf au #exo supernatural au #exo series #Midnight Hours #untamed wolf universe

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lady-olive-oil · 5 years

Text

BSB: Chapter 7

[THANK HANUMAN IT’S WORKING. The struggle I went through to get this out. Make sure you share it: like and critique is already appreciated. THANK YOU GUYS!]

Warnings for the sexual encounter, will be in bold black letters leading up to the event itself.

Warnings: sexual themes [wrap it before you tap it] & language

WC: 3.9K [I SNAPPED]

It seemed as though everything around them, seized to stop. The only noise that could be heard, was the sound of their heartbeats and gentle moans. A few soft caresses and effortless tugs on one another, neither of them wanted this moment to stop.

“It’s too quiet in there. They’re either; about to get it on or actually there isn’t anything else they could be doing.” T’Challa always knew when to stop while he was a ahead and most of the time his words come out confusing is stressful times. But then time however, the group agreed with him.

“Finally. The girls on the dance team owe me $20 each for this.” Nattie smirked gently and back away from the door.

Nakia has a mischievous look in her eyes, upon glancing at Erik.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, my love?” Arching her brow, she earned a smirk from him.

“If you’re thinking about going after Sean, then great minds think alike.” Erik pulled her close and kissed her nose.

“Exactly what I was thinking. You guys wanna roll?” Nakia asked and rallied up the troops.

“Hell yeah. We’ll catch em tomorrow.” Nattie grabbed T’Challa’s hand and headed down the hall.

Back in the room, Nefe couldn’t help but love the feeling of M’Baku touching her, admiring the way his tall stature had engulfed hers. Without a shadow of a doubt, she didn’t want to leave. He lifted her off the floor, to hoist her legs around his waist.

“M’Baku!” The squeal that left her lips, was a genuine one. His soft laugh echoed after her, keeping her back angled on the wall, continuing his tender pecks along her neck.

“Yes my love?” He let all his emotion take over and wasn’t ashamed to do so.

His lips trailed kisses up and down her heated neck, receiving compassionate praises from his love. He never thought they’d get to this point. Yet here they were; locked in a tight embrace, bodies shaking in desire and want. Never wanting to let go.

“W-we should stop…” Nefe’s voice betrayed her yearning to be closer to him as much as she wanted. As quick as road runner running away from Wil E. Coyote, M’Baku had pinned his lady against the deep red duvet on her bed.

M’Baku froze in place, glancing into her eyes as they conveyed mixed emotions. He nuzzled his hair against hers, gaining a giggle.

“Are we going too fast? I don’t want to do anything you weren’t comfortable with-”

“M’Baku, shhh. We can still do this, trust me I’ve been dreaming of it.” She pecks his full wanting lips gently, holding his face to convey her emotions to him.

“As have I, malkia wangu. (My love)” he whispered back before sitting up with her in his lap, holding on tight. After years of just being friends a true and honest kiss happened. One that was better than before.

“I still want you. I will always want you, yet I want to do this the right way. How about a date?” She suggested, tracing his strong jawline with her fingernails.

“A date? I have an even better idea. How about a weekend in New Orleans, just the two of us?” The tone he had whilst suggesting this spontaneous trip, made Nefe purr like a kitten in heat. She never thought she would ever get this point in time with someone she only considered her best friend. This time around she went with her heart.

“Hmm. A mini trip to Nola huh? Sounds wonderful to me, I’d love to go on a trip with you M’Baku.”

“Wait really? Truthfully?” He couldn’t believe his ears or his eyes. He had a goddess among men in his hands and just enjoyed the moment for as long as he could.

“Why would I lie? I may hide a few things but I’d never lie. This has been a long time coming M’Baku, and I’m going in with my heart. We’d have to take it slow.” Nuzzling into his neck with pleasant gesture, she meant every word.

“Then it’s settled. This weekend, you and me, are going to New Orleans for much...needed...getaway.” Emphasizing each word with a gentle kiss along neck, she erupted in a fit of giggles again.

“Baku! Stop it, that tickles.”

“I could listen to you laugh all day. But we must get back to our friends.”

With a delicate sigh, she nodded and shimmied off his lap, holding out her hand for him to take.

“Come on, great gorilla.”

“Coming, my Queen.”

This man did so much for her and vice versa, that she finally could see her true feelings shining through. Walking out of her room hand in hand, down towards the main foyer of the DST house, their fingers were locked in a sweet embrace. It just felt right for them

It seemed as though the party had died down, and everyone went home. Meeting up with the others at the house pool was convenient. Once everyone met up, the two were met by their group of friends, who all but seemed surprised by the two.

“Oh well lookie lookie.” Nattie grinned at them, while dusting off her silk red pj pants.

“Uh yeah. I’ll explain later, what happened to y’all?” Nefe asked with a quizzical look on her face.

Their friends had dirt patches on them in various places; a few hairs out of place, looking just rough.

“Alright I must ask this, who won?” M’Baku broke the silence and saw two hands raise up. Who did the hands belong to? None other than Erik and Nakia.

“Who was the fight with anyway?” Asked a perplexed Nefe, who rested her head on M’Baku’s shoulder.

“I’ll give you a guess..” Nattie mumbled and crossed her arms over her chest. Dragging the girls to the edge of the pool to just let their feet dangle in the water.

“You didn’t.”

“Oh but they did. They wiped the floor with his scrawny ass.” Nattie nodded in encouragement.

“He got knocked the fuck out!” Erik exclaimed in hysterics, still high from his recent escapades.

“Y’all are something else. Let’s just hope he won’t press charges.” Nefe pointed out as she felt a sudden change in heat by her right side.

“Y’all look cozy after all.” Okoye smiled happily.

“Mhm, too cozy. Spill it!” Nakia nugged Nefe and caused the group to erupt in laughter.

“Well we came to an agreement, a very hot agreement.” Nefe rolled her eyes and playfully hit M’Baku on his knee.

“It got quiet in there and we were worried-” T’Challa was cut off by Nattie hitting his arm.

“Y’all were by the door?! I can not believe y’all.” Nefe couldn’t help but picture her friends on the other side of the door, while softly laughing.

“But y’all did make up though right? You’re welcome.” Erik winked at Nefe and gained an eye roll, before M’Baku kissed her gently in front of them.

The whole group broke out in cheers and applause, causing the new couple to feel the heat rush to their faces.

“It may take some time to say it, but I know I feel it.” M’Baku admitted to Nefe, prompting her to hide her face in his neck.

“I know. I feel it too, don’t worry.”

“Now that’s that’s settled, what are everyone’s plans for this weekend?” T’Challa questioned as Nattie hands him another beer.

“Well, Nefe an di are going to New Orleans for the weekend. To you know, get to know each other more.” The cunning smirk that was etched M’Baku’s face was full of triumph and accomplishment.

“You don’t say? Well g’head playa.” Erik gave M’Baku a fist bump and T’Challa gave him a high five.

The girls giggled at Nefe and caused her to do the same.

He had earned his alone time with Nefe more than ever. It had been years leading up to this important weekend. From Friday to Monday, they’d be alone. In another city; in a hotel, surrounded and emerged in the love that is New Orleans. Nothing is going to ruin this trip.

“Little vacation ain’t hurt nobody. We’ll be back Monday night, right?” Nefe looked at M’Baku for confirmation.

Nodding at her with sincerity, he couldn’t get enough of how elegant she looked at this very moment. He was truly in love with how this gorgeous woman, had escaped her binds and fell into his arms. He thought he was in a deep slumber, but it was all reality.

“Make sure to take lots of pictures too.” Nattie reminded her.

“Can’t say you’ve been somewhere if you don’t take pictures.” Okoye pointed out as well.

As the height died down, the story of how Erik and Nakia got their hands on Sean was the biggest highlight of the night.

“So we just found him with Melanie, near the hookah machine right? Erik grabbed him and was like, ‘listen man. I don’t like how you’ve been treating my sister like you have.’ He was just going in.” Nattie explained

“And wasn’t having Erik be all in his face and shit either. So Sean was like ‘I don’t give a fuck. She’s my girl anyway. She’ll do as I tell her to. When you see her, tell her that a real man is looking for her’ and Erik just pushed him. Rammed him into the nearest tree and wailed on him.” Nakia exclaimed, the group chuckled at her impression of Sean.

“Next thing we know, he was fighting him near the fountain. Driving punches to his face left and right, like Adonis Creed. Sean tried to choke him out, but with the strength of the Black Panther-” T’Challa couldn’t help but laugh too hard, while explaining his part, that it caused him to start snorting.

“He winded up holding him underwater for a few seconds, before campus security came to tear them apart. That’s how we all ended up back here, along with a warning.” Okoye finished it off with grace.

“Y’all are wild. I can’t have a moment without y’all getting into something.”

“You have M’Baku to keep you happy now hun. We can handle ourselves.”

Nattie did have a point, even when Nefe didn’t want to admit it.

“I guess you’re right. Well, we all have to get up in the morning. Gotta leave early to head to Nola, y’all have volunteer hours. Tell professor Cunningham I’ll be gone and email me the assignments. My other professors know I’ll be gone.” Nefe dusted her shorts off, before kissing M’Baku’s head.

“We’ll keep y’all posted soon enough. If Erik goes to jail, we’ll bail him out.” Nakia made a promise and Erik scoffed, laying his arm around her neck.

“Good.”

The next few hours were restless for Nefe. She could hardly sleep and it was driving her mad. After a midnight snack, double stuffed Oreos and milk, she finally drifted off into a deep slumber.

-Next Morning-

“Ok. So I got at least four outfits just in case I decide to switch it up. Along with 3 pairs of shoes, one pair of heels that go with everything. Body stuff and I’m good.” Nefe was going through her weekend bag and noted everything she had and needed.

“Come on Nefe. We gotta go! Slow as shit.” M’Baku called up from the car, which was a black Tahoe.

“Boy if you don’t quit rushing me! I’m coming damnit!”

That’s how it went on for the next hour or so on the way up. Nefe was sound asleep in the passenger, the motion of the car lulled her to sleep. With a gentle smile, M’Baku moved a braid away from her face. Admiring her facial structure and how lucky he is to have her. After calling they’re friends to let them know that they’d made it safe to their hotel, M’Baku tucked Nefe into bed.

(Warning #1: Dirty part coming up soon)

The next few days were pure joy. From going down to the French Quarter; eating jambalaya, taking in a few live jazz shows, touring the bayou and enjoy all that New Orleans had to offer.

On their last night, they decided to have a romantic dinner. Brennan’s was recommended by Nefe’s parents highly. It had an amazing view of the street with all lights glistening in the southern sunset.

The dress Nefe wore, was a sleek golden yellow bodycon dress that left nothing to imagination. The sleeves accentuated her elongated arms; the bodice stuck to her curves in all the right places and angles. Making it appear to be painted on, the ruffles made her god given assets look glorious. Her shoes, were to die for. The black heels and gold accents made her look taller than before. M’Baku wore a matching golden yellow long sleeve shirt and a pair of black slacks, with a slick pair of yellow Stacy Adams to match.

“Damn we look good, but you my love are breathtaking.” He whispered gently in her ear, as they both took a picture together in the floor to ceiling mirror. The soft gesture caused the nubian goddess to chuckle elegantly. He half of the silver gorilla necklace was tucked into his shirt, so it wouldn’t make much noise.

“M’Baku my love, this is only the beginning of what is to come if you play your cards right.” Placing a delightful kiss upon his cheek, she dusted off his shoulders from any possible lint that was caught on his shoulders.

“Oh? You see more for us from here?” He watched her drift away from, bending over to grab her clutch. Great Hanuman, he thought to himself watching her more with grace and elegance.

“Why of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?” Adjusting her half of the silver gorilla necklace, that was gracefully placed upon her bosom, Nefe smiled at her dear friend.

“Well, you know my secret and why I am here. You don’t want me for my titles; my notoriety, the money. What do you desire from me?” The question hung in the air as gentle as a feather drifting in the breeze. The look on her face was unreadable, then shifted to a soft one.

Caressing his cheeks with her thumbs, she looked into his eyes with sincerity. Feeling the pain of his past wash over his face. Nefe could tell that M’Baku had been severely hurt by the women he’s dated in the past. Especially Melanie, which she depicted herself that she didn’t know he was a prince. That was just the icing on the cake.

“M’Baku, my forever love, we’ve known each other for years. My views on you haven’t changed then, and they won’t now. Just because you’re a prince doesn’t mean I expect anything less of you. You’ll always be my best friend no matter what, and if the timing is right maybe even your girlfriend. So on and so forth.” The way she explained made his heart flutter against his chest as he held her close.

“That makes me happy to hear you say that. Truthfully, and I couldn’t have asked for a better friend. Now how should I ask you to be mine?” taking her hands in his, he led her out of their hotel room, towards their car waiting for them to take them to Brennan’s.

“Depends on how you do after dinner.” with a sly smirk in his direction, M’baku was up for the challenge.

