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anmylica · 1 year

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Take Me Out (After the Ball Game)

Since @winterbaby89 and @sotangledupinit wanted baseball pickup lines in the pitch thread of the CSMM Discord, I decided to give it to her. This is shameless flirting indulgence, so you’ve been warned! I have ideas percolating for a follow-up, but for now, this is going to be a one shot.

As always, let me know what you think!

Tagging the Usual Crew:

@kmomof4 @snowbellewells @sotangledupinit @tiganasummertree @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @whimsicallyenchantedrose @deckerstarblanche

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Emma rolled her eyes as she tried to hide that she was checking a text from her brother during the meeting with the mayor of Boston bugging her about going to a Red Sox game with him and Mary Margaret, his wife. Emma hated baseball with a passion, and she didn’t see why David would want her to go to a game. She didn’t get to respond to his text, opting instead for ignoring it when the mayor’s secretary handed her a folder. She thanked the woman and turned her attention back onto the words being spoken at her.

Emma groaned softly and sank into the cushy chair in the mayor’s office as the mayor of Boston, Regina Mills, continued to drone on and on about the importance of improving the community’s impressions of the Suffolk County Sheriff’s Office and how Emma, as the sheriff, was supposed to do that. Regina ignored her dramatics, well used to them by now after the last couple of years working with the blonde, and she continued her lecture, knowing that Emma was hearing every word. All Emma could think about was the time spent away from investigations, not that that seemed to matter in terms of the “Evil Queen’s” (as Regina was fondly and not-so-fondly, depending on who was talking, referred to as) priorities. Once Regina got something on her mind, there was no stopping her.

“And there’s the community fundraiser for the Children’s Hospital in two weeks that you need to make an appearance at. We should be a united front, and definitely bring Henry,” Regina said, talking at her usual mile-a-minute pace, barely glancing up at Emma from her papers as she did so. When she did manage to glimpse up at the blonde sitting across from her desk, she frowned at Emma’s lack of attention. “Are you listening to me?” Regina called sharply.

Emma jumped. “Oh! Uh, yeah, I’ve already made sure I have Henry that weekend.”

Regina narrowed her eyes before nodding. “Then there’s the matter of the first pitch and the Red Sox game this weekend.”

“What? What ‘first pitch’?” Emma asked in confusion, not recalling Regina ever having mentioned that before this.

“In honor of Law Enforcement Appreciation Day, the Red Sox have kindly agreed to have one of the members of the Sheriff’s Office throw the first pitch. We wanted someone who looks good in casual clothes with the Sheriff’s Office logo to go out and show that the office cares about the community, and what better way to do that than show up at a baseball game?”

Emma blinked owlishly. “Why am I just now hearing about this?”

Regina waved her hand. “Because your brother, David, backed out at the last minute.”

David was a deputy in the department that she worked closely with. Emma had been elected to the position of sheriff a couple years earlier, and had beaten out her competition very narrowly. David had been a large part of the reason why she had won it. He had campaigned very hard for her to beat Sydney Glass, a man who ran a local small newspaper and who had never served in law enforcement a day in his life. She owed her position to him and all the campaigning he had helped her do.

“Why would he back out? He’s the biggest baseball nut I know.” Emma frowned, thinking about how unfair the short notice was. What if she had already had plans? Thank God Henry was going to be spending the weekend at Neal and Tamara’s. She’d hate to have to cancel any plans with him, though the kid was likely going to be mad he had missed the opportunity to go with her. Other than David, he was the biggest Red Sox fan in their family (something he did not get from her).

Regina waved off the question. “Something to do with Mary Margaret needing him for a fundraiser. I don’t know; I didn’t ask many questions. Since you’re sheriff, and you’re approaching reelection in another year, this will be a great time for you to foster some good will from the people. Shake some hands and kiss some babies type of good will.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Gee, Regina, I didn’t know you cared,” she responded drolly.

“I don’t,” replied Regina loftily. “I just don’t want to work with someone even more clueless than you.”

Emma rolled her eyes. Thanks for that, Evil Queen. “So this weekend?”

“The game is Saturday at 3. You’ll need to be there at 1 for pictures and interviews. And you’ll meet the players and organization as well.”

Emma sighed. “I’ll be there.” The meeting reached its conclusion shortly after the details were finalized, but Emma couldn’t shake the feeling that something big was going to happen this Saturday, as reluctant as she was about the whole affair.

Emma’s feeling was right, and it hit her quite soon after arriving at Fenway Park Saturday at 1 in the afternoon. She arrived, ready to take some photos, do some interviewing, and walk her through the first pitch mechanics, feeling as if she was constantly looking over her shoulder. She was so nervous for this event that she was seriously regretting not convincing David to do this after all.

Emma talked to the owner of the Red Sox, and then mingled with the managers. She met so many people she couldn’t even have said any of their names. The one person Emma remembered the name of was Robin Loxley. Robin was the General Manager of the team, and he immediately set Emma at ease. He had been the one to set up the opportunity along with the PR manager of the team, Belle French. He was great, very friendly and outgoing, and Emma decided she liked him a lot. Emma had actually worked with Belle before on organizing security and managing traffic after games, and they had become fast friends all those years ago. They were there during the interviews with local news and Emma felt grateful to have their support. The interviews went by like a breeze, and Emma walked down onto the field with confidence in herself and her abilities. If she could get through the interviews, she could get through anything.

Then she was brought into the locker room to meet the players. Emma felt a bit exposed meeting the team like this, but Robin assured her that it would be fine and that all the players would be very welcoming. Emma came to find that some were definitely more welcoming than others.

The moment she stepped foot in the locker room after Robin introduced her to the men already in uniform and lounging around the room, one of the players wolf whistled. Emma whipped her head around, quickly locating the source.

“Come back to my place, and I’ll show you what a grand slam looks like,” he said with a smirk that he clearly felt was appealing but just made Emma a little nauseous.

“With lines like that, you’re more likely to strike out,” Emma countered, rolling her eyes.

“Whale!” Robin hissed. “This is Emma Swan, the sheriff! You might show a bit more decorum?”

Instead of the decorum Robin mentioned, Whale’s eyes lit up with leering mischief. “Oh, you can cuff me anytime, baby.”

“The only cuffs you’ll experience are the ones that will land you behind bars.” Emma rolled her eyes as the rest of the team howled with laughter.

Robin’s face turned a deep shade of red. “My apologies,” he said quietly to Emma. “Ignore him. That’s mostly what we do.”

Emma nodded in understanding, turning her attention to the rest of the players in the room. She learned that she would be working briefly with Jefferson Hatter, since he was to be the starting pitcher today.

“I promise, I’ll help you throw the ball without making a fool of yourself,” Jefferson smiled politely, which Emma returned.

Robin introduced her to Leroy Miner (who sneered at her, though Robin assured her he did that to everyone), Will Scarlet (a sarcastic little shit that Emma wasn’t sure she liked), and the rest of the outfielders, Graham Humbert (the left fielder who was definitely easy on the eyes), Phillip Ormin (the center fielder who she knew was married to Aurora Ormin, who worked with Mary Margaret as a teacher, and who she already had met), and Eric Fisher (the right fielder who merely nodded but said nothing else upon their introduction) next. Emma greeted all of them with a polite smile and a greeting, though she might have considered something a little more to Graham had the next two people on the team not walked in late.

“And where are the Jones brothers?” Robin asked with some concern. No one answered him, and it turned out they didn’t need to because the two missing players had just arrived.

The door opened as if on cue and in walked two men. Emma turned and surveyed them. The first through the door was a bit taller and broader than the second, with curly dark hair cropped short and pretty light blue eyes. The second was a bit darker in complexion and hair color, though his jet black hair was straight and his blue eyes were a bit deeper and he had a dusting of ginger scruff that looked as if he spent a good deal of time grooming just right. The moment Emma made eye contact with the second man, her heart stopped and then resumed its beating faster than it had ever done.

“Ah, here they are! Sheriff, this is Liam Jones, our second baseman, and Killian Jones, our catcher. Killian will be who you throw the first pitch to today.”

Liam gave her a polite smile and a nod as he greeted her, but otherwise went to his locker and grabbed his glove. Killian smirked as his eyes roved over her figure, causing her to flush under his scrutiny.

“I’d be delighted to be on your mound,” Killian murmured, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to its back, his dark fair falling into his eyes as he did so.

Emma frowned. “I thought pitchers were the ones to take the mound, not catchers,” she said before she could stop herself. Dammit she did not mean to say that.

Killian smirked in obvious delight, seemingly not offended by her banality in the slightest. “Oh, I think I’m going to have fun with you, lass.” His voice wrapped around the words like warm honey, and Emma fluttered her eyelashes as the implication of his words sunk in.

“Alright, let’s go, you lot!” Robin called, interrupting their moment of connection. Emma tore her eyes from Killian’s and looked around at everyone else. She noticed that Liam was scowling in their direction, though the reasons why he would do that eluded her. “To your warm up stations!” Robin ordered.

The team all filed out, with Killian lingering until it was only he, Emma, and Robin in the room. Liam gave his brother and her a dark look on his way out but said nothing. Killian left the room in front of them, pulling his eyes from Emma’s at the very last moment before sauntering onto the field. Emma and Robin exited, Emma’s eyes glued to Killian’s form as they followed him. Once on the field, the two walked to the pitcher’s mound where the starting pitcher, Jefferson Hatter, was waiting.

The three of them discussed how the first pitch was going to go. Killian took his spot behind home plate, squatted down, and caught the pitch Jefferson threw. Once Emma and Robin reached the mound, they stood and watched. Jefferson seemed cool and unrattled, though Robin murmured to Emma that he frequently went off the rails a bit as the game unfolded (which was why he was their starting pitcher and not a closer).

Emma nodded and smiled, responding at all the right times, but she was only slightly paying attention. Her eyes followed Killian Jones’ every move. For the most part, he looked like he was in the zone, completely focused on his warm up routine with Jefferson, but Emma caught him looking at her out of the corner of his eye many times.

Every time he squatted down into position, he threw a slight smirk her way, as if he was hoping she’d be looking at him in his “seductive” catcher’s stance. (Emma was not going to admit that she was enjoying the view. Not in a million years.)

After Jefferson and Killian had thrown back and forth, Robin interrupted and took the ball that Killian had just thrown to the starting pitcher. He turned and handed it to Emma.

“Now, I’m going to have you throw a few from this spot here,” Robin said as he pointed a little ways in front of them, “and Killian is going to give you some pointers for where to throw now that they’re warm.”

Emma sputtered, but Robin turned and walked back to the dugout. Killian sauntered up to her, his glove perched on one hip while he held his belt buckle in his right hand. Emma noted with some annoyance (and a dash of attraction, not that she would admit it) that he seemed to let his hips lead him in the direction he wanted to walk. Emma frowned as she realized she noticed that.

“It looks like it’s just you and me, now, love,” Killian smiled once he got close enough to her so he didn’t have to shout.

“And the whole field of your teammates,” Emma retorted pointedly.

Jefferson frowned as Emma crossed her arms and Killian closed the space between them even more, smiling at her the whole time. “Uh, guys? You’re not actually alone. I’m- I’m right here,” he said, a bit baffled by their behavior.

Neither seemed to take any notice of his presence as they stared challengingly at each other, so he sighed, shook his head, and turned away, waiting impatiently for whatever this was that was going on between the Sheriff of Boston and their starting catcher to finish. Jefferson looked towards second base to gauge how Liam was taking these events, but if Liam noticed anything suspicious halfway to home plate from the mound, he didn’t give any indication of it.

Killian glanced down at Emma’s figure surreptitiously before meeting her eyes. He held out his glove to her and said, “So let’s see if you know your way around the balls.”

Emma scowled and pushed the ball into his mitt hard. “I’ve been known to fondle them a time or two.”

Killian chuckled in amazement at her gumption. “Alright, you want to stand right here, like this,” he said as he maneuvered her body into position.

“Is it really necessary for you to touch me like this,” Emma huffed, but otherwise let him touch her legs and shoulders to get her into position.

“Well, strictly speaking, probably not,” Killian answered mildly as he tapped her foot to get her to move it a bit further away from her other one.

“Figures,” Emma huffed, showing more annoyance than she felt at his insistence on feeling her up. If she had really minded it, she could have put a stop to it; the fact that she didn’t spoke volumes to them both.

“Well, I’m a baseball player, love. I know my way around the bases.” Killian looked up at her through his lashes to gauge her expression. He was delighted to see that, underneath her mask of outrage, her eyes were glimmering with suppressed mirth brought about by their banter.

He decided to back off a bit after that particularly risqué remark, instead focusing on his instructions for what to do to ensure a good first pitch. Jefferson, upon seeing that they were finally getting serious, contributed his input on how to hold her feet and where to step to ensure that she didn’t look as if she knew next to nothing about throwing a baseball.

After the brief instruction, Killian moved behind home plate to catch a few throws from her. Emma threw the baseball to Killian to get warmed up, trying to make sure she implemented all the instructions Killian had given her (with Jefferson’s correction as needed) and Killian threw the ball to Jefferson, who caught it and handed it back to her. Emma took this time to shamelessly get to watch Killian as he moved.

He made the act of catching and throwing look like some kind of lyrical dance. He moved so gracefully, so fluidly, through the crouches, the throws, and the almost-lazy catches. Emma was secretly pleased to note that he seemed to need to pay very little attention to where the ball was, instead paying her the majority of his attention in the way his eyes raked her figure. She hoped she looked even slightly as graceful in throwing as he did in catching.

After a few minutes of practicing her pitching skills, she nodded to Jefferson that she thought she was ready. Killian ran out to meet them before she walked off the field to wait until game time.

“So, Swan,” he said smiling at her, “how do you feel? Are you ready for your big debut?”

Emma chuckled. “I don’t know about a ‘big debut,’ but I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. I think I’m looking forward to the bottle of rum I’ve got at home for when this is over.” She reached over and massaged her shoulder a bit.

“A rum drinker too?” Killian whistled. “You’re a girl after my own heart, aren’t you?”

Emma smiled slyly, and that was his only warning before she quipped, “I’m quite the catch.”

Killian laughed. “You’re a catch worthy of a gold glove,” he agreed, delighting in making her laugh more.

Their moment couldn’t last, though. Robin’s yelling broke through their concentration on each other, and he and Emma glanced over to see Robin waving her over to the dugout.

“Duty calls,” Killian noted. “Are you going to stay through the whole game?”

Emma nodded. “I’m meeting a few friends in the stands after the pitch is thrown.”

“And what about after?” he pressed.

Emma gave him a searching glance. “I’m not sure,” she answered. “Why?”

Killian swallowed, and decided to shoot his shot. “Well I was just wondering what the ‘win probability’ was for taking you out some time?”

Emma raised her brows, ignoring RRobin's increasingly agitated summons. “My dugout or yours?”

Killian smiled. “How about I get your number after the game, and we can decide?”

Emma smiled prettily, and Killian had the sudden notion that the sun hadn’t truly shined until it illuminated her smile.

“I think you just hit a home run.” She left him with a lingering look and a smile, finally turning and going to the dugout where Robin was shaking his head.

Killian watched her go with a starstruck look in his eyes. Jefferson watched her leave the field with less interest than Killian did.

“Think we can focus on winning the game, now?” Jefferson asked pointedly. Killian nodded and shifted into focusing on the game at hand.

As the teams focused on completing their warmups, the fans began trickling in. Emma was taken to a part of the stadium just off the field where she gave an interview on the latest activities at the sheriff’s station of Boston. She talked about a few projects in the works as a way for the officers to give back to the community, hoping to highlight their humanitarian efforts. The last question she was asked by the reporter concerned her plans for re-election.

“While no campaigns have officially kicked off, I do have plans on running again and continuing the work for the community of Boston that I’ve championed,” Emma replied, with a polite smile and nod.

The reporter thanked her, and then Emma was whisked off to the field for her first pitch. She stepped onto the field to applause, making sure to wave at the crowd for the cameras (and hoping she didn’t screw this up and have to listen to Regina later), and she took the baseball from Robin. He moved off the field, and she stood at the position she had been told previously. She paused for a moment, letting the cameras take their pictures, and stared at the catcher.

Killian Jones squatted behind home plate, his mask off for the moment and laying on the ground beside him. He smirked at her and raised his eyebrow, seeming to say, “So what have you got for me?”

Emma felt her face heat at the suggestion in his eyes. She rolled her own and resolved to knock his smirk off his face. She took one last breath and held it. She reared back, the ball clutched firmly in her hand, and moved forward with the throw. The rest of the world seemed to fade away as she stared Killian down. Nothing else existed but this moment as his blue eyed gaze met her green one. She released the ball, watching it almost float in the air, and let out the breath she had been holding. Killian’s glove snapped shut around it, and the crowd cheered. Killian stood up and cheered as well.

“Play ball!” the announcer exclaimed, and Emma was ushered off the field after a few more pictures. Once off the field, Emma was escorted by Robin to her seat for the game. She made sure to get some popcorn and a drink just after the home team took the field, settling in to have a good time with Ruby and Dorothy, who had both agreed to accompany her since Henry wasn’t with her this weekend. Once she was settled, she sat back and enjoyed herself. Her seat was just behind home plate, high enough to see the rest of the field but close enough to keep a close eye on the catcher and umpire.

The game progressed like baseball normally did, with both teams managing to get hits into gaps in the defense and then getting players out to prevent any runs scored. Emma took a few selfies to post to Instagram to pass the time, making sure to take some pictures of the field and the players as well that she included in her post. (And if she happened to take a few of the Sox’s catcher, that was no one’s business but hers.) Ruby and Dorothy enjoyed photobombing some of them, and Emma laughed at their antics as they took pictures of each other, cheering when the Sox got on base or got a player out. They enjoyed chatting and catching up, as they didn’t see each other as often as they liked to.

As the game progressed, there were a few times when Killian had to chase a ball to the backstop that Emma could have sworn he was looking up at her after catching the errant ball. When he went back to get into catching position, Emma also swore that he was purposefully bending over a bit more than he probably would otherwise, and did he just wiggle his butt at her?! Emma smiled and dug out her phone to try and catch it again, recording the video for a time, laughing along with Ruby as she did so. She wanted to use it as blackmail material for after the game (and she did manage to catch it again on her phone). She cheered when the Sox scored each time, cheering especially hard when Killian managed to get a hit and run the bases.

The game finally ended with a score of 4-3, the Red Sox winning handily after a seventh inning rally by the opposing team. Once the game was over and Emma had said goodbye to Ruby and Dorothy, who had plans for dinner that evening, an official from the organization asked her to come with him, and she followed him down to an area where the locker rooms were. The official told Emma to wait there, and so she leaned against the wall and waited.

She didn’t have to wait long before Killian came out of the locker room. He had changed into street clothes that consisted of jeans and a dark blue hoodie that made his eyes pop even more. He was closely followed by his brother, Liam, who scowled at the sight of Emma waiting for them. Emma watched as Liam said something to his brother, a tight look on his face. Killian waved his concerns off, and then the two men fell silent, obviously having some sort of silent conversation about Killian’s decision to meet her after the game.

Finally, Emma watched as Liam rolled his eyes and stalked off. Killian turned and sauntered over to her, a broad grin on his face.

“Now, how about that date, Love?” Killian asked, a hopeful look on his face.

Emma looked him up and down, deliberately letting her eyes linger over his form. When her eyes met his once more, she smirked.

“I guess that would be alright. But what happens after that?” Emma fluttered her eyelashes.

Killian stepped even closer until he was close enough to brush her lips with his. “Date me, and you’ll eventually see a real diamond.”

Emma’s heart skipped a beat at the sudden intensity in his eyes.

“What are we waiting for then? Let’s go,” she said, holding her hand out to his. He took it and raised it to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to the back. They left, intent on both getting dinner and seeing where this might lead.

A little less than a year later, they were in front of their friends and family at the head table at their wedding reception, holding each other close as they danced in slow circles, the diamond in Emma’s ring glinting in the soft lighting. Emma raised her head from Killian’s chest where it had been resting and gave him a loving, mischievous smile.

“What is it, darling?” he said, smiling softly back at her.

“It looks like you’re batting .300, what with the wedding and all.”

Killian laughed and softly kissed her lips, which she eagerly returned. “No, my love,” he replied, “I’ve succeeded in batting the elusive .400, what with our successful courtship, engagement, and now wedding.”