(Warning #2: Dirty part coming)

Dinner was absolutely amazing. The atmosphere; the company, the food was to die for. The icing on the cake was the dessert. M’Baku couldn’t wait to have Nefe all to himself on their king sized bed, back at the hotel.

He picked her up with ease, before getting into the elevator. Their hands were clawing at each other, for release. He hiked up her right leg around his waist and rolled his hips into hers, trailing his full thick lips against her heated neck.

“M’Baku…” Nefe groaned in a hushed tone, feeling her skin overheat in desire. Hearing the elevator ding, the two pulled apart and ran towards their room to continue their rendezvous.

Locking the door behind him M’Baku had sauntered over towards Nefe; unzipping her dress from the back. The fabric fell down her shoulders and pooled around her dainty feet. Leaving her in an all black silk and lace lingerie, that highlighted her curvaceous figure. Her skin illuminated in the moonlight of the French doors.

Facing him, she unbuttoned his yellow shirt and let it fall to the ground as well. Discarding the rest of their clothes, she pulled him closer to her body.

(Warning #3: Dirty part!!! Count to 60 or skip)

“My my. Aren’t you a sight behold. Glory to Hanuman..” M’Baku picked her up once more, pulling her into a lustful kiss that was knee buckling. Her moans were music to his ears, and he wanted to hear a symphony. Their actions were breathtaking even, and they didn’t come up but a few second before going back at it.

With the help of his phone, the soft melody of Floetry, Say Yes, played through the room as a soundtrack to the perfect night. Amongst other 90’s R&B jams to help set the mood.

Grinding her hips against him, he moaned against her lips, falling back on the bed between her delectable thighs. She looked down at him with a mischievous smile but it soon shifted when he flipped them over, having him on top.

As the kissing commenced, his lips traveled down her body. Making sure no skin was unkissed or groped.

“M’Baku you tease…ohh” her breathing was heavy and wanting, it hitched when she felt his tongue upon her bundle of nerve. Tugging and sucking relentlessly, as her nimble fingers gripped the back of his neck.

Her back arched like a bow, waiting to release its arrow, just as his tongue flickered with a swiftness and dipped in her heated treasure. Making her yelp in ecstasy, his digits moved faster and faster, her hips rotated against his skillful mouth. Changing her orgasm she finally calmed down, catching her breath.

“You-you’re too good at that.”

“I’m better at other’s things as well, my queen.” Licking his fingers clean of her essence, they eyed each other like lions in heat.

She beckoned him to come closer with her hooked index finger, and he obliged.

“Are you ready, my love?” He asked once more to make sure he didn't overstep her boundaries. Her consent was important to him above of all, next to pleasing her. She nodded her head gently.

“Yes my love. I need you.” Her body shook with desire and he was going to give it to her.

He made sure that the condom was on at least 3-4 times, you can never be too careful. He positioned himself at her heated entrance, holding her hips to glide in slowly to get her to adjust. It wa obvious that she hadn’t had a man the size of M’Baku before, it showed on her heated face as her eyes closed tight.

“Look at me, I need to see the elegant faces you make when you scream out into the heavens.” his lips ghosted against hers, her muscles adjusted to his size as she pulled him down to a hot searing kiss. He was sheathed fully inside of her, taking in the warmth of her body as they rocked back and forth under the royal purple silk sheets.

“Glory to Hanuman, you are tight.” Lacing their fingers together, placing her hands above her head, his speed increased.

The faces she made were indescribable. She kept her eyes on his like a pro, moving her hips with his in tandem. Once he let her hands go, they found purchase on his ebony skin and her nails clawed down his back. It motivated him to go harder and faster. They both earned this moment more than ever.

“Nefertiti…” He groaned out this time, and it stirred something deep within her that caused a rift. Her muscles contracted around him again, milking him for everything had.

There was a sudden empty feeling and it caused her pout. She was dripping literal honey and the scene before him caused M’Baku to grow harder. Flipping her over, her ass in the air and her face in the pillows, her expression changed quick. He slid into her again in this new position and went harder.

The noises that left her swollen lips, filled the room. Sure enough to alert their neighbors, but they didn’t care. Pushing her hips back on him, twerking a bit earned her a smack on her rounded ass.

“Shit!” She squealed and moaned again, leaning her head back. Letting her braids dance along her back, she glanced back at M’Baku like a cheetah on the hunt.

“You like that?” He whispered hotly in her ear, as he went faster. The movement she made, made him moan this time. Pure music to her ears, holding the back of his head close to her neck. They seemed to move closer by the second.

His chest was to her back, the both sat up and faced the mirror so strategically placed by the bathroom.

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be squeezing you like a python right now, now would I?” Her voice was strained as her head was on his shoulder, his lips were on her neck. Their bodies moved in sync, as both their highs approached. Watching him move in and out of her, covered in her essence, made her body grow hotter.

“A python has nothing on you, cause dear god woman you are exquisite.” His rough hands squeezed her heaving breasts, pinching her nipples to get her over faster. Reaching behind her, she grabbed a handful of his ass, clutching on to him for dear life. Sweat glistening their bodies as the euphoric ambiance took over them.

His rhythm was like poetry. Drawing her in like a Shakespearean sonnet on a hot summer day. His body fit against hers like a glove, snug and secure. Wrapping his arms around her fully, turning her head to kiss her with such force and heated tension. It was now his job to be her protector, and he was willing to take on the job.

He felt her body shake, a clear sign that she was close to her release.

“M’Baku, I can't hold it anymore.” She whined, her voice strained against his lips once more.

“Let go. I’m right behind you.” He gave her the clear to let go and once she did, he followed suit. Filling up the condom as much as he could. He slid out gently, tying the condom and tossing it away.

(You can come back now!!!)

Nefe laid there in pure bliss, and closed her eyes to feel her body tingling. She was still burning and the cool sheets made it better. She snuggled up against M’Baku, once he came back from the bathroom. The sheet stayed at their waists, as the sounds of soothing R&B careered the perfect atmosphere. She traced shapes on his chest, heading his heartbeat.

“That was better than I expected.” He finally spoke.

“Better than your expectations?” The gleaming look in her eye, was a pleasant one. Kissing her head, she felt prideful and full of love. Finally, she felt as though she was a woman.

“Way better. You, my queen, exceeded them. In fact, how about a second round?” Kissing her softly, she draped her leg around his waist and straddle him.

“This time, I lead~” Kissing him back with so much love and adoration, she trailed kisses down his body in return.

“Dear Hanuman…” He groaned, and kept his eyes on her the whole time.This was going to be a long hot night.

#mbaku x oc #wives of mbaku #mbaku x nefertiti adisa #nefertiti adisa #winston duke #amara la negra #brown sugah baby #BSB Chapter 7 #black panther #mbaku x reader

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arizonatotoronto · 5 years

Note

legalization of weed in canada means stoned sex.... right?😄

SO, I decided I wanted to do this prompt but with the boys making and eating edibles. NSFW!

(Everything in this particular headcanon comes from my own experiences and may differ from others’, of course.)

The legalization of weed in Canada is pretty cool, but not exactly life changing for Auston and most of the people he knows.

Like, it means he and Mitch can grow a plant or two if they want, but as far as Auston is concerned, anyone who'd wanted to smoke the stuff has been smoking it already, legal or not.

It's the truth for most of the team, anyway. Auston and Mitch included.

For the most part, Auston will smoke the occasional joint during the season if it's offered to him, and he's not super secretive about using it to relax while he's been nursing various injuries. Weed is fantastic for pain. It's something the NHL tests for, but doesn't exactly punish, and while Auston isn't huge on smoking while training or competing (he needs his lungs functioning at their max), it has its uses.

It's early into the 2018 season when Auston goes down with another fucking bummed shoulder. His friends suggest trying CBD oils, which would definitely help with the pain and are super easy to order online now -- which, yeah. Canada is awesome. There's also the bonus of not having to smoke it to reap the medicinal benefits.

The thing is, Auston's got some good bud laying around at home already, and a tried and true butter recipe that won't stink up the place too bad. It's been a pretty long time since he's had edibles, and just thinking about that amazing full-body high has him popping out to the grocery store to grab cheesecloth and cookie ingredients.

It's definitely not the kind of recipe his Mama had had in mind when she'd given him a Crockpot for Christmas the previous year, but what Ema Matthews doesn't know can't exactly hurt her.

Auston starts making the butter fairly early in the morning, because the longer it simmers, the better the results. Mitch comes home from morning skate to find him in the kitchen, stirring gently at the mixture of butter, weed, and water.

"What are you cooking?" he asks, coming up behind Auston and going up on his tiptoes to hook his chin over Auston's shoulder. He peers down into the Crockpot curiously.

"Hi, baby," Auston says. He presses a soft kiss to the side of Mitch's head, inhales the scent of the shampoo from the arena showers. "It's weed butter," he adds with a laugh, scoops up some of the melted butter and dried green leaves into a ladle for Mitch to see better.

"Oh, shit, seriously?"

"Mm," Auston says. "I haven't made it in forever. You ever had edibles?"

"No, actually," Mitch admits, but he looks interested, and Auston is sort of weirdly excited about maybe getting to share something new with him, if he'd be willing.

"I was thinking I'd make cookies. Like, obviously my mom can never know that we're using her famous recipe to make weed cookies, but."

"Obviously," Mitch echoes in solidarity. "This is cool. Can I help?"

"For sure," Auston says, and this time he's pretty sure his excitement is obvious in his voice. "There's not a lot to do until tonight. It's sort've gotta cook all day for max potency, and then we strain out all the weed bits with the cheesecloth and put the leftover liquid in the fridge so it can clarify."

"And then tomorrow it's butter?"

"Totally. And, like, it'll be *green*, too."

"Wicked," Mitch says, sort of reverantly.

"Do you, uh. Do you think you'll wanna try one? Of the cookies?" And like, Auston obviously doesn't care either way. Plenty of people find edibles intimidating, especially if they've heard stories about other people eating them and then having a bad time. But Auston's done this enough to sort of know how it goes, and he thinks Mitch will enjoy himself.

Mitch takes a moment to consider the question, his fingertips drumming against the countertop.

"It'll just be the two of us?" he asks finally.

"Of course, Mitchy. Whatever you want."

"And like. You'll tell me how much I should eat and stuff?"

"Half a cookie to start, babe, and we can go from there."

"I-- yeah. Yeah, we can-- okay."

"I think you'll like it," Auston says, because he does think so. Mitch enjoys being high when they get the chance, loves getting fucked high, too, and Auston can't wait to show him what it's like when it's a body-high instead -- every sensation amplified in the best way.

"Mm. So how was physio?"

They decide to eat the cookies when Mitch has two days off between home games.

Auston sets them up on the couch in his living room, stocks up on water bottles and takeout food so that they won't have to go anywhere. Mitch looks particularly comfy in a tshirt and a pair of Auston's sweats, cuffed at each ankle because of their height difference.

It's sweet. Mitch looks just... sweet. Eager and excited, as he always is when he gets to try something new with Auston that Auston has promised him will be fun.

He looks the tiniest bit nervous, maybe, too, which is pretty normal. Edibles can be an absolute trip if you have no idea what you're doing (and yeah, Auston's had a few weird experiences that he wouldn't repeat, let alone want Mitch to experience. He knows he can make this as good as possible for him.)

It's important to be somewhere you feel safe and comfortable, at least the first few times, Auston has told him. So they stick to just the two of them, cuddled together at Auston's -- where Mitch spends most of his time these days, anyway.

(That's definitely a conversation they need to have, and soon. It's been long enough now that Mitch really doesn't need to keep paying for a condo that sits empty more often than it doesn't. They're happy at Auston's, and just... Just the thought of Mitch having this safety net place, this backup plan, makes Auston's stomach squirm uncomfortably, go cold with dread.)

They end up baking only two of the cookies. Auston freezes the rest of the dough in pre-formed cookie lumps for later -- easy to throw into the toaster oven whenever they want one.

The cookies come out of the oven looking gooey and smelling fantastic. Mitch is sort of puzzled that he can't smell the weed, that they look just like normal cookies.

"I've kind of perfected the recipe," Auston tells him, feeling oddly proud. "I used to use coconut oil instead of butter, but this is way better."

"You've done this a lot, huh?" Mitch asks, and it's not judgey or anything -- Auston can tell that he's just curious.

"Honestly, I've made a lot more butter and baked a lot more cookies than I've actually eaten," Auston laughs, and then rolls his eyes as he adds, "Most of the guys from the Program weren't allowed to go anywhere near the oven. I got nominated."

"I can see why!" Mitch says, and Auston lets the smug grin spread across his face.

Auston has them eat a small meal before they get to the cookies. He remembers how not awesome it is to have edibles on an empty stomach, and Mitch eats his sandwich happily.

They have the cookies for dessert, standing barefoot in their sweats in Auston's kitchen.

"Half, right?" Mitch asks, his lower lip caught gently between his teeth.

"To start, yeah," Auston confirms, as he breaks Mitch's cookie and sets one piece aside. "We'll see how you feel in an hour. You might not need the other half."

"Okay," Mitch agrees easily. He takes his half of the cookie and looks it over, before tilting his head up to give Auston a small smile.

"Cheers?" He asks, holding the cookie out between them. Auston laughs, feeling so damn fond, and taps his whole cookie against Mitch's half.

"Cheers," he confirms.

Mitch takes a tentative little bite, his eyebrows drawn together like he's honestly expecting it to be gross, and then, "Oh," he says brightly. "That's not as bad as I thought."

"Nah," Auston says, and then he's tearing into his. "Tastes mostly just like cookies, huh?"

"I taste the weed a little bit," Mitch says, and shrugs. He finishes the rest of his piece, and adds, "But yeah. Mostly it's just cookies. Good cookies."

"I'll tell my mom you said so," Auston grins.

They end up on the couch, water and snacks in easy reach. Auston suggests a simple itinerary of video games, some Netflix binging, and maybe some music (which he knows Mitch will interpret as "making out while listening to music" because that's sort of their thing when they're high).

It takes just about an hour for the weed to start kicking in. They're wrapping up another round of Mario Tennis when Auston feels it, that tightness in his face, the tingles that start in his knees and spread slowly outward, like ripples.

He can literally feel himself relaxing in increments, body melting slowly into the couch. It's fucking awesome.

"Oh," Mitch says, around ten minutes later. "Wow, I think I-- yeah. Here we go."

Auston snorts a laugh at the look on Mitch's face, nervous and excited at the same time, like he's trying to decide how the early signs of his high are making him feel.

"Yeah?" Auston asks, interested. "You feel it, too, huh?"

"Yeah," Mitch echoes. "It's... Really, really weird. But a good weird, I think?"

It's early, yet, but they decide to set aside the video games for now. Auston thinks he'd much rather lay back and just let it ride at this point, maybe with an episode of The Office on in the background. Something they've seen before, mindless without requiring too much focus.

He switches the TV over to their Netflix and takes a few minutes to decide on the perfect episode. Before long, he's queueing up "Company Picnic" with a cursory glance over at Mitch.

Mitch, unsurprisingly, is in enthusiastic agreement.

He's pretty quiet throughout the episode, but Auston isn't too concerned by it. Mitch always goes near-silent and contemplative when he's high, and this time he's got so much more sensation to focus on than he's used to. Auston is absolutely in love with getting to see it all play out on Mitch's expressive face.

"Everything is in, like..." Mitch eventually says. He trails off, and Auston thinks he's not even aware of it, the way he's suddenly stuck inside his own head and unable to finish his thought.

Sometimes, when Mitch is really, really ripped, he thinks he's saying things out loud that he's actually only thinking, and it's fucking hilarious how he'll contribute to a conversation long after the topic has changed and everyone has moved on to something else.

"What's that, baby?" Auston prods with a lazy smile. "Everything is what?"

"It's like. Surround sound. But... In my head?" He says, so seriously, and Auston has to bite back his laugh.

"Like," Mitch continues, "Like the sound filters in through one of my ears and out the other? It's... It's really cool. And really weird."

Auston stops for a moment to ponder that, and, huh.

"Shit," he says, sort of awed by the discovery. "Yeah, shit, you're totally right."

Everything begins to sort of unravel after that.

Auston gets lost for a really long time, just *listening*. He's completely let go of the thread of the episode, focused instead on just the sounds and the way they filter in and out, just as Mitch had said.

Every glance over at Mitch reveals him to have become more and more liquid, his body oozing into the cushions. Eventually, he's slid so far down the couch that he's practically flat, his chin resting on his own chest and his feet flat on the floor, sprawled out in front of him.

It's probably not nearly as funny as Auston finds it. He dissolves into giggles that he can't seem to stop, and every time he thinks he's got it under control, another look at Mitch sets him right off again.

"What?" Mitch asks, with a dopey grin. "What's funny?"

"You-- you're--" Auston manages through his hiccups for breath, "You're gonna fall."

As soon as he's said it, Mitch is sliding right off the couch to land on his ass on the floor.

It takes a really, really long time to get either one of them to stop howling with laughter after that.

They break for snacks a little while later. Auston reheats his own Thai curry, but Mitch (predictably, and like a heathen) eats his cold, right out of the styrofoam container.

When Auston checks in with him after, asks how he's feeling, Mitch relays with interest that his limbs are, like, really heavy, and everything feels like it's thrumming with electricity and warmth.

"S'good, though," he says again, and then his face screws up into a sort of unreadable expression, like maybe he's embarrassed about what he says next. "I think I'm kind of-- um."

"Yeah?" Auston asks. He scoots even closer to Mitch on the couch, squeezes gently at Mitch's hip with the arm he's got wrapped around his waist. "Tell me."

Mitch has got this beautiful, faraway look on his face, his big eyes gone glassy from the high.

"I think I'm just-- like. Really horny?"

"Oh," Auston says in realization, because yeah, totally. Auston's been in a low, simmering state of arousal since the cookie -- is always a little turned on when they get high together.

"It's. Um. Like, I want-- I want you to fuck me but I feel like I'd-- I feel like I'm gonna shoot the second you touch me."

And, jesus. Auston hadn't realized just how worked up Mitch has gotten himself. They haven't even been touching, not like that, but...

He reaches down to snag the pillow that Mitch has been resting his elbows on, tugs it out of Mitch's lap. Sure enough, Mitch is fully hard in his sweats, a damp patch already blooming there, darkening the fabric.

"Baby," Auston says, and his voice has gone low and dark, his sex voice, without him even really meaning for it to. "You're already all wet for me, and I haven't even touched you yet."

"God," Mitch breathes, and his hips twitch up almost imperceptibly. He's all flushed and so sweet, his teeth closing around his lower lip as he looks at Auston.

"I don't know why I'm so-- fuck. I just. Even just thinking about it feels so good, like I could-- like I could come without even-- oh my God, Auston."

Auston grabs blindly for his phone. He shuts off the television and tells Google to play one of his playlists, something slow and intimate that he associates with Mitch and sex.

(Because obviously fooling around is on the menu today.

Mitch absolutely loves being touched and kissed and fucked and played with when he's high or drunk. It's something they'd negotiated a long, long time ago.

Auston had just figured they'd maybe get around to making out at some point, enjoying the slow burn of it all. But Mitch is clearly at the peak of his high, and he wants. And Auston will give Mitch anything and everything he wants, every time.)

He pulls Mitch into his lap, gets him settled there with his legs spread wide. Mitch's lip is red and wet from where he's been biting at it, and Auston smears a thumb through the saliva there.

He leans in for a filthy kiss that has Mitch moaning.

"Look at you," Auston says against Mitch's mouth, feels him shiver so hard in his arms. "Wrecked already, just from thinking about my dick in you."

"God, god," Mitch whines. "I want it so bad but I can't-- Aus, I can't--"

"It's alright, baby," Auston says, because Mitch is so close already, and obviously a little bit overwhelmed by it. "Let me make you feel good, yeah? I can fuck you later, okay? Just let me--"

And really, Auston just wants to mess Mitch up, wants to get him off right here, have him come all over the inside of Auston's sweats.

He runs a soothing hand down the length of Mitch's spine, loves the way Mitch arches into the touch like he's starving for it. He gets both hands around Mitch's waist and rocks him forward, hitches his hips against Auston's muscular thigh.

"Yeah," he croons encouragingly when Mitch gasps and repeats the motion. "Just like that, Mitchy, okay?"

And Mitch keeps going, keeps rubbing his pretty dick against Auston and making the most amazing sounds. His eyes are squeezed shut and his mouth has gone slack, and Auston needs to see him *come*.

Auston sucks at his own middle finger, gets it sloppy wet. They don't have lube in the living room, but spit is fine for a single finger -- especially with how close Mitch is to the edge already. He slips his hand down the back of Mitch's pants and gets right up between his cheeks.

Mitch *howls* at the blunt press of Auston's finger at his hole, spreads his legs wider and just opens so fucking easy around the thick slide of it inside.

Auston, for the most part, is content to just watch at this point. The way Mitch is shoving forward to rub off against Auston's leg, and then back to take his finger deeper inside means Auston doesn't really have to do much more than watch, anyway -- Mitch is going to get there all by himself.

"Oh, oh," Mitch gasps. His knuckes are white where he's gripping tight, tight to Auston's biceps.

"Fuck yeah, Marns, feels good?"

"Matty," he says, as he's swallowing hard and tilting his head back to bare his throat. "Matty, m'gonna--"

Auston dips down to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to Mitch's Adam's apple, feels Mitch's feverish moan against his lips.

"Oh, fuck, Auston, fuck," he nearly wails, and then his ass is clenching tight around Auston's finger and he's rocking in uncoordinated thrusts against Auston's thigh, jerky little grinds with no proper rhythm.

The sound he makes as he stiffens all over and comes, *hard* in Auston's sweatpants, is a mind-blowingly sexy sob of relief that blazes in Auston's veins.

Auston's got an armful of a pliant, satiated Mitch that he tips over gently to slump against the arm of the couch -- so that he can get his own sweats pulled down enough to tug his own leaking cock out.

The sensations are overwhelming, and his own dry hand feels nothing short of incredible as it works over the hot skin of his erection. When he comes, it's with a muffled grunt that he buries into Mitch's shoulder, his hand catching most of his come as it pulses out of his dick, sticky and abundant.

"Jesus," he says, in wonder, after he's finally managed to catch his breath. There's still a puddle of come cooling in his palm and it's pretty fucking gross but...

He really can't manage even thinking about moving right now.

(It takes a lot of prodding and coaxing to get Mitch up and into a nice, hot shower, but they get there eventually.

The spray of the water feels so good on Auston's sensitive skin, and Mitch's moan of satisfaction makes it pretty evident that he feels the same.

Originally, Auston had planned for round two to take place in their bed, somewhere comfortable where he can take his time fingering Mitch open, maybe fool around with one of their vibrators before getting to the main event.

And well. The way Mitch looks right now, naked and gorgeous and so trusting, has Auston getting hard all over again, already.

"Fuck it," he thinks as he shoves Mitch back against the tiled wall of the shower, "We can always go for round three.")

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ariesbilly · 6 years

Note

Tell me more about FP and Hiram fucking at the Halloween party because hermione was going out with fred!!!!

one of you just… had to ask… fortunately for you i already have the night mapped out. also i never specified it was halloween but ya know… tis the season so imagine what you want. anyway.

it starts off with fp standing back somewhere sulking and watching fred and hermione flirt with each other all night and kiss and touch etc and he’s clearly visibly upset and no longer into this whole party situation. cue hiram coming up behind him and following his line of sight and he scoffs, makes a comment about how pathetic fps being to which fp responds “please. like youre not sitting here plotting your revenge on fred”

hiram puts on his best cars salesman smile and says “actually ive got other plans. got some candy upstairs if you’re interested. it’s fresh.” which is code for hiram went into the city that week to pick up more coke and its the good shit.

now, fp isnt really that much of a partier when it comes to anything stronger than weed. sure, he partakes from time to time but in general its not really his thing. but he takes one look up and sees fred with his tongue shoved so far down hermiones throat he doesnt know how either one of them is still breathing and he thinks fuck it. might as well make the best of a shitty situation. so he downs the rest of his beer and follows hiram upstairs.

theyre a couple of lines in and fps got a good high going when hiram starts talking about fred and hermione and what they must be up to right now and fp does not want to hear about this.

“dont you have anything better to talk about? better yet, how about you just dont talk at all.”

“what, youre still acting like it doesnt bother you?”