He spun her out and then pulled her back in dramatically, causing her to laugh.

“Now we’ll just have to see if you hit a home run with the honeymoon,” Emma responded. “Then you could be at an even better percentage.”

Killian smiled brilliantly. “Oh, it will be, Swan.”

“Swan-Jones,” she corrected.

“Swan-Jones,” Killian amended, pulling her in closer.

All around them, their friends and family mingled, having a good time. Henry and Alice, Killian’s daughter, were playing, and Liam was having a good time with the two kids, having finally gotten over his aversion to Killian and Emma’s relationship. It had taken time for them to get to the place they were in, where they were all family, but Killian and Emma wouldn’t have it any other way. Emma thought back to all of their trials, their own issues, vengeful exes, and miscommunications, but having the one person she could call hers made it all worth it.

Emma decided then and there that her favorite sport was baseball, after all.

#killian jones #emma swan #emma and killian #emmaswanedit #killian x emma #once upon a time #captain swan #ouat #captain hook #cs ff #anmylica writes #take me out (after the ball game)

24 notes · View notes

dairy-farmer · 2 years

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I'd like the idea of an AU in the time where jason die and tim becomes Robin. Bruce he vents his anger on the, and the treats badly, doesn't care. He decides to compromise with himself by pretending not to care while slowly installing cameras and bugs in tims househouse. And hacking and displaying feeds from places tim frequents and it gets so bad he bugs tims phone and even inserts a microchip tracker into tim one time when he was unconscious when tim got badly injured. Inevitably bruce It be

EDIT: hello, two people have let me know this prompt is apparently from someone named mantamobu's thread on twitter the original i've linked here and i would love it if many of checked them out!! i'd like to believe that the original anon meant no harm and was likely just enthusiastic about an idea they liked and wished to see more of but I also bear a bit of responsibility since I recently started following mantamobu and had actually seen those tweets before and thought I recognized the idea but then assumed i was wrong since no reference to it was made.

i really do appreciate every prompt send to me! but i do have a concession and if you want to send in prompts from a tweet or post made by someone i'd love to be able to link them and show them what I made with their idea.

but also in all fairness i never made that known before so I do think it was just honest mistake from someone!

still there's great news attatched to this edit!!! mantamobu added more to their original thread about 5 hours ago from the time I'm writing this!!! so you can see how they take their original idea further❤️❤️❤️.

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I cannot stress how much i LOVE fics where tim gets the short end of the stick while training as robin!! because canonically he does get treated differently from dick or jason or damian from how they were trained and treated, it makes sense why bruce acts like that. jason's death is a fresh wound, still bleeding and pulsing pain and tim is, in many ways, vinegar, lemon juice, and salt sprayed onto it.

i think bruce tried to do his best but ultimately had to push tim's training onto others because he couldn't handle being tim's primary trainer but also because he wanted tim to get a varied education, because he blamed himself for jason's death, and he'd been the one responsible for teaching jason everything. so he'd failed and jason's death was on his hands because he hadn't taught him enough and he didn't want that for tim.

bruce is just SO CLOSE to tipping over the edge and i think if tim had gotten to him just a few months even a few weeks later he'd have developed into a very distrustful and aggressive person because you could see how he was rolling down that path when tim came into his life.

he doesn't like tim. doesn't appreciate his interference in his life and he most certainly doesn't trust him despite alfred and dick both insisting he five tim a chance.

he's short with tim. gives growled orders and he expects perfection on the first attempt. bruce knows he's being harsh on him, alfred hads tried pleading him to not be so callous, to have a gentler touch like he did with his other boys. timothy wants to help him. can't he see that?

or is he far too stubborn to acknowledge the sacrifices this boy is going to make for his sake?

alfred must tell dick his worries because dick calls him, spitting threats and saying he better not be treating tim badly because he'll come over there and kick his ass if that's the case.

bruce tries to ignore the hurt that bubbles in him when he realizes that his family thinks he's...he's hurting tim on purpose just for the sake of it.

tim doesn't hold it against him. his eyes are sympathetic and understanding even while cradling a heavily bruised limb because bruce threw him down on the mat too harshly.

he asks bruce how his day is going, if he's eaten anything and before bruce can even respond tim will be offering him packets of crackers, chips, or nuts. they're printed with his school logo and bruce knows tim must've gotten them from the vending machines in his cafeteria.

tim is sweet, in the way that boys raised to be gentle are. he's earnest and eager to please bruce. but he also pities bruce.

he sees the cracks in him and tries his best to help him along even if it means receiving a several minute long verbal lashing for a small mistake.

bruce knows he is harsh (he wishes he could be kinder). he knows he has a short temper (he wishes he could be more patient). he knows he's not doing right by tim (he wishes he could be better).

he cannot caress tim. cannot tell him when he impresses him or how much he's improved. alfred is disapproving of that, he makes that very clear.

bruce tries to ignore the feelings. this overwhelming irrational fear and worry over tim when he can't see him. bruce knows tim's schedule, tim surrendered it quite easily.

from five days a week, from seven-thirty to three he's at school.

on mondays and wednesdays he has gymnastics which he's been attending since he was in second grade.

tuesdays and thursdays from four to six he has tutoring with an older boy from his school to help him with a few classes he's fallen behind in.

fridays, saturday, and sunday tim signs himself out for the weekend and makes his way to the manor for training. three days a week is a severe limit but tim is working on convincing his parents to let him quit gymnastics despite the fact that he's won a handful of trophies from local competitions.

tim is also looking into maybe paying off his tutor to say they met and instead freeing up all five days for bruce.

the point is, bruce knows, roughly, where tim is at any given hour of the day.

but bruce can't ignore the creeping feeling. like nails digging under the skin of his scalp. he knows where tim is.

he knows that he knows where he is. but he keeps checking that small post-it note with tim's handwriting outlining his weekly schedule.

he smoothes the creases and reads each line before setting it down. two seconds later and he's picking it back up again and re-reading the lines, just making sure his brain isn't playing tricks on him and he didn't skip any line.

down. pick up again because what if he just imagined that he picked it up and read it the first two times?

bruce's compulsory behavior and natural paranoia stress him out the more he becomes interested in tim. in where he is, what he's doing. is he talking to anyone? is anyone giving him a hard time? what if one of bruce's enemies found out about tim (it hasn't even been 3 months, how could they possibly find out about him) and are hurting him right this second.

it's wasier to manage in the manor. just additional security cameras are added to the driveway and on the forested property line that stretch down the main road.

bruce has an exact ETA and visual on tim as he rides his bike up the road on friday afternoon.

he installs cameras and microphones into the guestroom that tim occupies every weekend. he does it while alfred is out running errands and keeps the feed on a device separate from the bat computer. just in case.

alfred would be fiercely disapproving about this blatent invasion of 'master tim's' privacy. he'd call dick and then his son would have another reason to hate him.

so bruce keeps it to himself. he only pulls it out when he's alone. late at night, when alfred has already retreated and tim is dead asleep after icing all his bruises.

he's a small little thing, curled up on his side as he sleeps. he's brought his own blanket that he cuddles up with on top of the sheets. it's cheetah patterned and bruce recognizes it from the flea markets in gotham's west side that he investigated as batman once.

there's a microphone in the headboard and bruce hears the soft breaths of tim as he sleeps. an occasional whistle sound also leaks through during an especially deep breath, likely the result of a slightly deviated septum.

tim drools, bruce can see it when he zooms in close to his face.

bruce is crossing a boundary. he's invading tim's privacy on a level he never did to jason or dick or even alfred.

he knows that anyone would be furious with him if they knew. they'd call him a 'bigger creep' than usual. but they wouldn't understand.

they wouldn't understand how bruce needed to do it. how close he'd been to calling clark and asking him to check up on what would essentially be, a random civilian.

bruce had to do it. he had to.

they wouldn't understand. but tim would.

if tim knew it brought him peace of mind, he'd let bruce do it.

maybe that's why bruce gets bolder. why he goes out one night while tim stays in and rather than go into gotham proper where he always starts his patrol, he instead makes a turn in teh direction of tim's boarding school where it was located just on the outskirts of the city.

bruce knows tim's dorm is empty. he knows his roommate returns home for the weekend as well.

so it's a matter of just going into the right building and tracking down the door with two star-shaped stickers wearing sunglasses that have the names 'T. Drake' and 'M. To' written on them.

bruce finds the bed with tim's possessions and presses bugs and cameras around his side of the room. he debates planting any in the bathroom but decides that infringing on the privacy of a random 13-year-old boy is just too far.

bruce gets back door access to all the hall way and campus cameras as he leaves.

when tim returns on monday bruce is able to watch him leave until he's out of range of the manor cameras and instead switches to a red, blinking dot on another monitor.

subdermal tracker. experimental. bruce told tim some lie about it being a vaccine for a potential exposure to ivy's pollen. bruce is still working on that and eventually tim will get the real vaccine.

trackers are placed outside of things because if ingested they'll eventually run out of battery and just be hunks of metal floating in someone's body.

tim's should last for a few years before it would have to have its battery replaced. but that's a decade away.

bruce watches as tim's bike rolls into the parking for students and he jogs up to the main office where bruce swtiches to yet another camera.

the quality of the camera is grainy but its good enough quality that bruce can identify it's tim who offers the secretary a friendly smile and quickly signs back in before darting out to make it to his first class of the day.

bruce spends the day alternating between working on his cases and pulling out his phone to check on tim in the security cameras.

bruce feels...better. less weighed down with the knowledge that he knows exactly where tim is and what he's doing.

bruce does realize he's behaving more neurotic than usual. he knows that maybe this should be his wakeup call for professional help but he doesn't get it.

he watches. he listens as tim settles back into his life on monday.

he listens as tim and his roommate complain about their homework and teachers they don't like. they ask about each other's weekend and mutual friends they share. they talk about what's being served for dinner. occasionally other boys from their floor will wander in wanting to chat, borrow or return cds, or to invite them for a movie on the main floor that bruce has also bugged.

bruce listens to tim laugh and nearly bust a gut at a raunchy joke made by one of the older boys. bruce tapes that laugh and keeps it on file.

he doesn't know why.

on tuesday things settle down more. on tuesday, tim's roomate has swim practice from four to seven and tim has tutoring.

bruce expects tim to make his way to the library, bruce already has his fingers ready to switch but instead he watches as tim greets a scruffy, broad-shouldered boy at the door.

tim's tutor. presumably.

sixteen, turning seventeen in three months. he's helping tim with algebra and pre-chemistry.

and apparently, also fucking him.

bruce doesn't tear his eyes away from the sight of the tutor's pants unbuckled and lowered to just below his ass as he roughly fucks tim on his bed. tim's hands are wrapped and scrambling for his sweater vest coated back.

bruce can hear through the microphone grunts and moans and whines. he hears the rocking of the bed and creaking of the springs.

he doesn't know why he doesn't look away.

tuedays and thursdays from four to six is when they meet. bruce checked the post-it.

was this what they did in that time?

yes.

for a full two hours, tim didn't study a lick of algebra or chemistry. instead, every bit of his thirteen-year-old self climbed onto the older boy's lap and rode him, throwing his head back as he moaned with delight of being filled.

bruce watches for the full two hours. he doesn't look away once.

once finished they both clean up and the boy departs with hardly another word spoken.

tim straightens his bed in time for his roomate to return and ask if tim had a productive session.