“it doesnt”

“liar.”

and fine. fp’s lying. but he’s not about to admit that to hiram so instead he gives a half assed “thanks for the drugs” and makes for the door.

but then hirams grabbing his shoulder and telling him to wait, crowds in to fps space which is really hilarious considering fps got a significant amount of height on hiram but he’s too high right now to think about that, also apparently at some point hirams hand has ended up on his crotch so... he’s a little distracted.

hirams massaging fp through his jeans and talking about how its not fair that fred and hermione get to have all the fun and they should be allowed a little something too, is taunting fp with “theyre probably already in the bathroom down the hall as we speak. hermione on her knees... sucking fred off...”

and next thing hiram knows fps growling and spinning him around, bending him over on the desk and hiram has got the biggest shit-eating grin on his face cuz he knows he just fucking won. says “thats more like it” as he hears fp behind him undoing his belt and hirams scrambling with his own.

fp fumbles around with the condom, asks hiram where he keeps his lube and reaches over into the desk drawer to retrieve it.

theres a moment of hesitation on fps part where asks hiram if he’s done this before because for as much as he cant stand the guy, a coke fueled quickie probably isnt the best way to be introduced to anal and fps got a conscience ok?

but hiram scoffs and says “you wish” and fp rolls his eyes but he’s got all the confirmation he needs to keep going so... he does.

admittedly he probably couldve spent some more time loosening hiram up but they both know what theyve gotten themselves into and hiram wasnt complaining so.... it was what it was.

which was hard and fast and angry.

when it was all said and done and they were tucking themselves back in to their pants, fp couldnt help but feel guilty, which really pissed him off because did fred ever feel guilty about sleeping with half of their graduating class? no.

but hiram still had that goddamn smile on his face like he was up to trouble.

fp couldnt deal with it anymore. he felt gross. he needed to go home and shower.

hiram followed and as soon as fp opened the door to step out into the hallway he ran right into none other than... you guessed it... fred and hermione.

everybody was at a standstill. fred knows what a post-sex fp looks like, as does hermione with hiram, so it wasnt hard for them to clock what just happened. fp wouldnt meet freds eyes. fred actually had the nerve to look betrayed, and then pissed when he looked over fps shoulder to hiram standing behind him. hermione was just confused as to why and how this happened and hiram looked like he just won the goddamn lottery.

fp mumbled something about going home and ducked downstairs as fast as he could and hiram simply said “great party, don’t you think?” before sauntering off without a care in the world.

oh and you can bet this led to a giant fight between the four of them. fred was pissed at hiram for sleeping with fp. hermione was pissed at fred for being pissed that fp slept with somebody else. fred and fp had a big ass fight about fp sleeping with hiram specifically. hiram and hermione didnt really get into a fight cuz like... they were technically broken up. although she did get mad that hirams whole game plan with fucking fp was just to get back at fred. everybodys so goddamn sloppy i love my kids.

#snakekingtm #theres a fic to be written here but i just cannot do it. maybe. one day when im older #fp jones #hiram lodge #foram #thats their ship name we're gonna deal with it #briana answers things

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poemsandpoemas · 5 years

Text

Slauson Station

Summary:

It’s 10PM on a cold December night and a local South Los Angeles sheriff just wants to be warm. It’s 10PM on a cold December night, and the local South Los Angeles witch just wants to get home without having to walk.

The sheriff stood along the edge of the raised rail platform in complete disbelief. It was 10:00 p.m. on a Thursday in December and, instead of sitting in his vehicle enjoying the warm air conditioning, he instead was waiting atop a platform that was raised at least four stories from the ground. The night breezes felt much stronger at this height and, with the December chill firmly set in, the sheriff was freezing with every brush of the breeze. At this hour, there were no passengers waiting to board; the platform was empty and devoid of life. The sheriff was sure that whoever had been calling these last few weeks to report the so-called “suspicious activity,” that would take place at this time every week, was just yanking the department’s collective chain.

The call had come in thrice this month. Concerned residents who lived near the train platform had begun calling the hotline when they reported seeing a young woman jumping off the platform and, instead of falling, they all would see her float away into the night like a specter. It was a clearly unbelievable tale and while at first it was dismissed as a prank call, the precinct began to take it seriously when platform cameras confirmed at least half of that story. The jumpers face was indiscernible; all one could see was the silhouette of a figure casually stepping off the platform as if though they were taking a simple step along the road. The footage did not extend past the platform, and the department suspected that instead of attempting to commit suicide, the jumper was merely landing on the raised rail tracks and walking along them until they reached the cargo tracks below.

It was the only possible way to explain how the same thing kept happening every time.

“It’s ridiculous, but it is still a serious offense.” The captain had said without looking up from his desk. “Let’s just make sure it’s not a gang related prank. You know how it goes down here.”

So, there the sheriff stood, tired and cold, waiting for the jumper to make their appearance. He gazed at the neighborhood before him; when up at least four stories, the sheriff could see houses, roads, alleyways, and the remains of what once was the sprawling industrial complexes of South L.A.

The sheriff’s father was also in law enforcement and had worked the same beat for many years. When his son announced that he too would be working in South LA, the sheriffs father regaled him with warnings. Among those stories, were his father’s fervent whisperings of the Los Angeles Riots of 1992. He spoke often of the fires that transformed the factories, lumberyards, and train tracks into ashes and hollowed out shells of what they had once been. It never changed back, his father would tell him. Instead, it became a playground for darker forces; forces that had the department at a constant game of cat and mouse.

It was no wonder the boss thought this track jumper was nothing more than a ploy to rouse them.

The sheriff stared at his watch. It was now 10:30, the jumper was late.

The train coming from downtown made its way to the platform and deposited its last three passengers. A man with a cooler who had clearly been selling drinks and snacks on the train, despite knowing it’s illegality, saw the sheriff and scrambled his cooler to the elevator as soon as he stepped off. The sheriff normally would have stopped him but, tonight was reserved for the track jumper. A young man with headphones hoisted a thin bicycle onto his shoulders and walked down the stairs quickly. He was clearly in a rush to get home. The sheriff paid him no heed. Finally, before the doors of the rail car completely shut, a young woman clambered out. Unlike, the last two passengers, the young woman did not seem to be in a rush to get back out into the street. Instead, she merely stood on the edge of the platform as the train departed. The train left the station as quickly as it had come yet, still she did not move. She turned her head and stared in the direction of the bright twinkling Christmas lights of one of the houses in the neighborhoods below.

The sheriff had never seen someone dressed so oddly in South Los Angeles before. The young woman was Latino, or so she appeared. Her dress was white with bright red flowers. She wore a cherry red sweater over the dress, and bright red pumps.The most curious thing however was the large black umbrella she wielded in her hands. On her face, was a look of deep contemplation. Was this the track jumper?

The sheriff approached the young woman. “Are you in distress ma’am?” he called out. He put a hand on his radio, intent on calling his superiors in case she made any sudden movements.

The girl turned to look at him. Her face shifted and she looked at him in what could only be annoyance.

“Not in the least.” She stated. She raised an eyebrow at him as he approached. Her voice surprised him. It was clear with a tone that could only be described as moderate.

Her face was not particularly beautiful, he noted as he got closer. It was a plain face: eyes brown, hair brown, her skin a light olive tone, a small mouth, and a nose a little on the bigger side. She was not beautiful but, her appearance was neat and perfectly made up. Her lips were painted as brightly red as her sweater. If he had passed her on the street, he would have possibly mistaken her for beautiful.

“I am going to need you to step away from the platform m’am.” He said. She did so but, the look of annoyance on her face deepened. She made no other move to leave the platform. Perhaps she was scared to walk home alone and was waiting for someone to pick her up? If that was the case, he did not blame her. South L.A. was dangerous at night. Her appearance made her stick out like a sore thumb. The train platform was high enough that she could avoid the dangers of the streets, while still remaining in a designated spot if she were getting picked up by a family member.

“Do you have somewhere to be ma’am?” He asked.

“Home.” She said curtly. She went back to staring in the direction of the houses and the glittering lights.

The sheriff took his hand from his radio. This could not be the track jumper. She was far too calm to be considering such a move in front of an officer of the law. “Well, shouldn’t you be going then?” He asked again.

“Oh, “ she said, “well, I am waiting.”

“For what? Are you getting picked up by a family member? Because I don’t mind waiting with you downstairs and off the platform.” He was not going to leave a defenseless woman out in these mean streets alone but, he was going to make sure no one stayed on the platform. Track jumper or not, this woman looked like she had a plan of sorts up here.

“No, I am not waiting for a family member.” She snorted. She raised her umbrella off the ground and fiddled with the buckle containing the flaps of the umbrella shut. “I am waiting for you.”

This was confusing. “Why are you waiting for me?” he said. Maybe, she was in on the whole track jumper prank.

“I am not waiting for you.”

“But, you just said you were and here I am.”

“I am not waiting for you to be here.” She corrected. “ I am waiting for you to leave.”

The sheriff bristled. Annoying bitch. “I am going to need you to get off the platform ma’am.” He said sternly.

“I am not a bitch.” she said calmly.

“I never called you a--

“I know you were thinking it and I can hear it in your voice every time you call me ‘ma’am.’ And I am actually trying to get off the platform and go home but, I don’t really feel like doing anything when you are watching me like I am going to do something dangerous.”

“Are you feeling suicidal tonight ma’am? When you say you’re going ‘home’ are you actually trying to kill yourself ma’am? Can I call someone for you ma’am?” He was unsure now if he was trying to follow procedure or get under her skin. She was irritating. Her manner was self-important and it was incredibly suspicious that she refused to leave the platform. Even if she was not the jumper, she was clearly up to something and his instincts were flaring at him to keep an eye on him.

“We have had several calls in the area of a woman jumping off this platform,ma’am and walking on the elevated track. It’s a rather serious offense and I am just keeping an eye out for suspicious activity.” He said.

Her lips pursed. “Hmph. So people saw that did they?”

The sheriff caught her words and ventured further. “Are you the track jumper ma’am?” He inquired. Her shoulders stiffened.

She turned to face him again. “Stop calling me ‘ma’am’ and leave. I need to go home and I don’t want an audience!” No desperation or sadness was in her voice. Just anger, like he was interrupting something important and routine.

“I am afraid I can’t until you leave the platform.” He said. All doubts were gone now. She was the track jumper and she was trying to jump. Although her reasons remained unclear for jumping, he saw that this woman was clearly not insane or suicidal. She obviously wasn’t trying to pull a prank.

Whatever her reasons, he saw no danger in continuing to rile her. “Ma’am.” he called. He stepped towards her at the same time that she stepped back. “I am going to need you to get off the platform.”

“Fine.” She huffed. “ I just took the train all the way from Santa Monica today and I am not in the mood to walk home this late at night.” She unleashed the clasp of her umbrella and opened it to it’s full width.

“For someone who is ‘not in the mood to walk,’ you sure don’t seem to mind jumping off the platform and walking along on an elevated track.” He told her.

The night breezes seemed to grow strong around them. The wind pulled at her skirts and tugged at her umbrella.

“I don’t jump off anything.” She said. “I am just trying to get home.”

“We have seen you on the cameras.” He accused. “You can’t lie to me. If you take one step off this platform, I’ll have you placed under arrest.”

“You can try.” She said, her voice was challenging.

In the distance, the fog horn of a cargo train rumbled below them. She backed herself closer to the edge.The sheriff raised his radio to his lips.

“This is Sheriff Donahue. I have identified the track jumper that’s been hanging around the Slauson station. Over.”

“Are they trying to jump?” the disembodied and alert voice on the radio asked.

“10-4.” He called. “I am on the scene and have the suspect in sight.”

The breezes got stronger around them and the girl smiled as she backed up. With every back step she took, he took another forward. She was insane. The umbrella was hung over her shoulder. Her smile looked dangerous and it was a shame, the sheriff thought, that such a dangerous smile turned her plain face into one of glory.

The foghorn sounded as the train rumbled below them. The girl winked at him and stepped away from the platform.

The winds pushed strongly, the train screeched along the rails, and the chill air made his eyes water.

The sheriff heard the radio call him for an update on the situation but, he could only stare in awe as she floated above the platform, onward above the rooftops, and in the direction of the glittering lights she had stared at so intently.

She traveled along the breeze. Her dress fluttering in the wind.

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anneway-nitheliniel · 6 years

Text

...a Day...

This chapter is already on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12843270/chapters/31416771

Forgot to post it here and only remembered today. Here yor go: More temples, more “deities”.

Part 3: Altar to Amadia

„No, wait! I will stop here. This is high – I mean, far enough!”

Ifan’s voice rang up to his three companions who were already several feet up on the next wall, their only support the long vines and the rock beneath their feet. Sebille, the most sure footed and handed when it came to climbing in general and with only naturally grown assistance more specifically, had already swung herself over the crest of the next rock and was reaching down for Fane to help him up. She found it just a tiny bit unsettling that the solid enough rocks they were climbing inexplicably hovered in thin air without visible support, but she would not say so. Fane, on the other hand, was in bliss and kept chattering happily about the wonders of magic. Even now, literally hanging between heaven and hell, he found the breath to talk about perfection. Ah well, Sebille thought, if he truly had to breathe, he would definitely shut up. Frowning at her own thoughts, she looked past Fane and Lohse down to where Ifan was still standing. One of his hands was searching for support in the sheer wall and he was clearly trying not to look back, or rather down, to where they had come from. She was about to shout something back, when Lohse let go of her hold of the vines and, in clear disregard to the height and narrowness of the ledge beneath her, dropped down next to Ifan. Obvious to Sebille alone, her foolhardiness was also in total disregard to Ifan’s feelings. The man’s face turned white as the clouds above them and he staggered back until his back was to the wall.

“You alright, chief?”

Lohse sounded only partly concerned. They all new about Ifan’s, well, difficulties with heights. Sebille thought, she could actually hear the other woman smirk. But she still reached out to lay a comforting hand on Ifan’s shoulder, eliciting an embarrassed groan.

“No – yes, yes! I am alright, Lohse.” Sebille could see him try to dismiss Lohse with the strained wave of a hand. “I will just wait here and … make sure no one follows you. You just… go ahead!”