'oh, very' tim nodded seriously.

bruce checked tim's phone. he'd installed a secondary screen to be able to go through it but he hadn't had reason to until tim's little affair came to light.

they exchanged pictures with each other. they sent risque texts and flirted as much as two teenagers could.

there didn't seem to be much of an emotional connection between them. it wasn't serious. bruce couldn't explain why that filled him with so much relief.

on friday when tim arrived for training he was amazed at how much more calm bruce was. how was soothed with just a few words from tim. how he wasn't as harsh even though alfred's expression was no less disapproving when tim picked himself up from the mats.

bruce's grip wasn't as iron clenched, bruce knew tim could tell. bruce's brows were still furrowed but they didn't carry as much tension. bruce knew tim could tell.

bruce knew tim could feel bruce's eyes on him as they stopped for a water break.

but tim didn't flinch, didn't stumble or hesitate. he absorbed bruce's observation like he didn't feel it at all. he wasn't disturbed or unnerved by bruce's shift in behavior or his scrutiny.

he took it in stride.

and as bruce sat down beside tim, reaching for his own drink. he watched out of the corner of his eye as tim rubbed at his shoulder, right on the spot where bruce had injected the tracker.

bruce didn't know what to call the feeling that bubbled up in his chest. so instead, he swallowed it down alongside the water that filled his mouth.

#anonymous #asks #answered asks

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ironmanfridgemagnet · 2 years

Text

Sitting On The Shelf - Marcus White x Reader

Part 26 - Super Hot Store

SOTS Masterlist

"What Marcus, what do you know about this pallet?" Amy asked in frustration, sweat beading at the flat of her forehead and running down her face. The heat had been getting to everyone today, and while you could understand her annoyance, you didn't think it warranted being mad with Marcus.

You'd only just began your shift for the day, and you were already beginning to succumb to the heat. You couldn't escape it no matter where you went, and it seemed no one else could either.

"Are you asking 'cause I'm in charge of the Warehouse now? 'Cause you heard I'm in charge of the Warehouse now, right?" Marcus's gaze flickered between the two of you, fingers pulling at the fabric of the coveralls that flushed against his chest, a 'cloud 9' logo brandished across it.

He looked handsome, you wouldn't deny it. The navy blue coveralls made his eyes pop more then they usually did, and the pulled up sleeves that scrunched at his elbows made his arms look more muscular then usual, veins popping down the length of his forearms. Sweat beaded across his hairline, though it wasn't warm enough to slick to across his forehead, a sight you thought wouldn't be too bad in the eyes.

"I did. Yeah. A promotion with no raise. Well done." Amy brushed off Marcus's boast with the snappy comment, the bitter tone missed by Marcus over his beaming smile and genuine happiness.

"Well done, Marcus. I've always thought you'd work well in the work house." The comment brought a red tint to his already heated face, his smile dumpling at the kind words. You'd also always thought he'd look good in the warehouse uniform, but that note could be told to him another time.

"Thank you. It just goes to show you keep your head down, you do the work, get your thumb cut off, and agree not to sue, anything can happen." Amy didn't seem to find humour in Marcus's words, instead scoffing and turning back to look at the problem that sat melted in the middle of the dairy aisle.

You looked up at Marcus, "Okay. So you can clean this up?" If it was a smaller spill, you'd have happily taken a bucket and a mop and done it yourself, but the fact that a whole pallet was melting in the aisle? that seemed like too much work. Plus, it was probably the warehouse's fault for leaving the pallet there anyway.

"I got a lot on my plate right now, y/n." He addressed his words at you, ignoring the burning gaze of a heat-ridden Amy that appeared to be trying to shoot lasers through the side of his head. "Uh, but sure, yeah, I'll take care of it. You know what they say, heavy is the head that wears the pants."

Amy, though relieved at the knowledge that Marcus would be dealing with the spill, rolled her eyes at his totally off the mark expression. The heat was really beginning to affect people, even the slightest comment setting Amy off. "Okay."

"It's Shakespeare. Maybe pick up a book once in a while." Stepping away from Amy's side, you squeezed Marcus's hand tightly in a notion of appreciation, quietly thanking him for his help before turning back to Amy, grabbing her hand and dragging her away from the scene before the warmth would, inevitably, make things worse.

————————————————————————

The jewellery counter, was extremely empty today due to the heat, so you were just sat on your phone, scrolling endlessly and occasionally replying to texts from Garrett about how cool Glenn's office was and how you should 'oh so come and join him' - until Amy stormed past, Jonah in her wake.

"What's going on? Guys? Where are you going?" You asked, stumbling out of your stool and already moving out from behind the jewellery counter in an attempt to follow along. Jonah grabbed your hand, cupping yours within his own, pulling you with him to catch up to Amy's quick pace.

"Marcus left the spill out despite saying he'd clean it up and some woman slipped on it. Now Amy's... furious for lack of a better word." Jonah rambled, still holding your hand to pull you with him through the warehouse doors. Turning to face you with a pointed gaze, he gripped your hand tighter, seemingly unnerved by the new territory of the warehouse under Marcus's iron fist."I'm telling you this heat is making us go crazy."

"Marcus, a customer just slipped on the spill." Amy spat out, ready for this conversation to be over with so she could continue to suffer in the heat somewhere far, far away from Marcus.

"Yeah, sorry, Ames. We'll get to it. We're all just pretty hot back here." You knew Marcus was trying his hardest; becoming warehouse manager was a whole new heap of responsibility that even he wasn't sure he was ready for. Many a late night conversation, curled up together on your couch had led you to believe he wasn't quite sure he was fit for the role - however, you doubted it would be long before he found his feet and found his place as a leader.

"Yeah, no, I get it. It's hot everywhere." Amy groaned, frustrated by the lack of action from the warehouse, when she'd only asked a simple taste of them.

"But, you did say you'd clean it up." You looked at the taller man hoping he'd understand where you were coming from if he couldn't find it in himself to empathise with Amy.

"Okay. Relax. There's no need for you two to get so emotional." Woah. Whatever face you pulled at his snarked words mustn't have been a pretty one, Marcus wincing at your reaction alone, the onslaught you knew would come from Amy not even begun yet.

"Emotional? Are we, are we getting emotional?" Amy asked, her voice raising with each word. Jonah only tightened his grip on your hand at the beginnings of the confrontation; unable to gage your reaction while standing by your side, but knowing that the raising of voices alone would begin to freak you out.

"Kind of?" Marcus was skating on thin ice, knowing he'd done something wrong from Amy's outburst and the hurt expression that had crossed your face, however, he couldn't quite pinpoint an exact thing he'd said or done that would quantify as bad.

"Okay, you know what? It's not a big deal. Just needs to get cleaned up. I'll have one of my guys do it." Amy sighed, throwing her arms out in exasperation and turning around, ready to head out of the warehouse and get on with her shift without having to deal with Marcus.

"Much apreesh." Marcus thanked, clapping his hands together as the three of you began to leave the warehouse, hoping that things would stay civil enough to get through the day. "Oh, and hey, Ames, smile. You'll live longer."

At first, you hadn't been sure you were hearing Marcus correctly. The words had slipped past his lips with such ease and carelessness, that you were sure he hadn't meant them. However, as you turned to face him once more, he appeared as he often did, the beginnings of a smile dimpling his cheeks, eyes flickering around to gauge the reaction of his words. Heat or not, Marcus had said what he had said, and he wasn't spluttering out an apology, which as far as you were concerned, meant he meant it.

Fuck.

"Did you just tell me to smile?" Amy seethed through clenched teeth. Marcus had far crossed a line now, and you were certain he wouldn't be able to redeem himself as the heat had fully consumed Amy.

"Yeah, you little sourpuss." He jeered, the rest of the warehouse crew seeming to muffle laughter at the nickname he'd given Amy.

As Amy stormed out of the warehouse, you stayed for a moment, simply looking at Marcus. His gaze didn't meet your own, however, once you turned to leave, Jonah's hand moved to your lower back, then he couldn't take his eyes off of you. Why was Jonah holding you like that?

Amy, still seething, ran up to the customer service counter that had no Garrett in its sights, and snatched the announcer off the counter and began yelling into it. "Attention, employees. Do not clean up the yogurt spill in Grocery. This is a Warehouse problem, and it will be cleaned up when they clean it up. Go to hell, Marcus."

As Amy snapped at yet another customer who was complaining about the heat, you couldn't help but hope Marcus was only acting out because of the heat.

————————————————————————

As you, Amy, Jonah and Mateo stood around the spill, Amy continued to complain about Marcus's words, arms folded diligently across her chest. "I cannot believe he told me to smile!"

"Yeah. That's so out of line. I completely agree." Jonah nodded, folding his arms across his chest as he stared at the spillage before the four of you. Droplets of yoghurt continuously dripped down the side of the pallet, only adding to the mess the flooded beneath it, the smell intensifying with every moment it basked in the heat.

"Would it help if I just cleaned it up?" Mateo added, almost vibrating on the spot at the thought of the yoghurt sitting out, festering, until Marcus or one of his warehouse friends came to clean it. "Cause I really, really want to clean it up. Like, really."

"Do not touch this spill." Amy ordered Mateo with a sharp glare, pointing her finger at him, before walking off, away from the smell and you, Mateo and Jonah.

Staying by Mateo's side, trying to block out the smell of the spill, you continued to stare down at it; the three of your both entranced and disgusted by the warm, thick liquid and how quickly it had become a problem.

"Okay, leaving it to fester." Mateo rolled his eyes, leaning his weight slightly onto the mop as he stood staring at the spill that had been the centre of every problem so far today.

"You know what? Maybe, the heat is causing, like, a number of us to act in ways that seem a little, I don't know, uh, overboard." Jonah whispered, trying to avoid the ears of a particularly angry Amy and her fit of rage that was beginning to drag the whole store into its mix.

However, he easily failed, Amy turning around instantaneously, and storming back over to the three of you, a grimace covering her lips. "So what are you saying? We should let Marcus off the hook because it's hot?"

"Ames, it's too hot to function. Cut him some slack." You attempted at finding a middle ground; though you hadn't agreed with Marcus's out of line comment, you could sympathise with the fact it was hot as hell in the store today, and you wouldn't want to mop It up either. "Let Mateo do it. It'll get it over with, and we can all move on."

"Oh, shut up y/n. You only care because you're basically in love with him." You let out a gasp you couldn't hold in at Amy's snapped out words, an apology slipping quickly past her lips as a hand came to rest against her temple.

"Woah. No. No. It's just remembering that all of us are in the hot store, you know?" Jonah put his hands out between the two of you, acting as a mediator that you hadn't asked for in the argument that was over before it had begun. "Including me, Mateo, y/n, you."

"Yeah, I know, and we're staying cool as fucking cucumbers." You and Mateo stood there, mop still in his hand as he looked at you, raising his eyebrow as if to ask if he should just mop up the spill anyway, despite Amy's outburst less then 5 feet away from him as the smell got worse and worse.

"Mateo!" Amy snapped, Mateo halting his motions through the yoghurt mid wipe of the mop against the floor. "What is wrong with people today?"

————————————————————————

"Thank you both for agreeing to sit down. Uh, mistakes were made. Some things were said that I'm sure both parties regret." You'd managed to stage an intervention in the warehouse: Amy sat opposite Marcus across a table while you and Jonah stood at its side, acting as a middle ground in an attempt to help keep the peace.

Though you'd placed yourself on the side closest to Marcus, you had yet to meet his eyes, unsure of what to say or what to do. Things didn't have to be hard, it could be a very easy, adult conversation to share - however, with the ever increasing heat, you doubted that would happen anytime soon.

"She told me to go to hell. I'm Catholic. That's the worst place we can go." Marcus yelled, rolling his eyes and slumping back in his seat. The childlike behaviour was something you hoped you could attribute to the heat and the heat only, Marcus having never shown you this side of him before.

"Well, at least I didn't tell you to smile." Amy snapped back, leaning closer to him over the table as though to emphasise her words before retreating and slouching into her own chair, pushing herself far into it and far away from Marcus as she did so.

"What's wrong with that? You have a nice smile." Marcus scoffed, shrugging as he slouched down into his seat even further then what felt possible for the tall brunette. He seemed to be unaware of how his words didn't have the same meaning, nor effect, as he thought they had.

"I have an amazing smile. It lights up a room." Amy affirmed, anger raising in her words despite the compliment she was giving to herself. "But you don't tell me when to smile, Marcus. I will smile when I damn well please."

"Fine. I'm sorry if you felt offended. I just forgot how sensitive women can be."

"I can't believe this." You muttered, eyes rolling into the back of your head, a hand running across your face as your turned away from him and faced Amy. Marcus looked at you, surprisingly hearing your quietly whispered words and his expression melted. It hadn't been his intention to upset you. Sure, he was fine with the odd comment slipping out to Amy, who's insistence he was frustrated with, but you? He'd never intended to upset you - in fact he'd been actively trying to refrain himself from thinking without speaking while you were around.

"Marcus, no." Jonah gasped, hand reaching out then retreating and covering his mouth as Amy's hands slammed down onto the table top.

"So now I'm sensitive. Well, how's this for sensitive, Marcus? I am writing you up." With the slam of her hands, she stood from her seat, chair scraping across the stone floor of the warehouse, the screeching sound echoing across the room.

"Uh-oh, guys. Miss Amy's writing my name on the board." Marcus's word's elicited a round of laughs from his fellow warehouse workers who had gathered at the commotion between Amy and Marcus and stood on watching: silent until now.

"Oh, you think that's funny?" Amy asked, raising her eyebrows pointedly at the man, his forehead now dripping with beads of sweat, his hair slick against his forehead - you couldn't tell at this point if it was the heat or Amy's burning gaze that was causing it.

"Yeah, 'cause you were being like an uptight teacher." Marcus laughed at himself, once again rolling his eyes and shuffling in his chair as the rest of the warehouse staff joined in, chuckling at Amy's increasing anger.

"What did we say about deescalating?" Jonah seethed through his teeth at Amy, heat flushing his cheek from what you hoped was the warm temperature of the warehouse and not in anger. Though you were sure you looked just as red-faced and sweaty as everyone else, you knew yours wasn't out of anger, though you couldn't entirely vouch for Jonah; him becoming increasingly more involved with the dispute.

"More like I'm your superior at a job you used to have, Marcus." Amy snapped, standing tall above the brunette who was slouched down in his chair. Puffing out her chest, she calmly, for the first time in a while, stated what she wanted to say to Marcus. "You're fired."

"You're firing me? For nothing?" Marcus asked, him too standing from his chair, picking up his bottle of water and readily unscrewing the lid.

"No, no, no, no, no, no. No! Let's back it up, okay? Uh, nobody is getting fired." Panicked, you attempted to salvage the situation; not quite sure Amy had the power to fire Marcus in the first place and not wanting him to not work here anymore. Flickering your gaze from Amy to Marcus, you addressed his words, head titled in confusion. "Also, it's not 'nothing' all right?"

"I think what happened was, maybe you said some things that tapped into kind of a gender/power matrix, so..." Jonah attempted to explain, though he was quickly cut off by a loud, obnoxious scoff from Marcus.

"Ugh, seriously, guys, you're being bigger bitches than Amy."

You froze as silence seemed to settle over the warehouse. You'd thought this whole argument had been silly in the first place, Marcus shouldn't have told Amy to smile, and she shouldn't have antagonised him. Though Marcus's was definitely the worse of the crimes, you'd have happily brushed it off as the insane temperatures and let it go. But now? Not only had he brought you and Jonah into this mess, he had referred to you, and two of the people you loved most in the world, as bitches. And for some reason, there was something about that, that just made you seethe and your blood boil.

Jonah gently pushed you behind him, shielding your body from any other insults Marcus decided to callously throw at you. "Marcus, you're fired."

————————————————————————

"Okay, so you may have heard that we had an incident. We had to let Marcus go." Amy announced, clipboard in hand as she stood in-front of the very full truck, that none of you were entirely qualified to unload. You weren't even sure you were aloud to be in the warehouse after you'd broken your leg using machinery there.

"What? Are you allowed to fire people?" Sandra asked the question that was on everyone's mind that you didn't want to risk asking lest Amy lash out. It had been a long day as is, and you were certain that one wrong word would set her off on another purge.

Though, luckily, you were far too busy sulking over the situation at hand to care, curled under Mateo's arm that was thrown loosely over your shoulder and holding you into his warmth against the cold, snowy wind that blew through the cracks and crevices of the truck.

"That's unclear. Probably. I don't know. He seemed to think so. Anyway, the rest of the Warehouse walked out in solidarity with him." Groans could be heard all around as it dawned on people what they had been brought here to do; though you couldn't think of any other reason you'd have been forced to gather in the warehouse loading dock.

"Yeah. They're surprisingly loyal. Apparently he promised them he was ushering in a new era, so..." Jonah mused, not really aiming his words at anyone as he stared into the endless abyss that was the truck that needed to be unloaded.

Today was going to be a long day - not that is wasn't already - but with the addition of the heat and having to unload a truck without any training? You couldn't see it going well at all.

"Yeah, especially when considering he just became warehouse manager too. They care about him a lot." You muttered, aiming to respond to Jonah's train of though you doubted he heard your musing.

"So we are going to unload this truck." Amy finally confirmed, another chorus of groans echoing around the group gathered at the loading dock. It'd be no easy task with cloud 9's most competent of workers if they didn't have the training of a well-oiled machine, so how you were meant to do it at all had you baffled.

"Do we even know how to unload a truck? Because I came back here once when they were doing it, and it is very elaborate and choreographed. I mean, it was poppin'. It was hummin'. It was like boom! Boom! Shabam!Boom, boom! Alakazam! Sha-pow!" Mateo said, pulling away from you and dancing around the cramped loading dock as he spoke, enunciating each sound with some kind of corresponding action that you wouldn't be surprised to find only made sense to him.

"Guys, it's fine, okay? I've got the manual, so, you know, all we need, really, are two people throwing the truck, one pushing the line, one on bulk transition, two pulling pallets, three pre-pushing HBA, and one person bowling C and D." Jonah explained it with such confidence you started to believe there was a chance that you could get this done, however, you knew that working in the warehouse was much harder than It looked.

"Okay, so that sounds great. Let's do that!" Amy cheered looking out towards the unfortunate group in front of you, a smile curling onto her lips for the first time today. You were glad she was hopeful, however, as the rest of you were clearly not.

————————————————————————

With Sandra having broken the scanner a while ago you had been stood around talking to Mateo, occasionally alternating with Amy or Jonah to help carry boxes out of the truck. Now, more than ever, you were thankful for all the warehouse staff did - you surely couldn't do this everyday.

"Okay, guys. Good work. I know we're all tired, but we're getting there. We've only got, like, 200 more boxes." Amy's idea of motivation was not helping, the moral of the group had been squashed, trampled and throughly wrung out since you had walked through the doors of the warehouse and out onto the loading dock.

"Y/n? You want to take this one?" Amy asked, walking over to swap places with you as you moved to reluctantly pick up the next box with Jonah.

"Happy too." You grimaced though your discomfort at the idea was clear in your speech. Nobody wanted to be here today, so you would do your part, but do it miserably if what you would do.