---

Fane felt the caveats of being Undead painfully in this moment. For instance was he unable to squint angrily at Lohse the way he would have liked to. “Really, this is my goddess after all. I should be the one to continue!” he tried to convince her with reason as intimidation clearly failed. To his dismay, he was met with reason for once superior to his own.

“But your goddess has not seen fit to make you fireproof and even lacking eyes you must see the Fire Guardian, well, guarding the way into the temple. So this is my call. And you cannot jump far enough to follow me, so Sebille will accompany me.” The gap between this floating rock (Lohse’s naming, of course) and the next was indeed too wide for Fane’s liking as well as his athletics. And the rest of her words were just as true. Lohse’s fiery hair was positively crackling with energy after their first encounter with Amadia, while Sebille and he shimmered slightly blue from the force-field deflecting water. But this indication that the Fire Guardians had more fluid companions later on in the temple did not help his current case.

“Since when have we gone back to actually calling them gods and goddesses? I thought we had agreed they were renegade lords.” Sebille’s question broke his train of thought and Lohse jumped to this support of her one argument gladly.

„True enough! So, Fane, since this is not the temple of a goddess, what do you care who reaches the altar first?”

---

“You bastard!” Sebilles furious screech rang painfully in Lohse’s ears. One moment the Elf had been right at her side, the next she was replaced by a somberly dressed skeleton. Fane looked very smug, though how he conveyed the emotion, Lohse could still not say. Maybe it was in the way he rubbed his gloved hands together.

“Well, hi there, bone boy!” Lohse winked and gave him a comradely cuff in the ribs. “You do remember that Sebille hates being tossed around like this, right?”

“Care to remember, that if I were not so good at ‘tossing her around’, as you say, she would no longer be alive? I cannot consider every single one of her distastes. She has too many.”

Lohse laughed.

“Well, smart move, anyway! And rather good you are currently out of her reach and more or less needle-proof, too.”

---

Lohse and Fane had made it through the “floating rocks’ labyrinth” only to find that Sebille had left without them. They found her sitting next to Ifan, still sulking, while the man concentrated on her face in order to look somewhere that was not below. Lohse grinned. When had the two of them become so adorable?

“Listen up, all, I made a song of our last adventure. Can’t sing it yet, the lodger still disapproves, but I can recite:

Four almighty godwoken were climbing up a tree, Since one is not too fond of heights, The top reached only three.”

Part 4: Altar to Duna

“Why must I always be the dwarf?” Fane complained.

“Simply, my friend, because it is your mask!” Ifan rejected the mask Fane offered to him and pushed it back towards the Undead.

“It is not fair. The one temple where you see me as useful is the one with the least attraction to me.” Keeping on fussing, Fane nevertheless donned the mask. A stocky and, even though they had seen this form quite often now, still surprisingly young faced dwarf shot Ifan a murderous glance. The man remained unperturbed.

„Had Amadia cared to only let whining skeletons enter her temple, you would have been our go-to person number one.“

Stomping off, they could just barely here him mutter: “So it is my fault now, that Amadia is not a racist?”

Part 5: Altar to Vrogir

“Fane, do you truly prefer Vrogir to Duna?” Wonder lay in Sebille’s voice, but it was hardly sufficient cover for the deep concern beneath. Kneeling on the wet floor she held Ifan’s head cradled in her lap, her right hand carefully stroking a tangled lock of hair from his brow. His skin felt cool to the touch but it was nonetheless covered in a thin film of sweat. Her trepidation and her concern for his well-being had been growing ever since the Altar to Zorl-Stissa had set him on fire and she had found herself confirmed when his head had sunk ever deeper in his kneeling position in front of Vrogir’s altar. When his whole body had eventually sacked and slumped forward, she had just been in time to catch him.

Fane’s hands hovered closely over Ifan’s trembling body, sliding up and down in their attempt to find the source of his indisposition.

“I understand not. Why would I prefer one to the other?”

“Well, you said that Duna’s temple attracted you the least.” Sebille was really only speaking to divert her thoughts from the rising anger within her. She feared that should she fail, she would find a way to flood the temple anew.

The skull shook in slight irritation, but since they had long known slight irritation to be Fane’s main mindset, Sebille did not care much. “I found the source of the poison, or venom really,” Fane gave as a none-answer. His fingers had gently wrapped around Ifan’s limp right hand and raising it he showed her the small bite marks in its palm. Not saying anything else, he set to extract the venom and heal the Human. Sebille kept quite and instead of bothering Fane used Lohse’s careful search of the Temple as distraction. Finally, Ifan stirred in her lap and a low moan escaped his lips. A quick look ascertained her that the sweat was drying on his skin and he was recovering quickly.

“I feel for both naught but disdain,” Fane finally resumed the former subject. The Undead held a water bottle out to her and she took it with a grateful smile, unstopped it, and put it gently to Ifan’s lips. “But truly, his temple is much more exciting. The traps are more intricate – which I would never have assumed given the Dwarfs proverbial skill in mechanics – getting here was much harder and,” he paused for emphasis, “we even solved the riddle of the Orcs’ disappearance!” He made a happy clicking sound as if he still had a tongue to do it with.

“Oh yes,” Ifan grunted, while carefully getting into an upright position with Sebille’s steady hands as support. He caught one and squeezed it tightly. “That is a relief. No more Orcs. But this truly is such a boring place. No fights and adventures to be had anywhere.” His sarcasm was betrayed by his broad smile.

“Let us hope, they find their happiness,” Sebille added, “and pester another people.”

The three of them nodded at each other in uncommon agreement.

#dos 2 #divinity original sin 2 #sebille #ifan ben-mezd #Lohse #fane #part 2 #altars to all the gods

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dragonasheswrites-blog · 6 years

Text

The Heaven We Didn’t Choose, Chapter 14: In Which Much is Explained

...And Undyne plays therapist.

First: Chapter 1: In Which a Child Makes a Friend

Previous: Chapter 13: In Which Nothing Good Lasts Forever

Next: Chapter 15: In Which Sans is Hired

Click here for the story overview.

Weeks passed in a similar manner. Though Sans didn’t breathe a word about Attie, or Frisk, or his missing phone data, he thought about them almost constantly. It seemed like Attie and Frisk took up almost as much of his life in their absence as they had when they were actually part of it.

He made sure not to walk past Frisk’s house on his way to and from the park where he sold hot dogs. It was pretty far out of his way, actually, especially on sore feet. He couldn’t even remember why he’d started using that route in the first place. It was much easier to take the straight path through the heavily monster-populated part of town, even if he could feel eyes on him.

The feeling was particularly strong one evening as he was walking home from his sentry shift. He was almost sure someone was following him, but that could’ve been a trick of his half-mad mind. Pulling double shifts on top of selling hot dogs was utterly exhausting, even though - or, perhaps, because - it had been such a boring job lately. Sure, sentries were technically supposed to keep humans out of Mount Ebott and dangerous monsters in, but few people were stupid or reckless enough to try crossing either way. Every once in a while some dumb human teenagers would dare each other to go up the mountain, but they were easily turned back. Sans hadn’t had that pleasure in...well, since long before he met Attie.

He glanced over his shoulder. His shadow didn’t duck behind the building fast enough, and he caught a glimpse. A single figure, humanoid, face covered by the hood of a jacket. Dark clothing. Short, around his height. Slender. The faint outline of a rounded chest.

...What was a lone woman doing out at night in this part of town? And tailing him, no less?

She was following him relatively closely, which was...not as annoying as Sans thought it would be. At least if someone got stupid and jumped her he’d be close enough to hear the ruckus and intervene if things got out of hand. He resolutely ignored the idea that he wouldn’t have cared before Attie came into his life.

The woman stalked him past Grillby’s, and he resisted the urge to stop in for a drink. Grillbz would report to Boss if there was enough money in it for him, and Boss was still unusually cranky. The last thing Sans wanted was a repeat of his punishment from the day Attie disappeared; that had been nearly a month ago, and he still felt a little sore when he stood for long periods of time.

Sighing to himself, Sans cut back towards his apartment building. Hopefully she’d just confront him and get it over with.

He held the door to the building open with one foot and shifted, watching the woman tense from the corner of his eye socket. “You comin’ in or what?”

She sidled along the building, a little unsteadily, and put a hand on the door. As she passed him, the yellow glow of the bare bulb in the hallway highlighted the curves of a familiar jaw and cheekbone.

“F-Frisk?”

Frisk held a finger to her lips and stepped into the hallway, letting him close the door behind her. She made a motion with her hand that took Sans a moment to decipher.

“O-oh, yeah. Uh. Sure. C’mon in.”

He lead the way up to the apartment he and Boss shared, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

“SANS! You sack of SHIT, you’re LATE!”

Sans dodged Boss’s attack on instinct, then felt his very soul stutter. Frisk had been behind him. He turned to look, but thankfully she stood…

...well, mostly unharmed. She had a scratch on her left arm from wrist to elbow, skin and a thin line of blood showing through the tear in her jacket. Considering the trajectory of Boss’s attack and the fact that she’d been caught by surprise in the narrow hallway, it was impressive.

“Kiddo, let’s-”

“Oh, Ambassador Dreamurr! I apologize. My underling-” Boss kicked Sans out of the doorway- “Neglected to tell me that we would be having such a prestigious visitor in our humble home. Are you harmed?”

Sans heard Frisk confirm that she was mostly alright. The attack had been aimed him, after all; it hadn’t been very damaging. She accepted Boss’s invitation to enter the apartment, but not his offer of dinner.

“SANS, GET OUT. The Ambassador has something to discuss with me.”

He nodded and limped towards the door. Grillby’s it was, then.

“Actually,” Frisk said, not moving from her spot in the doorway, “I need to speak with Sans for a moment.” She glanced between him and Boss, amusement evident in the slight quirk of her eyebrow; Sans could only imagine what their expressions looked like. “Alone, please, Papyrus.”

“Yes, your highness.” Boss saluted and strode back towards his bedroom, shooting a very nasty glare at Sans as he went.

Screw this up, and you’re dust, the glare said.

Sans gulped audibly. Message received.

Then they were alone.

“Do you, uh, want to sit...down?”

“Alright,” Frisk responded. She headed not towards the couch that he’d been vaguely indicating but towards the dining room table. He shrugged lightly and followed her.

They sat across from each other for a long moment, neither speaking. He wasn’t sure how to break the silence without violating Boss’s rules, so he waited for Frisk to start first.

“I owe you,” she said, finally. Her voice was low, like she didn't want Boss to overhear.

“Uh…”

“What do you want?” The question held a lot less animosity than Sans had been expecting, especially considering how completely she’d cut him out of her life.

“I…” I want to see Attie again, he yearned to say. Just for a moment. Just to make sure she’s okay, and doing her Science and Math, and eating properly; nothin’ weird. Just to say goodbye.

“Do you think Frisk wants a filthy pest like you in her daughter’s life?”

“I don’t...want anything,” he said, fiddling with his fingers.

“What? Nothing?”

“Nope. Never...uh, never did.”

And it was true. From the day he’d found Attie in the bushes outside her house he hadn’t even considered collecting payment for his actions. It showed a stunning lack of self-preservation on his part - Frisk was a powerful woman, and her favor could get him nearly anything he could ever want - but he was just...tired.

“Then, why-”

“I just didn’t want a kid to watch her mom die, okay?” He took a deep, needless breath, fighting to keep his voice down. “I don’t...I don’t know where this idea came from that I want you dead’n a ditch somewhere, but that’s...not true, okay? We...you ‘n me, we haven’t always gotten along, sure, but I don’t get along with most folks. Hell, I don’t get along with Grillbz half the time. Doesn’t mean I’m waitin’ in a back alley for him, tryin’ to extort money off ‘im whenever he’s having a bad day.”

“Okay, but you’ve done so much for us. For me.” Frisk’s hands pressed to the dingy tabletop without regard for the stains that littered its surface as she leaned towards him. “Even if you didn’t help us so you could have something to hold over my head, isn’t there something you want? I...I can talk to Papyrus about getting your shifts reduced, at least? It isn’t fair that you should have to make up time when you were helping me. It’s not like you were slacking off.”

“It’s fine. Someone’s gotta watch the old place.” And most of the other sentries had families, which was more of a consideration now than Sans wanted to admit.

“Okay, well...are you sure? Is there anything you want? Anything at all?”

A picture, he wanted to say. You and Attie, smiling. Just one - just something to remember the both of you by. Something to remind me that you aren’t just the pretty painted statue I always see on TV.

“The ambassador’s daughter is too important a secret to be entrusted to the likes of you.”

He shook the thought away. “Just...be happy, okay? And make sure the kid does her Science.” He couldn’t meet her eyes.

Weak, whispered his mind. This is why you should stay away from them. You’ll only drag them down to your level.

Frisk nodded, slowly, looking almost as lost as he felt. “I...okay, I will.”

He gestured towards her ripped sleeve. “And get your mom to patch that up, okay?”

“Alright,” she said. She fidgeted with the ragged edge, apparently not bothered by the wound. “Are...are you okay as well?”

“Fine.”

“Are you sure? It looked like Papyrus kicked you-”

“I’m fine. Really.”

Silence dragged on until it felt uncomfortable, then a few seconds past that. Frisk watched him carefully the entire time, as if trying to peek into his soul by way of his eye sockets, but he forced all emotion down, down and away from her prying eyes. There was no need for her to worry about scum like him. “Well, then. I suppose...I’d better leave you be, then. And truly, Sans, thank you."

He nodded. He didn’t think he could form words around all the things he couldn’t say.

“I’ll...see myself out. If he asks, please let Papyrus know that I’m not happy with him; he’ll understand what it means.” She stood, pushed in her chair, and was gone before Sans could think of a reason for her to stay.

He retreated to his room before Boss realized Frisk had left. Passing on a message like that would probably cause a screaming fit, and he didn’t think he could handle another screaming fit. His bones felt strangely fragile, like he was about to fall apart at any moment. And what was there to keep him together? Sans had just given up his best chance of getting everything he wanted, and he couldn’t tell if it was the right thing to do or the worst mistake of his life.

For most of the night he just sat on the edge of his mattress, face in his hands, and tried to ignore the tears that streamed down his cheekbones.

The next morning, he felt awful. He hadn’t slept much at all but managed to drag himself out of bed on sheer force of habit. The apartment seemed too quiet, just like it had every day for the past month. How long would it take for him to get used to normalcy again?

Boss was out, as usual. It abruptly occurred to Sans that he didn’t know what day it was. He’d been counting days, sure (it had been 26 days since he'd last seen Attie), and it should be possible to figure out the day of the week from that, but he didn’t think his foggy mind would stand up to that much math.

He shuffled around in various pairs of dirty pants until he found his phone, only to find that it was dead.

Great.

It took only a moment to plug it in on his way to the kitchen, but even that felt like too much work. It was surprisingly early; if he actually needed to go to his hot dog stand, he wouldn’t even have to run. He stared for a long moment at the coffee machine, debating whether it was worth the effort. On the one hand, it was even more work and he felt exhausted. On the other hand...caffeine.

Deciding that caffeine was necessary to keep him going through the day, Sans dumped water and coffee grounds into the machine and started it up.

The door to his apartment slammed open just as the final drips of coffee were disappearing into the carafe. For one terrible moment, he thought it was Boss; he nearly tripped over his own feet in an effort to get his back to the wall.

“...The hell, asshole?”

“Oh. Hey, Undyne.”

“It’s CAP...y’know what? Never mind. Where’s your brother?”

“Uh...not here?”

“Don’t eff with me. I can smell coffee.”

Sans wondered just how long Undyne had gone without sleep. She looked nearly dead on her feet. On the other hand, it was hilarious that she was still censoring her language around the apartment. “Y’do remember that I can make coffee too, right?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, right. Just didn’t think you’d bother.”

He sighed. “Sit down, I’ll get you a mug.”

She grabbed at the piping hot carafe, ignoring the potential for burns. “MUGS ARE FOR-”

“Yeah, yeah, but I want some too. Go sit down or somethin’.”

Undyne actually sat down (in a chair, no less), which said a lot about her mental state. She growled something under her breath when Sans moved the carafe, but settled down a little when he poked a mug of coffee into her field of vision. The carafe itself followed, minus the contents of his own mug.

“See,” he said, sitting across from her at the table, “We can pretend to be all civilized.”

A skeptical eyebrow begged to differ.

“So, uh, whaddaya need Boss for?”

“He’s supposed to be on patrol around town this morning and he’s not answering his phone. He always answers his phone. So, that’s worrying. Especially since there’s been an increase in weird stuff in the past few weeks, ever since...well. You remember when Frisk was attacked by that bitch in the hospital?”

Sans did remember, but he was pretty sure the real “bitch” was the one who brought down the would-be assassin, not the assassin herself. He knew better than to say that out loud, though.

“So, now that Frisk is able to perform the official interrogation we’re getting ready for the trial. There’s a weirdly vocal group of humans who think we targeted this lady for some bullshit reason. Don’t know who spread the rumors, but some of them are saying that we, I dunno, accused her at random because of her skin color?? Hah. I don’t discriminate when taking down people who threaten my besties.” She took an aggressive gulp of coffee, then refilled her mug.

“That’s weird. Do they have any proof? I mean, we caught this lady in the act. We have video evidence of what happened. ‘Ts not like we lined up a bunch’ve humans and framed the one that’d cause us the most trouble.”

“Eh, most of the human media won’t touch our footage; they say it’s fake. Lotsa folks are saying we made up the whole thing, especially since the hospital’s official stance is that it was some kinda huge accident. HAH! I’m glad we got Frisk out of that place; one of the doctors was apparently bein’ a real creep.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. Someone was tryin’ to get the hospital to keep her locked up for ‘mental distress’ or some kind of bullshit like that. Kept tryin’ to turn away visitors, too. That’s why there was the big rush to get her out of there. Didn’t think you’d dump the kid on her right away, though.”

Sans’s head was spinning. A doctor? Was that Dr. Ray? And: “...I didn’t dump the kid, Undyne. Boss sent me out and passed off the kid before I got...uh, back.”

She stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

“We’re talking about...about Frisk’s kid, right?”

“Yeah. Attie. You know her name, I know you do.”

He fidgeted. He didn’t want to be having this conversation, especially not in his own dining room. If Boss found out…

“Hey.” Undyne leaned over. “What the hell is going on in this dingy little apartment, anyways? I get one story from Papyrus - and he’s my vice-captain; I know exactly how trustworthy he is - and I get another story from you. What’s your game?”

“...Nothing? Look. I...I like the kid, okay? Yeah, she was a little annoying at first, and I’m not convinced she won’t grow up to be a tyrant to rival Asgore, but...she kinda grew on me. I tried to do my best with her, but Boss...he got worried. He didn’t want Attie around someone like - well, like me - any longer than necessary. I’m an asshole, remember?”

“Hmm.” She finished up the last of the coffee, tilting the mug back to catch every last drop. “Y’know, Papyrus can be a manipulative bastard sometimes, but usually I can call his bullshit. This is just weird. There’s no motivation for any of it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I texted him as soon as I heard that Frisk was released. We needed security to escort her home and all that, especially since she wasn’t in particularly good shape. He was in charge of that part. He showed up with Attie and without you, which was weird. Said you were tired of watchin’ the kid; to me, at least. Told Frisk she missed her mom too much.” She paused, rubbing her eyes. “Actually...I guess I knew something was up. Attie’s story didn’t match his, after all, but she’s scared enough of Papyrus that we figured she didn’t have the full story. Dammit.”

“I mean...it’s not a big deal?”

A forceful punch made a dent in the tabletop. “It IS a big deal, you ASSHOLE! My vice-captain lied to me! I mean, that’s normal - he’s overdue for his annual assassination attempt, after all - but I’m supposed to RECOGNIZE it! I’m LOSING my EDGE!”

Sans shuffled around the table and took the chair next to Undyne. He had the weird urge to pat her on the back, like he'd do for Attie when she was upset, but thankfully quashed it. She’d probably bite his arm off if he tried. “Hey, it was a weird situation for all of us. Boss, uh, explained things to me after; I think he was just lookin’ out for the kid. I’m really not the best caretaker, remember?”

“What did he tell you?”

“Uh, what?”

“What did he ‘explain’ to you about this?”

He thought back to his battle with Boss in the park. “He, uh, said that Attie was too important to be trusted with me. He pointed out that...well, I’m not the most reliable guy, y’know? And Frisk and I haven’t really gotten along.”

Undyne examined him through her single narrowed eye. “And yet, she snuck out of the house, past our defenses, and wound up here last night. Now, why would that be?”

She knew about that? Was it a setup? “Uh...she was sayin’ thanks? She thought she owed me somethin’.”

“IT WAS A RHETORICAL QUESTION, YOU BAG OF BONES! She came here because she DOESN’T hate your guts! She CARES ‘bout you! You impressed her! She realized that you aren’t just the lazy shitstain you pretend you are!”

“But I am…”

“SHUT UP. I’m Captain of the Royal Guard; I’ve seen your employee file. Your real file. The one without bizarre grease stains blotting out half the information.”

Sans hadn’t realized he’d missed a copy of those documents. Good to know.

“I know what you’re capable of. I know what you’ve done. Oh, and while we’re on the topic: expect Asgore to give you a call sometime this afternoon about your... other job.”

“Okay…?”

“My point is, you pass yourself off as a lazy asshole. Heck, most of the time you are a lazy asshole. But somehow, Frisk saw something different. Something she, well, doesn’t hate. She really was grateful that you, y’know, saved her freakin’ life and took care of her kid out of the blue for a couple weeks, and she was a little hurt when you didn’t contact her at all after giving Attie back. By the way, why didn’t you contact her after...well, after Attie went home? They haven’t heard from you at all, which backed up what Papyrus said, but when they tried texting you their numbers were blocked. That's just not right.”

“So, uh, Boss kinda...messed with my phone.”

“WHAT?”

“He took off Frisk’s and Attie’s numbers, all the texts, the pictures…”

“WHAT? Even the ones where we were doing training poses??”

He grabbed the carafe, started another pot of coffee, and scooted down the hallway to grab his phone. It gave him whiny messages about having a low charge, but it turned on.

“Here,” he said, sliding it in front of Undyne. “I don’t know how he blocked numbers, though.” He didn’t want to watch her look through it - the missing pictures and texts still stung - so he retreated back into the kitchen to watch the coffee finish up instead.

He didn’t have many pictures left, so he was still fiddling with the coffee machine when she shrieked in outrage. “THIS IS AWFUL! Those were GREAT poses!”

“Yeah. I sent ‘em to Frisk, y’know; she still has 'em, I bet. She’d probably send them to you if you wanted.”

“HELL YEAH! Hey, do you want them too? You took ‘em, after all. Even if he’s blocked Frisk’s number somehow, he wouldn’t dare block mine in case I need to text you for work.”

“Better not. Boss still goes through my phone sometimes; if he finds a pic of Attie he’ll be pissed.” He brought the full carafe to the table and set it in front of Undyne. She needed it more than he did, and if it kept her talking…

“Hah. Never understood why you put up with that bastard. I mean, I put up with him because he’s got a good head for strategy and he’s a natural leader and I outrank him, but he just yells at you. And beats up on you, if Frisk's right about that. That’s grounds for you to leave the family. Why stay?”

“He’s...Boss? I mean, we’ve always been that way. Him ‘n me against the world.”

She downed an entire mug of coffee in one go. “You know the world’s not like that anymore, right? There’s only so much I can do as his boss, but there are other people willing to - urgh! - help. Hell, go make puppy eyes at one of those human abuse rehab programs; they literally throw parties every time a monster shows up at their door. They’d get you set up somewhere else.”

“C’mon,” he sighed, “Does that really sound like me? Whatever you think you know about me from those files, I gave up a long time ago.”

A strange look grew across Undyne’s face. It was the same look she wore when she had defeated a particularly challenging enemy, but without the wide-toothed grin. “Attie misses you,” she said, voice carefully neutral.

Sans had no response to that.

“She told me so yesterday morning. She’s sad that you won’t call her. Thinks you don’t like her anymore.”

“Undyne, stop.”

“Hmm? Why should I? I thought it didn't matter. I thought it wasn't a big deal.”

“Look. It really is better if she just...forgets about me or somethin’. ‘Sides, Boss said I’m not allowed to even say her name. How’m I gonna-”

A fishy fist left another dent in the table. “THAT’S THE POINT! If Papyrus isn’t around, he’s not your ‘Boss’ anymore, right?? Yeah, I know it’s not normal for us to break up families, even now that we’re on the surface. And I know that he's the head of your family. But...sometimes you just gotta pick your battles, okay? Besides, I KNOW you pay the bills around here. You can move out any time you like. File for emancipation so he can’t drag you back and all that. And then maybe my besties will stop talking my gills off about how much they miss your bony ass.”

The thought of anyone missing his ‘ass’ was laughable, but he felt his skull turning colors anyways. “I...uh, well, maybe. I mean, it’s not so bad ‘round here, y’know? And like you said, we’re family and I pay the bills. Who’d take care of the ol’ place if I leave?”

“STARS, HAVE SOME SELF-RESPECT, WOULD YOU?? THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT WHAT HAPPENS TO YOU!” She chugged the remainder of the coffee. “NOW I’VE GOT A CAFFEINE HIGH AND IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT! I’VE GOTTA RUN THIS OFF BEFORE MY MEETING! LET ME KNOW IF YOU SEE YOUR BASTARD OF A BROTHER!”

She slammed the door behind her, the sound echoing around in Sans’s skull. She had a point, he knew. There would be plenty of advantages to living alone. No more punishments, more free time, the ability to cook his own meals…

...missed shifts because he didn’t get out of bed on time, time lost staring into nothing, crippling loneliness…

No, he wasn’t ready to go it alone, no matter how bad things got. Boss was just...Boss. Just the same as any other monster. They were family, and that meant something to monsters. Abandoning your family meant you were the lowest class of monster, worse than froggits. Worse than dirt. If Undyne and Frisk were worried, well, maybe they had forgotten just how bad things had been in the Underground.