Walking into the depths of the truck, you flashed Jonah a tight lipped smile, not really feeling like talking and more like just getting on with the job at hand so you could go home and escape this unbearable heat. "Amy said you need to bend your knees this time."

You bent over to pick the box up from its bottom, Jonah following your actions. "Okay. Will you, can you guide me?" Jonah asked, his head peaking round the side of the box looking for the way out aimlessly behind you.

"Guide you? I'm walking backwards. You guide me." You snapped back, letting out a long deep sigh in an effort to compose yourself before looking around the box to meet Jonah's eyes, crinkled with concern. "I'm sorry, I think the heat is getting to me."

"It's okay," Jonah winked at you, only his eyes peering past the cardboard confines of the box you were carrying. "I know, but I can't, I can't see."

Deciding to stop asking for Jonah's help, you continued to shuffle out of the truck, picking up the pace as you went along and became more confident in your footing. The box was surprisingly lighter then others you'd been made to carry with Amy or Jonah's help, and it was easy to fall into a rhythm of movement after you'd repeated the motion so many times.

"Slow down! Slow down! Slow down!" Jonah shouted at you, though his warning was moments too late as your knees hit the back of the conveyer belt, pressing you tightly against it and sending you flying across it and into Amy who stood at the other end. You and Amy flung into the pile of disregarded supplies, limbs becoming a mess between the boxes. Your arms and legs were flung across empty boxes, Amy's legs thrown over your stomach and one hand clamped around your wrist a little too tightly.

Groan and whined came from the pile that the pair of you had formed, both struggling to come to a stand amidst the mess of boxes and each other's limbs.

"Y/n! Amy! Oh, God, um oh, okay." Jonah reached out for your hand and tried to pull you to stand, your lack of trying to help leaving you firm in your place. If you had had the energy or the consciousness you'd have told him to leave you to die, however, you'd smacked your head against the floor at the collision, and you weren't entirely present - Jonah snapping his fingers in front of your face with little response, that urged Amy to shoot up despite her pain, and shake your shoulders.

"Guys, are you okay? Stand back. I'm gonna break through." Sandra proclaimed from behind the stack of boxes trapping her in the corner, a defeated sigh immediately escaping her as you assumed her attempt was futile. "Guys, I can't break through."

————————————————————————

"Good morning, sleepy head." Mateo mused, brushing your hair out of your eyes as you finally, fully came around in the warehouse, one ice pack placed against your head as another was pressed against your ribs.

"Mateo?" You groggily asked, looking around to find it was just you and him in the open space. "What's-"

"You're okay, sweetie. You just had a bit of a tumble back there." The pet name sounded weird slipping past his lips, but you elected to ignore it, instead focused on the more important matters at hand.

"Where's Amy? Is she okay?"

"We'll go find her, how's that sound?" Mateo pulled you to stand, your wordless nod all the confirmation he needed as he led you back towards the loading dock. This time, it was wide open, no truck preventing the cold, snowy, evening breeze from immediately soothing the warmth from your body.

"Breeze feels good." You heard Jonah say as you joined him and Amy at the now empty loading dock. Mateo leaving your side as you eased down onto the ledge of the dock, legs swinging in the open breeze.

"Y/n?" Amy asked, becoming aware of your silent presence at her side. "I told Mateo to keep watch on you."

"He did." You assured, reaching out to hold Amy's hand with a loving squeeze as she also held an ice pack against her head. "I was asking for you. Was worried."

"Well I'm fine. Are you?" At your silent nod, you leant into her touch, holding onto her hand as you leant your head against her shoulder, closing your eyes and revelling in the coldness. "I'm starting to feel like a normal person again. That heat was making me insane."

A comfortable silence fell over the three of you. Today had been hectic, and you were glad to finally have a moment of peace after all the events of today - especially after how much Marcus had wound the three of you up.

"Oh, shit." You gasped, eyes snapping open and head shooting up off of Amy's shoulder. Despite the dizzying effect it had on you, you span to face the other two, panic flooding across your features.

Realisation seemed to dawn on Amy at the same moment, a gasp slipping past her lips as she came to terms with todays events and what exactly had happened. "We fired Marcus."

————————————————————————

With the building finally back at its normal temperature - apparently with thanks to Glenn and Cheyenne - you, Jonah and Amy made your way back to the café to try and figure out what to do about Marcus. Seating yourself around one of the cramped, wooden tables, you tried to brainstorm ideas though to no avail: Amy and Jonah were completely exasperated from the days events and you were still concussed enough to not have fully coherent thoughts.

"I just totally lost it. I mean, I don't have the authority to fire Marcus." Amy sighed, her head falling between her hands as she leant into the tables support. Jonah brought a hand to your head, readjusting the ice pack while you clutched the other against your ribs.

"Should you be taking something for this?" Jonah muttered, eyeing up the ice packs suspiciously as though they would do nothing to aid your injuries. While you doubted it did anything in the realm of helping your concussion, it was definitely soothing the ache in your ribs. Realising he hadn't responded to Amy, he perked his head up. "Oh, yeah, no, we were, uh we were out of our minds."

"Ugh. We're gonna have to swallow our pride and beg him to come back." Amy seemed to shiver at the thought of it alone. "Marcus, who thinks drinking water is a scam."

"Marcus who thinks that reindeers aren't real." You added, laughing gently to yourself at the memory of him staring one down at Christmas.

"Marcus, who once said, "Bedsheets are for losers."" Amy continued, a smile curling onto her lips at the utter bizarreness of the situation. How had you ended up like this?

"Marcus who gives really good cuddles." The finally few words were lost on the other two who sat around the table, your concussion having you trailing off mid-thought and never really finishing your sentence out loud.

"And who's, um, coming here right now." Amy sprung from her seat to meet the tall brunette halfway; Jonah holding back to help you from your seat that had you slouching into him. His arm wrapped around your waist and hoisted you up, having you leaning into his side so he could carry your weight for you.

"Hey, Marcus, um, we need to talk." Confronting Marcus was unfortunately happening sooner rather than later.

"Totally. I am so sorry. I went for a drive, I cooled down a lot 'cause my car doesn't have doors, and I thought about today. And I said some things about both of you that were uncalled for. I think the heat must have gotten to me. I'm really sorry." He rushed out, not giving the chance for anyone to get anything in edge ways as he hoped to apologise before more bad news was thrown his way.

Only when he finished speaking and tore his gaze away from Amy's eyes did his land on you: curled into Jonah's side and gripping to him like you'd fall apart if you didn't. One ice pack pressed to your head while another was being held against your ribs. What could have possibly happened to you while he was gone? And why did he have the strangest feeling it had something to do with him?

"Well, um, today is your lucky day, because I haven't filed the paperwork yet. So I'm gonna let you off with a warning this time." Amy's surprise was evident, but thankfully brushed over by Marcus's excitement that he hadn't lost his job - not that he ever really had anyway - and the concern he held for you.

"That's big of you." Jonah gave a small smile before his eyes flickered over to you, scanning across your figure to make sure you were okay. Smiling up at him, you stood more independently, allowing him to keep his arm wrapped around you so you wouldn't have to hold up both ice packs yourself.

"Thank you. So we can just all come back to work?" Marcus attempted to clarify, hoping his actions - and the warehouse staffs support of them - hadn't cost anything more than a warning for him, and him alone. He was their leader after all, and he was supposed to be ushering in a 'new era' one that he hoped would be fair and just - and super fucking fun.

"Sure. Whatever."

"And then maybe we should grab dinner or something tonight. Just, like, to, you know, hash it all out so we can all be cool with each other." Marcus's eyes filtered over to you, his words focused mainly on you, trying to figure out if you were angry at him still - something he really didn't want. But the far off, glazed look in your eye suggested you had greater things to deal with then any residual anger you had towards him.

"That's probably not gonna happen." Amy sighed, quickly turning on her heel and heading off elsewhere into the store.

"We'll keep it open. We'll keep it open. Sure. Thank you guys." You let out a small smile at Marcus's words, his efforts as endearing as always. Maybe you were ready to address the situation.

Though Jonah was insisting on staying by your side, you ushered him away, promising that everything would be okay and that you'd be fine in his absence - and agreeing that if not, you'd send him a text, and he could be by your side in an instant.

"Take me home?" You hesitantly asked Marcus, who swooped to your side in an instant, wrapping an arm around your waist and holding the ice pack against your ribs with his hand. As he guided you out of the door.

You didn't care about the fact that you'd left your bag and coat in the break room, or that you were supposed to be angry at him, you could deal with some of that tomorrow. Right now, all you cared about was getting home; even if it was inside of Marcus's doorless car.

Inside the car was better. Your ice packs were left to melt inside of his cup holders, and the cool, night breeze replaced their cooling touch. Marcus quickly reversed out of his parking space, knowing the route to your apartment like the back of his hand, yet fearful that the 10 minute journey could either break or make whatever you two had going on.

"I forgive you."

"Wait, really?"

"But I'm still pissed." Though you could still feel a faint pounding against your head, you remembered the days events more clearly now, knowing it would be smarter to bring it up now, rather then sit through an awkward silence. "I don't think it's okay you told Amy to smile, or that you called me - and her and Jonah - a bitch. But I understand the heat was getting to everyone. Please, just be more mindful of your words, Marcus."

Marcus nodded solemnly at your words. He'd already spent a lot of today reflecting on what he'd done, and you bringing it up felt like a punch to the gut. One he couldn't deny he deserved.

"You're an angel, you know that?" Marcus shook his head, putting the car into park outside your apartment building and turning to face you though not meeting your eyes, fingers fiddling with the gear stick. "Too good for this world, I think."

Laughing you unbuckled your seatbelt, stumbling from the car and letting Marcus chase after you as you headed to the buildings door. Though you promised him, and Jonah, you'd tell them if you needed help, you pushed his hands away, assuring you could do it by yourself despite your shaking legs.

"I'm going to let you walk me to my apartment. Not because I need the help." You assured, pointing a finger in what you hoped was the direction of his smiling face. "But because you look incredibly handsome in those coveralls and I want to look at you for a little while longer."

Marcus couldn't tell if it was the concussion or you actually talking, however he accepted the compliment with a gracious smile and continued your journey up the stairs. "And I'm still pissed at you!"

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Hey guys!! Sorry for the late upload, I've had a very hectic day. My flight home (I was very briefly out of the country) got delayed because lightening was striking near the airport. But I'm home safe now!!