He owed Boss, and that debt would never be repaid.

With a heavy soul, he tied his sneakers on and made his way over to his hot dog stand.

Boss, as it turned out, had been summoned by Asgore sometime early in the morning. Undyne came down from her caffeine high long enough to text Sans about that, and to send him forceful messages in all caps warning him not to repeat anything she said while sleep-deprived. He smirked. Over the time he’d been taking care of Attie, Undyne’s attitude towards him had changed. It was strange, having the excitable and ruthless Captain of the Royal Guard as some kind of...of friend, but it wasn’t bad. He respected her, actually.

And in light of that respect, he reconsidered her words. She had said that Attie missed him. Just the thought of that tugged at his soul. It shouldn’t have, of course; he’d only known her for such a short time. And she was a little human kid. Why should he care about a little human kid?

He deliberately did not think about the kid’s mother.

Luckily, he had bigger problems to take his mind off things. Just as Undyne had predicted, Asgore called him just after Greater Dog and Lesser Dog stopped by the hot dog stand for lunch. Sans cleared his nonexistent throat, willing himself to keep calm; the King of Monsters was terrifying, even over the phone. “Uh, hello, your majesty.”

“Hello, Sans. I am calling to discuss your return to a job you have not held in quite some time.”

Fear locked his bones. “Uh, w-which job?”

“Hmm. You have held several positions, have you not? I feel that a phone conversation is not the best place to discuss this. Come to my castle in the Underground immediately.”

“Y-yes, your maj-”

The king had already hung up. Sans texted Undyne with shaking fingers, letting her know that he’d be late to his sentry shift due to a meeting with the king, then sent the same to Boss. Better safe than sorry.

He grabbed a spare ‘dog and closed down the stand. A sudden thought prompted him to glance down; he was still in his pyjamas.

Teleporting from an alley to his room saved him a lot of time and potential embarrassment. He listened closely, but everything seemed quiet; with any luck, Boss was occupied elsewhere. A sharp ding from his phone made him jump, but it was just Undyne telling him to take the first of his shifts off.

He changed into his button-down shirt and slacks, still clean from the last time he wore them, then stepped into a shortcut. He couldn’t teleport all the way to the top of Mount Ebott - even if the distance wasn’t too much, there were magical protections in place - so he went in stages. His first teleport brought him to his favorite lookout spot, just a short jog from the sentry station he handled most often.

The air was crisp and cool and the forest smelled like winter. From his lookout spot he could see the town laid out below, rows and rows of houses and hospitals and schools and businesses tied together by thin veins of black. There was a bit of activity in the streets, probably humans and monsters getting ready for Christmas (and maybe Takersfaire, if the monsters were feeling bold), but it was barely noticeable from such a distance.

A slight breeze wiggled its way between his bones as he walked towards his station. There were two barriers on Mount Ebott: one just below the sentry stations, and one closer to the entrances where the original once stood. The first - designed to alert sentries when someone approached the mountain - didn’t do anything in particular to block normal entry but he couldn’t teleport through it. It was annoying to have to stop, walk through the barrier manually, then teleport again, but it was an old routine and he managed.

The second barrier, the one that protected the Underground from most intrusions, was one of his least favorite spots in the whole world. It was almost entirely Frisk’s work. Her magic always felt hostile against his bones; no matter how many times he climbed the mountain, he was always a little afraid that her barrier would refuse him entry...or dust him outright.

It was a surprise, then, when he didn’t feel the familiar crackle of angry magic as he approached. Worry niggled at the back of his mind; had Frisk not refreshed it recently? It had been a month since she was released from the hospital; surely she’d climbed the mountain at some point...right? King Asgore still lived Underground most of the time, after all, and she loved him like a father despite everything.

The low hum of powerful human magic filtered slowly into his senses, more noticeable the closer he got. Within arm’s reach of the barrier, it was so strong that it rattled his bones a little. It felt nothing at all like he expected. He carefully held out one hand towards the barrier, and found…

Gentle. Welcoming. “Hi, Sans!”

“What the hell?” This...wasn’t normal. Actually, what had Undyne said?

“She CARES ‘bout you! You impressed her! She realized that you aren’t just the lazy shitstain you pretend you are!”

...Yeah, Frisk had refreshed the barrier, alright. He felt his entire skull turning colors. Beads of sweat began to form under his collar and his breathing picked up.

Magic, even Frisk’s weird human magic, dealt a lot with intent. When he and Frisk had been passive-aggressive enemies - and they had been as long as he could remember, exchanging japes and the occasional harsh word off and on - her intentions toward him had been wary and antagonistic. Now…

Well.

Sans crossed the barrier and stepped into a shortcut before he could think too hard.

A pool of brilliant light met him on the other side. Once upon a time this had probably been a majestic hallway, a tribute to the golden sun the monsters hadn’t seen for generations, but with so many more urgent problems and a general lack of reliable builders it had fallen into disrepair. By the time he had seen it for the first time it had been half-buried and caved in, more of an obstacle to reaching the palace than an entryway. It had only gotten worse over the years.

Now, it looked like someone was in the process of repairing the old place. Most of the rubble had been cleared out and the weak parts of the ceiling and walls had been reinforced with scaffolding. The shattered stained glass windows had been removed; lead scraps were piled in a corner, waiting to be repurposed. The artificial light sources were harsh without the scraps of color the broken windows had provided.

The world...really was changing.

“Sans?” a deep voice boomed through the hallway, shattering his reverie. “Come through to the throne room. You and I have business to discuss.”

#Dragonashes writes #Undertale #Underfell #The Heaven We Didn't Choose #Sans #Frisk #Undyne #Asgore #You can't get rid of Frisk that easily #This isn't ominous at all #How many jobs can one skeleton even have?

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libraryofrewrita · 6 years

Text

Chapter 21: The Hospital of Doom

The group walked into the hospital, which had clearly seen better days. They weren’t at all surprised to see a few Yo-kai hanging around the place since it was the perfect place for them.

“Hello there!”

They looked down to see a Leadoni holding a clipboard and smiling at them.

“Would you be interested in our free promtional check-up?”

They were hesistant to answer. It could be a trap, but they had a feeling that he wouldn’t let them go any further if they didn’t agree to it.

“Umm…sure.”

He smiled and said,

“Excellent! Just head down this hallway to Examination Room 1 and I’ll meet you there!”

The group walked down the hallway, suspicion growing in their minds as they found the poorly fixed sign above the doorway confirming that this was Examination Room 1 and entered. They weren’t surprised to see the Leadoni from earlier in the room next to a stadiometer, although they were suprised that he was dragging Nate over to the stadiometer.

“I need to measure your height. Just stand there and no tiptoes!”

There was a hint of malice in his voice when Leadoni told Nate not to stand on his tiptoes, almost like he was threatening them. Not really wanting to make him mad, Nate just let him measure his height.

“Okay…4 feet and 6 ½ inches for you…”

Nate stepped away from the stadiometer and Leadoni had Katie step up to it and he measured her height.

“4 feet and 7 ½ inches for you…you’re both around the average height for kids your age.”

“Well, you better listen to the announcement. One of my co-workers will meet you there.”

As the group left to find Examination Room 2, they couldn’t help but wonder about a few things.

“Why did he only have us tested? I would’ve thought that since he was a Yo-kai, he would’ve been a little concerned about making sure that you four got tested as well.”

“Yeah, and we never told them our names, so how were they able to ask for us to go to Examination Room 2?”

“And how are they making the announcements?”

Whisper was silent as the group walked. Yes, Nate and Katie had valid questions, but something was bothering him. As the kids were being measured, he swore he heard the sound of someone writing. He knew it wasn’t the Leadoni that had been measuring them since he didn’t seem to bother writing down the heights after he called them out. Either he had a good memory or someone else was watching them and taking notes.

I want to tell them as soon as possible, but what if they think I’m just being paranoid? But if I’m right and I don’t tell them my suspicions, they’ll get mad at me for keeping it to myself and not getting them out of here when I had the chance.

As Whisper decided to just tell the group his suspicions, they had found Examination Room 2, which also had a poorly fixed sign above it. The only things inside the room was an eye chart and another Leadoni, except this one was wearing a monocle.

If there really is something bad about to happen, I don’t want to tip off anyone that might be trying to make it happen. As soon as we’re not being examined by anyone, I’m getting them out of here, mark my words!

The group walked in and the Leadoni, who was holding a pointer stick, just told them to identify what he was pointing at. He pointed it to a picture of a bunch of bananas, which Nate and Katie correctly identified.

“Correct! Both of your eyes are in perfect health!”

Before Nate or Katie could tell the Leadoni that an eye test required identifying more than one picture on the eye chart or what a normal eye chart looked like, another annoucement was made.

“Nate and Katie, please come to the X-ray room.”

“Well, you better get going. Have a nice day!”

The group walked around Nocturne Hospital, looking for something to identify the X-ray room as Whisper grew more worried.

Okay, I definitely heard someone writing when we were in there and that Leadoni didn’t have a clipboard in his hand. Someone’s spying on us, but I don’t know who or why.

*****

Meanwhile, outside of Nocturne Hospital…

After hearing the workers talk about locking the front doors so that their ‘patients’ wouldn’t sneak out and worried that the group might be in trouble soon, the figure quickly sneaked inside Nocturne Hospital, staying out of sight as he watched the group go by. His eyes were on Whisper, who obviously looked worried about the group and the possible danger they could be in, but couldn’t seem to convey it without fear of accidently drawing unwanted attention.

I will help you when the time comes, my dear friend. I just hope that time has been kind to you since our last meeting.

*****

They had managed to find the X-ray Room and they had just had an X-ray taken of their hearts. They were expecting to see a normal human heart, but what they saw was not what they had been expecting.

Were these X-ray machines modified for Yo-kai use and they were just too lazy to make the machine work for regular humans like us? It would at least explain why our hearts don’t look normal!

While the things on the X-rays still maintained a normal heart-like shape, it was the fact that they had faces that completely threw them off. The Leadoni in charge of this room, who wore only a white lab coat, was looking at them with an expectant grin, waiting for them to say something.

“They look…great.”

Nate and Katie both knew that was a total lie, but the way that Leadoni was looking at them while they were looking over the x-rays kinda scared them. It was like he was forcing them to say that the x-rays were right.

“Nate and Katie, please make your way to the director’s office.”

The group left the X-ray room and started looking for the director’s room, however they were very reluctant to actually meet the hospital director.

*****

These kids are the perfect subjects for my next experiment! Not only are they able to see and communicate with Yo-kai, they also seem to be healthy from the results of the tests I had them do. I just need a little more information and I can start making preparations.

*****

After they finally managed to find the director’s office, they were expecting to see another Yo-kai. So imagine their shock when they saw a normal human sitting at the director’s desk and wearing a name tag with his name, Dr. Maddiman, in large letters.

“Have a seat, you two. I’m just going to ask you a few questions.”

He gestured to two seats in front of his desk, which Nate and Katie sat down in.

“Have you two been sleeping well lately? Any headaches or nausea?”

“Yes, we’ve been sleeping well. No, we haven’t been having any headaches or nausea.”

“I see…and have you been seeing anything strange recently?”

“Umm…like what?”

“Well…Yo-kai for example.”

That’s oddly specific!

Nate and Katie looked at each other, then they asked,

“Why are you asking?”

The director seemed to freeze for a second, like he hadn’t expected them to say that.

“Err…just curious.”

When the director looked at a file that Nate and Katie had just noticed he was holding, they quickly glanced at Whisper. He slowly shook his head as he pointed to the hospital director and mouthed,

“Don’t trust him.”

The hospital director wrote something down on the file, looked up from it, and gave them the kind of smile you would see on someone trying to be charismatic, but lacking the charm that makes it work.

“Well, you two are in need of a change of heart anyway. Please meet me in the operating room.”

The hospital director got up from his desk and to their surprise, he went towards the back of the room and disappeared instead of going through the same way they did. Whisper went over to investigate and saw a hole in the wall that lead towards the first floor.

“Okay, we have to get out of here. I was waiting until we were alone to tell you this in case someone was listening, but someone’s been watching us and taking notes. I heard someone writing stuff down after each test and I’m not sure if the rest of you heard it or not.”

Everyone nodded and confirmed that they had also heard what sounded like someone writing.

“What’s with the whole 'change of heart’ thing he was talking about and wanting to meet us in the operating room without mentioning calling our parents or something like that?”

“Nate, can you really come up with a good explaination to tell your parents why you were in an abandoned hospital?”

“Well, no. But wouldn’t a doctor at least say something like that, considering we’re minors and still in elementary school?”