I hope you enjoy this weeks chapter, cause I'd did !! Genuinely loved writing a bit of drama between Marcus and y/n and there will be some more to come at some point 😧

Look out for next weeks part as it's a big one!! As always, have a lovely week!! <3333

#sitting on the shelf marcus white x reader #superstore x reader #superstore imagine #cloud 9 #marcus white #marcus white x reader #marcus superstore #marcus white imagine #superstore marcus imagine #superstore marcus x reader

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viiridiangreen · 8 months

Text

Grumbling bc Normie Girlypop from work mentioned me on a Completely Unnecessary Congratulatory Email to all participants in a recent CorpoEvent she helped organise. She thanked / congratulated me on delivering a good result on the animated slideshow that they INEXPLICABLY had me do IN MS OFFICE POWER POINDT (???!?!??!?!?!). I don't think she has like Beef or meant anything by it tbh. Butttt the way she went abt it is like Nails On Chalkboard Cringe Lvl to me lol.

She fully went "congratulations on figuring it out even though YOU HAD NO IDEA!!" and i'm like.................

GIRL i had PLENTY OF IDEA!!! I KNOW how to make a basic ass slideshow animation lmao. It only ended up taking my whole week PLUS the entirety of my Saturday bc I was swamped beyond belief bc the one other designer at this thousand employee company was taking his first weeklong vacation in an aeon, and it coincided with the absolute busiest we've been the whole year, and that only happened bc aReA lEaDeRs could only be arsed to mention they wanted an animation two weeks before the hard deadline for it, even though the event had been in planning for MONTHS.

I could only use one of those weeks to put it together it bc the other one was completely taken up by ANOTHER heavy ass presentation that also **HAD TO** be done in powerpoint & not dedicated design software from the full adobe suite they pay out the ass for every year... (bc the engineers get upset if their sales materials are static pdfs instead of editable files :( bc they want to be able to mess with the designs directly sooooo bad, if they can't deform & misplace & generally fuck shit up to their heart's content before showing it to clients they get Big Mad)

IN ADDITION to those two presentations, I was constantly interrupted by nonsensical requests, like ppl saying they "only wanted me to send over the logo of a company we're collaborating with in vector format" so they could DO MY DESIGN WORK FOR ME, "just" substitute it somewhere..... ofc it turned out that they thought they could sub out the logo on a banner that was embedded as a flat jpg within a word document. Like I didn't even know where to begin to explain why they were wrong & it wasn't just a matter of sending over a couple vector file attachments lmao. And all this only happened bc the materials for THAT project that the senior designer left perfectly arranged and pristine were useless bc they gave him the wrong logo to work with due to miscommunication.

After dealing w/ that I had to try and refocus my attention onto the larger task at hand. But inevitable another Teams chat / email / Whatsapp message would drop 10mins later. I don't struggle so much with focusing as with Re-Focusing, interrupting a task then getting back right to where I left off is a fucking Obscure Arcane Art that I struggle with sosososomuch

...

like overall none of it was difficult bc I didn't know my shit. there were some things i hadn't done before but the technical aspects of it were easily googleable. it was difficult and frustrating and ate into time meant for me to rest bc the higher ups can't fuckin talk to each other lmao. AND she implied i didn't know my shit in an email addressed to those higher ups too. like... way to lowkey insult me as a professional and let irresponsible management off the hook in the same move lol.

i just. i'm really trying not to be petty or bitchy or whatever abt this but. i guess i just don't appreciate her praising the effort i put in as if it was me overcoming my own """ignorance""" or lack of experience or whatever... instead of me coming thru & taking on extra hours that i won't be directly compensated for, despite the absolute lack of effective communication at the company LMAO

#viitalks #corpogrumbles all around

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littlemisslipbalm · 3 years

Text

“you make me so angry sometimes”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He snickers, “Y’like it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S’a little rude.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seriously. What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t see it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So which am I?” She widens her eyes.

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

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

He laughs. “Thanks,” he drawls out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re late!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do not,” she warned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve got it,” Y/N says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s my job to touch you, Harry.”

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

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

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

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

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

He nods again, muttering “Fair, fair.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pauses again and she continues to work silently.

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

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

“Pardon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop that,” She muttered.

“Stop what?” He smiles wider.

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

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

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

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

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever, dude.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry hums and unclenches it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lisa nods, “Apologize.”

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

Lisa smiles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He types back: “Of courseeee”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” he exhales.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yet the effect is similar,” she muses.

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

“Effect?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which part?”

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

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

“You know, so why don’t you?”

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

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

“And what if I don’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nick stays quiet, taking a drag of his cigarette.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I really am sorry,” she whispers again.

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re stubborn,” she notes.

“So are you,” he counters quickly.

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

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

“That’d be nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Passion.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry giggles and scratches his nose against his index finger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great. You?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harry,” she sighs contentedly.

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

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

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

“What?” Harry laughs, confused.

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

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

“How are you?” She continues.

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

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

“The one who’s obsessed with me?”

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

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

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

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

“Oh shut up!” She’s quick to reply.

“So you do?”

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

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

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

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

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

“No one said anything about nudes!”

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

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

“Aww, you’re flustered,” She coos.

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

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

“Because you called me,” he says confidently.

“I call everyone.”

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

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

“Or does it?”

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

“Yes.” She smiles.

“Yes!” He repeats happily.

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

“See you soon, Harry.”

“Not soon enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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ivy-loves-chocolate · 3 years

Text

Note: this was a commission I got from a supporter on ko-fi. I hope that you’ll read it with the same enjoyment I had while writing it. If you want to commission or support me check the pinned post or the hyperlink, you’ll find all the details there. If you have questions, my DM is open 🤗. Also, your comments are always welcomed.

Promt: Wesker forgets about the reader’s birthday.

Pairing: Wesker x F!Reader

Word count: 2K

Type: fluff.

Wesker placed the samples with care on the table, starting his day as usual. He’s been spending his last few years, stuck in the lab researching all over again in order to achieve the wanted results. Since Uroborus is a high importance plan, he’s very meticulous about his schedule, respecting every minute precisely. Not a minute early, not a minute late. The only thing that he tries to put outside his schedule is you because he doesn’t like limiting the time he spends with his sweetheart. He cares so much about you that over the years he sees you as his equal, so he plans to inject you with the progenitor virus, a weaker strand because he can’t risk killing you. Because of this, he wants to do it on a special day, but the many opportunities that arrived didn’t fit in his schedule. The greatest gift he ever received was the power he got after breaking the confines of humanity, so he wants you to experience the same joy. Wesker kept thinking about it but he would get distracted by his work, so his present would always be in the planning stage. He doesn’t want to do it suddenly, he wants to introduce the idea slowly to you because he respects your boundaries.

Once you earned his respect, Wesker can be a very carrying partner, human even. He knows every little detail about his sweetheart, from her birthday to what she last ate. It can seem creepy when you put it like this, but this is nothing more than a lover who deeply cares about his partner and seeks to make her happy. Wesker is not the greatest at showing it though because of his work life. He has little to no time to show his affection. He still shows you that he is there for you, but not as much as he wants, making him more frustrated. Sometimes when he comes home from work he is so tired he barely sees you, let alone talk with you. He either collapses on the couch or bed and falls asleep as you talk with him because he is just too exhausted to carry the conversation. This doesn’t sit right with him because he gives all of his attention and energy to his work and doesn’t have any left for the only person that matters to him, making him wonder if it’s all worth it.

The relationship didn’t have a great start, since you expected Albert to be with you at least 8 hours a day but you’re lucky if you catch him once a week. He’s not the type to express himself and constantly expects others to read his mind, so you two would end up fighting. You have mistaken the lack of presence as rudeness and indifference, basing your reasoning on all the rumors you heard until you realized they were all stupid. Wesker proved to be the contrary, talking so nicely to you and not belittling you at all even if you piss him off. The amount of respect this man offered you even from the beginning is astonishing. He was so transparent with you and with all he does and he had so much patience until you understood. He was just a working man with probably burnout syndrome, so you took the responsibility to take care of him.

His phone buzzed since he started his work. Calls, messages, idiots without brains, as he calls them, needed help doing their job. When he had enough he picked up his phone and started to scroll down through notifications. Some of these people make him curse like a sailor, especially the one who texted him the most. As useful as Excella is in helping with his projects, as annoying she can be. Hundreds of messages and calls, some related to work some not. A particular question caught his attention.

“Do you think y/n would like this?” A picture of a purse was attached. Excella can’t stand you for obvious reasons, but out of respect for Albert, she tries to be friends with you. Still, why would Excella buy something for you out of the blue?

“Is something special today?” He thought.

The horrifying grimace when the realization hit cannot be described. Today is indeed a special day, your birthday. To be honest, he doesn’t care about birthdays. He despises them because they are a reminder of our mortality, but he knows how much you care about such occasions. Every year you got him something even if he insisted not to buy anything for him. Seeing you care and how much you enjoy receiving gifts he changed his mindset. Usually, he would give you something common, just as others would, but then he began to put more effort until there wasn’t anything material in this world to give. That’s how the progenitor virus gift arises in his head. However, he’s been so caught up with his research on Uroborus that he completely forgot to make the preparations. You don’t feel the days pass when you’re stuck in a lab all the time. He puts the phone aside, grabs his coat, and rushes out of the building ignoring the people that are trying to talk with him. If not the virus, he will have to find something common.

He’s not a fan of last minutes gifts but he has no choice. The guilt crushed him further as he remember he hasn’t talked with you all day. The ride to the jewels store felt like ages, even if it was relatively close. Luck was on his side since he found the store open.

None of the jewelry in front of him caught his attention because it wasn’t something he hopes of giving you. He already buried you in gold. You have the finest, unique, and expensive jewels in the world. He wouldn’t have been injected you in a lab of course. He wanted a special place for your rebirth. All of his ideas were put on paper, but probably got lost in the pile of reports. All he wanted was to see you smile on the most important day of your life, perhaps looking at him with the same eyes as his. He wanted to make you feel as you were the center of his universe, his queen, but he failed miserably. Maybe if he had gotten any outstanding results today he wouldn’t be so upset, but it was just another ordinary day. The lady tried talking with him but he was lost in his thoughts. Knowing it’s late and that you’re waiting for him, he bought a pearl necklace and left in hurry. On his way home he tried thinking of what to say, what excuse would be the best but he concluded that all of them were outdated.