Katie picked up the file left on the desk as Nate and Whisper were discussing the strangeness of the whole stitutation. She was curious about what was in there and her eyes widened as she read the papers. The rest of the group looked over the file and their fear grew larger. There was papers with basic information about each of them, with Nate and Katie’s information circled in red with random comments about how they were perfect candiates for…something. The writing started to get unintelligible at that point.

“This can’t be good. Let’s leave before we get caught up in another fight again!”

Whisper nodded as he lead the way to what they hoped was their freedom.

*****

Blast that white Yo-kai! He just had to be suspicious of me and make things difficult! As soon as I trap those kids, I’ll have my workers make quick work of him! Without that Yo-kai around to help them, there’s no way they’ll be able to defeat me!

*****

As the group descended downwards, they were careful not to attract attention to themselves as they sneaked towards the front doors, only to find them closed. They tried to open the doors, only to find them locked! Memories of the musuem flashed in their minds as they tried to open the doors again. This time, Whisper offered to see if he could open the door from the outside, but when he attempted to phase through the door, he bumped into it much like Nate or Katie would if they had attempted to it themselves.

“Oww…”

“Whisper? Are you okay?”

He nodded as he rubbed his head, then he noticed the two metallic gurneys heading towards them.

“Get up the stairs quickly!”

The group also noticed the gurneys and ran to the stairs as fast as they could to avoid being run over by them. The gurneys stopped by the stairs, blocking the doorway as the group huddled by each other on the stairs. They all had a sneaking suspicion that the gurneys were meant for Nate and Katie, but there was no way they were going to be trapped here.

“How do you feel about finding a way to the third floor? There was an open window up there and we can come down the vine wall.”

No one else had a better idea, so they went upstairs, but they found the next flight of stairs was blocked by rubble. As they were about to look for another way up, they found another pair of metallic gurneys up on this floor as well.

“Okay…let’s just keep calm and…run for your lives!”

The group started to run as the gurneys chased them around the second floor and the Yo-kai grabbed random pieces of rubble and threw them at the wheels of the gurneys in an attempt to stop them from chasing Nate and Katie. However, it was all in vain as Nate and Katie eventually fell onto the gurneys and were trapped as the gurneys flew down the stairs. The Yo-kai grabbed onto the gurneys, hoping to at least protect Nate and Katie from whatever was going to happen. However, as the gurneys headed towards the operating room, Whisper lost his grip on the gurney he was on and flew away from the group.

“Whisper!”

Nate, Katie, and the other three Yo-kai watched the doors close on Whisper, who had been trying to catch up to them. They heard him banging on the door as he promised to get them out, then the banging grew quiet. They hoped that he was alright and looking for a way to rescue them as they turned to their right to see two operating tables, a tray of operation tools, and the hospital director waiting for them.

“Now, if you two would just hop onto the operating table…”

Nate and Katie just stared at him.

“You’re the Boss Yo-kai…aren’t you?”

The hospital director just chuckled darkly.

“Well, well…you two are smarter than you look. I almost couldn’t tell since you listen to that paranoid Yo-kai all the time.”

“Hey! Don’t insult our friend!”

The hospital director turned from a relatively normal human to what they assumed was a human like Yo-kai with one eye and what they had to assume was a mad doctor vibe to him that was connected to an IV.

“It doesn’t really matter anyway. Once I defeat you, I’ll take your hearts and put them to use in my experiments. But don’t worry…I promise that you won’t feel a thing!”

He brandished three scapels in one of his hands and said,

“Oh, and I wouldn’t worry about that Yo-kai if I were you. My workers will make quick work out of him!”

*****

Whisper had stopped himself in mid-air and tried to catch up to the others, but the doors to the operating room closed in his face and he banged on the door after he found out that he wasn’t able to phase through the door.

“Nate! Katie! I’ll try to get you out of here!”

He could hear faint mumbles through the door and he looked around for anything he could use to break the door down with.

“Don’t bother. There’s nothing you can do to save them.”

Whisper froze in place and turned around, seeing the three Leadoni that had been testing on Nate and Katie, except that they were now weilding make-shift weapons. Whisper looked around again and realized that the other Yo-kai the group had seen earlier had vanished.

“Weren’t there other Yo-kai here?!”

“There were, but they were against us trapping those kids, so we just locked them away until the procedure was over. However, you won’t be so lucky!”

Whisper flew out of the way of a Leadoni swinging a piece of wood at him, hearing it bang against the metal door. Whisper let out a sigh of relief as he picked up a piece of rubble and chucked it in the Leadoni’s general direction.

Time to get rough.

*****

Nate and Katie could hear the fighting outside of the operating room and it filled them with the confidence they needed to battle. They summoned their other three Yo-kai friends to the battle and they engaged the fight against the mad doctor.

True, Whisper might not be here to help us with finding his weak points, but we can still find a way to beat him.

Filled with rage at Doctor Maddiman for threatening their friends, Jibanyan and the Koma Brothers put everything they got into the battle, even as Dr. Maddiman started to whittle their health away. They were switched out when they got poisoned by him, but the others still put up a good fight. As Nate and Katie cleaned the poison off of the three Yo-kai with a clean rag they had found and gave them some food to heal with, they were also listening to the battle outside, hoping that Whisper was okay.

*****

“Dang it! Keep still!”

Whisper dodged another attack from the Leadoni leader and smacked him with the paper fan in his hand. He had run out of rubble that he was able to lift and toss at the Leadoni and the rubble he threw either disappeared into purple smoke or broke into pieces that wouldn’t do enough damage, so he had to start using the paper fan he had on his person for so long. Considering that the last time he had used it in battle was before his inprisonment in the Crank-a-kai, he was a little surprised to see that he was still pretty decent with it, although he felt that he needed more time before he could be in top form again.

I honestly wish that I had bothered to practice fighting with it beforehand in case this sort of thing happened, but it’s too late now. I just have to hold them off until the door can open again.

Whisper was growing weary as the battle went on and he slipped up a few times as confirmed by the few scratches made by the Leadoni, but he couldn’t let anyone else close to him get hurt ever again.

“You’re going to have to rest eventually, Yo-kai.”

Whisper knew they were right, but he couldn’t afford to rest. If he stopped fighting…he shook his head. He didn’t want to imagine it.

“You know, three against one isn’t fair.”

They turned to where the voice had come from and Whisper’s jaw dropped when he saw a nekomata dressed as a samurai with a cresent moon on his helmet walk from the shadows and join Whisper’s side. He drew his sword and pointed it at the three Leadoni.

“I really dislike an unfair fight, but the only reason I’m stepping up now is because it looked like he was handling you three pretty well. I’m just offering him some assisstance.”

The nekomata turned to Whisper and said,

“How have you been lately?”

“Shogunyan, as much as I want to catch up with you, now’s not a good time.”

“Ah, right. Remind me after the battle.”

The three Leadoni were in shock.

How does he know the legendary Shogunyan and why is Shogunyan so friendly towards him?!

Shogunyan patted Whisper’s shoulder as he said to the Leadoni,

“He’s an old friend of mine. We’ve been through a lot together and it seems fitting that our first meeting in so long involves a battle.”

One of the Leadoni swung his piece of wood and Shogunyan easily blocked it and sliced it in half, the top part falling on the Leadoni’s head.

“Honestly, that was just rude.”

Shogunyan started to glow light blue and Whisper wisely floated away, having seen this happen before. Shogunyan took his sword and yelled out,

“Bonito Blade!”

The moment he yelled it, he started to slice at the Leadoni until they surrendered and disappeared into a puff of purple smoke, leaving a set of keys behind. Shogunyan stopped glowing as he fell to his knees, lacking energy.

“Sho? Are you alright?”

Shogunyan nodded as he watched Whisper pick up the fallen keys.

“It’s time to rescue everyone!”

*****

“Noooo!”

Nate and Katie both noticed small hearts appearing around Dr. Maddiman earlier in the battle and it wasn’t until they remembered his rant about how he was going to take their hearts that they had realized that the small, floating hearts were connected to Dr. Maddiman in a way. They popped the hearts with whatever they could find and when Dr. Maddiman attempted to heal himself, he was unable to because of the lack of hearts. It left him open to attack and they took advantage of it until he was defeated for good.

“H-how could I lose to mere children?!”

He coughed and fainted, but before he disappeared, he called out a name.

“Chairman Mckraken!”

When the purple smoke cleared, they heard the door to the operating room open and they saw Whisper covered with scratches as he floated into the room.

“Whisper!”

They rushed over to him and after he confirmed that he was fine, he introduced Shogunyan to the group.

“Guys, this is Shogunyan, an old friend of mine. We used to travel together a lot.”

Shogunyan bowed to them.

“It’s so nice to know that my friend is in good hands.”

“Whisper, we should really do something about your scratches. I think there’s something in one of these cabinets that might help, nya.”

Jibanyan went to a random cabinet, placed his ear on it, and slowly opened it to reveal a Mirapo inside.

“Oh, thank Divine Paradise! I thought I was going to be stuck in there forever! That crazy doctor and his minions locked me in here to keep you from escaping, but looks who’s laughing now!”

After helping Mirapo out of the cabinet, he walked to his normal post by the enterance of Nocturne Hospital and the group found stuff to help Whisper recover faster in the same cabinet. Getting Whisper to sit still was other issue as they discovered that he hated the sting of the disinfectant spray they had found.

“Let me go! Let me go! It stings so much!”

Whisper was actively struggling to escape their grip as they tried to wrap some bandages around his injuries.

“Why can’t Whisper heal himself and why aren’t we using any of our healing Yo-kai for this?”

Whisper stopped struggling and looked at the ground as he mumbled,

“I’m a Drain Attribute Yo-kai, so I heal in a…different way then the rest of the Yo-kai and you could use a healing Yo-kai on me, but I don’t know why Jibanyan didn’t think to do that.”

“I wanted to take some petty revenge against the doctor for trying to kill you guys by stealing some of his stuff.”

Jibanyan had a gleeful smirk on his face as he said that as Nate and Katie were able to finish wrapping the bandages around Whisper.

“Don’t worry…as a Yo-kai, I’ll be scratch-free by tomorrow!”

*****

They headed back to Shoten Temple by Mirapo because none of them felt like riding their bikes or walking there. They found Draggie and Nate and Katie asked him if he knew anyone by the name of Chairman Mckraken. Draggie nodded as he took his crystal ball off his head and it glowed purple, showing a meeting between a large squid Yo-kai and a group of Yo-kai that were completely white.

“My Yo-kai! The wait is over! It’s time to get kraken and show these humans who’s boss! We’ll show them and the Yo-kai traitors that side with them that we’re not squidding by taking our chance to octopi the Human Realm!”

There was a moment of silence between the group of white Yo-kai and the squid that the group assumed was Mckraken.

“Okay, so I’m still working on my puns. If any of you have any better ideas on how we can express our anger to the humans, just let me know…but now our time has come!”

He let loose an insane cackle as the group of white Yo-kai cheered. The crystal ball stopped glowing at that point, but that was all the group needed to know. There was something bad happening soon and they had to get ready to stop it at any cost…or they would if it wasn’t starting to become evening. They decided to just head home for the night and they agreed on meeting somewhere tomorrow to make plans. After eating dinner, filling out their books, and getting ready for bed, the two kids fell asleep despite how nervous they were for tomorrow.

*****

Whisper sat on the rooftop of Nate’s house and sighed softly. He saw Shogunyan next to him as they discussed what has happened since the last time they saw each other.

“If you don’t mind me asking, does it still bother you?”

“Does what still bother me?”

“Whispocrates.”

Whisper froze in place as memories flashed in his mind and he started to shake.

“S-sorry, I guess it still does bother you.”

Whisper sighed softly as the flashbacks ended.

“Y-yeah…”

“Do you plan on telling them?”

“Of course I do! It’s just…difficult.”

“Hey, no rush.”

Shogunyan handed Whisper his medal and said,

“Be sure to give that medal to them.”

Whisper nodded as Shogunyan left and he went inside when he felt a drop of rain fall on his head and by the time he got back to Nate’s room, it had started to pour.

“Hey, Whisper. What were you doing outside, nya?”

“Hmm? Oh, I was just remembering things, Jibanyan.”

Whisper sat down and scratched the area between Jibanyan’s ears, listening to him purr.

I want to tell them about my past at some point, but I don’t know how they’ll react. I mean, it would be better if I was the one that told them…

Whisper then remembered what they had seen in the crystal ball and shook his head.

I can’t tell them right now. Not when our realms are in danger. Maybe in the future, when things have settled down, I’ll tell them…but not right now.

Whisper laid down and after he watched Jibanyan get settled, he fell asleep with a smile.

At least life has been good for me so far.

Previous Chapter: https://libraryofrewrita.tumblr.com/post/167093753374/chapter-20-preparing-for-nocturne-hospital Next Chapter: https://libraryofrewrita.tumblr.com/post/167361405129/chapter-22-to-the-yo-kai-realm

#yo-kai watch #yo-kai watch au #rewrite #au #chapter 21

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