Before opening the door, he hid the small package in the inner pocket of his coat. That lady was in hurry to close the store and didn't want to wrap the necklace if gift wrap. Wesker will remember that.

“I’m home!” He shouted once he entered. He may screw up, but he is not a man who runs away from conflict or a man who doesn’t own his mistakes.

“I thought you’d spend the night in your lab.” She said while giving him a peck on his cheek. “You need a vacation dear, you’ll be worn out before your time”

You were so carrying with him, so kind, but he couldn’t enjoy it. He didn’t deserve your kindness.

“There is something I need to tell you.”

“About?” You were starting to get worried. He left in hurry this morning and you didn’t hear anything from him all day. Excella told you briefly about him, but she talked more about the purse she bought for you which was more for her taste, not yours. Judging by his face you realized he had something on his mind, but you would never think it was because he forgot about your birthday. You expected him to talk about an outbreak rather than your forgotten birthday. To your surprise, he started apologizing.

“I was so caught up in my work I-“ he considers apologies a waste of time since we could do better things with our mortality and limited time, but for a reason, humans care about these.

“It’s alright my love.” You caress his face as a reassuring sign. “I understand.” You’re not upset at him. He genuinely cares about you and you can’t judge him, not after all the good things he has done for you. And besides, you know he doesn’t fully mean it, but you appreciate that he still does it for the sake of your feelings.

You began to caress his cheeks, to place small kisses all over his face. You see him rarely so you make sure to show him how much you love him as well. You hug him and he instantly hugged you back. After a while, you broke the hug and lead him to the couch so you can talk about each other’s day. He’s thankful you both moved on.

Eventually, you two got more comfortable. You let all your weight fall over his body as his strong arms were wrapped around your torso. His big hands were caressing your back while you found your peace in that small, almost suffocating, clasp. You almost fell asleep when a gentle squeeze woke you.

“I almost forgot.” He said, almost whispering, before handing you your gift. “It’s not what I had planned, but I hope you’ll find it enjoyable.”

Hazily, you took the small box Albert handled to you. It was a normal, jewelry box with the logo of the store on it. Inside there was a beautiful, shiny pearl necklace. Your delicate fingers touched the pearls with care, feeling their gritty texture and small bumps here and there. It weighs heavy in your hands. You fell in love instantly with the accessory. Seeing how happy you are, Albert offered to put it at your neck. Its elegance enhanced your natural beauty. It looks like it was made solely for you, like an extension of your body.

“I bet it was a lot.” You said with a somehow sorrow in your voice. You don’t want Albert to spend heavy money on you, because it’s his presence that you enjoy and value the most.

“Don’t worry about it, I like spending money on you.” And it was true, he loves dressing you in the most expensive clothing to flatter your body. You’re a goddess to him. Not to mention it strokes his ego to know that he’s able to provide such beautiful things to you. “At least this is what I can do.”

“And it’s perfect this way.” You can see him relax a little.

“I’ll make it up to you, I just need some time.” Time, mortality, death. Once again he was reminded of his plan that was supposed to fix humanity's greatest flaw, and his expression suddenly changed. That didn’t get past Y/N’s attention.

“Albert sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, some problems I need to solve.”

“Are they urgent?”

“Yes, very.”

“I’m sure they can wait until tomorrow.”

He scanned your body carefully. You weren’t getting any younger. Time left its mark on you. Not in an unpleasant way, but still noticeable.

“There something I need to tell you.” He said while sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you how you admire your new necklace. In the lights of the vanity mirror the pearls shine brighter, being more appealing than before making it impossible to take your eyes off them.

“What is it?” You said while gazing at your own reflection.

He choose his words carefully, but no matter how he put them, it could scare you. It’s not the time or the place. He doesn’t want to ruin your happiness. His actual surprise might not sit well with you, but it’s not your choice after all. If he considers it the best option for you he will do it regardless of your opinion. Still, this day came out better than he expected.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

Tags: @xx-sectumsempra-xx @residentzero2028 @heisentitties (dm if you wanna be in the tag list)

#resident evil #albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker fluff #commission #albert wesker x fem!reader

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cobaincreates · 3 years

Text

the fuck is a touron? pt. 2

warnings: language, mention of drugs & alcohol, smut (wrap it you're smart), very brief oral (male receiving), 18+

count: 9k+

part one is here! i hope you enjoy this as much as i did writing it! also remember when i said this has been sitting for a couple months?? welp, it’s been longer than that...oops. but it's all yours now!!! :)

taglist is always open. have a lovely weekend! photo cred

— — —

3 weeks earlier

a loud blare jolted you awake.

“what the fuck?”

you scrambled to stop the noise, your heart nearly jumping out of your chest. your head knocked into something hard as you twisted and tried to assemble your brain.

a clatter of what sounded like several bottles came from your right. the sound still rang out into the room—which was where exactly?

as you got to your hands and knees and shuffled against what felt like carpet, you remembered vaguely that you’d gone out last night. the carpet and dark room didn’t tell you much else. but the trilling alarm was enough to set you into a search to find that out.

“shut that off!” a voice yelled from behind you.

your hand knocked into more bottles and you grappled for one, feeling the familiar shape of a glass beer bottle. someone groaned in front of you then a blinding light pierced across your eyes. you sucked in a breath, dropping the bottle and covering your eyes.

what, were you a vampire? you peeked past your fingers to a parted curtain letting in a sliver of sunlight. you saw a little more of where you’d been, the light trail full of bottles and some sprawled legs and arms.

the alarm cut off suddenly. soft snores and labored breaths filled the silence now, along with a pounding in your ears so intense, you would’ve thought you were still hearing the alarm. a slow, gradual ache formed in the center of your forehead.

you blinked as your eyes adjusted to the light. a sparkling stiletto caught your attention, but it wasn’t on a foot. you looked around the room and spotted its twin near the back of a couch. crawling over, you found liza laying on her back with her hair messily splayed around her.

she was yawning while her phone lit up her face in a soft glow. when your eyes met, she whispered, “hey.”

you faintly remembered her setting an alarm on her phone somewhere in between jell-o shots and body shots. or was it after the jäger bombs?

you let out an oomf as you collapsed beside her on your stomach. your head didn’t let up the pounding. you made a noise, your words muffled against the stale-smelling carpet.

“what?” liza said, not having heard any coherent words.

you turned your head, the carpet scratching your cheek. “i said, nurse me back to health, please.”

“i told you not to do those lines,” she said, shaking her head.

“what?” you said a little too loudly, earning a few shh!s in return.

“i’m kidding,” liza laughed.

you grimaced, mostly at her but also at the hair in your mouth. you reached up to remove it and sat up while liza looked at her phone.

“what time is it?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder around the room.

no one else had moved from liza’s wake-up alarm. your vision was clearer now and you took in the trashed room. bottles lay everywhere, a few staining the carpet in dark puddles. a lamp was on the floor, its shade across the room over someone’s head. it was warm considering the blackout curtains keeping the morning sun out and you couldn’t imagine sleeping in here any longer.

your head pounded again as liza said, “noon.”

“can we go? i might throw up from how hot it is in here.” you pulled at your dress, wanting nothing more than to get under some cold water.

liza sat up and looked around, dropping her phone into her lap. “i need my other shoe.”

“it’s over here,” you said and crawled to retrieve it for her.

she put it on, her dress riding up her thighs before she stood and pulled it back down. you took her offered hand so she could help you up. your heels sank into the carpet and you looked down, finding a soggy spot where beer had seeped in. you frowned and grabbed ahold of liza’s arm to find your way out.

your small crossbody clutch was resting on the couch cushion and you reached for it over a girl’s sleeping form, careful not to wake her. she made a small noise and you snatched it quickly, feeling the weight of your phone inside.

liza ordered an uber to bring you back to campus. it was fifteen minutes away and you panicked for a brief moment from not knowing where the hell you were. last night was a whole blur apart from arriving and getting into the swing of things. you remember dancing and drinking and having fun with liza and a few other friends. it wasn’t usual for you to sleep at random people’s houses after parties, but last night must have been a little more eventful than others.

you let out a long breath you didn’t know you were holding as you sank into the back of the uber driver’s car. luckily, you didn’t get someone hopped up on coffee or blasting music. it was quiet and calm, enough so that you closed your eyes.

speaking of coffee, you could really use one. and food. and a shower. had you really slept on that nasty carpet last night? you shuddered and opened your eyes.

fishing out your phone from your clutch, you saw a few notifications from last night and the past few hours. you ignored them for now and unlocked your phone with the goal of texting one of your friends who worked at the diner in town and begging him to have your usual ready when you got there. it was all you could think about as your stomach rumbled.

but when you unlocked your phone, your eyebrows drew together. your screen opened to an internet tab, a little plane logo at the top corner.

“why the fuck did i buy a ticket to the outer banks?” you blurted to no one in particular. well, maybe to your friend beside you, who lived in the outer banks.

liza lolled her head toward you on the back of the seat, not at all looking as concerned as you felt. “you’re visiting, remember? i talked you into buying it last night.”

“why?” your head seemed to throb even worse.

you couldn’t go to the outer banks. you didn’t have the money for it and the ticket on your internet browser said you’d even bought a round trip one. god, why had you done that? you were saving up for the summer. you were saving up to see so much more than the outer banks. as much as you loved liza, and you knew she’d love to have you there, you would be wasting a weekend. how were you going to tell your boss that you needed off at such short notice?

liza shrugged beside you. “because my dad will be gone for a whole weekend and i’m throwing the biggest party ever and you love me and you promised to dance to ‘back that ass up’ with me there.”

“oh my god,” you groaned and dropped your phone into your lap. you rubbed your pulsing temples. “i can’t go, liza. i really need the money.”

“hence why you have a job—said job will pay that back in a week. you’re fine,” she waved her hand and turned back to the window.

“i need to work that weekend,” you argued. just thinking about asking for it off had your skin crawling.

“you can take time off. you never do.” liza shrugged, looking at you again. her face softened when she noticed how distraught you were over it. “look, if you really don’t want to, then just cancel it. it’s okay if you don’t come.”

your fingers came away from your head as you saw that she was being genuine. she may have joked around with you a lot, but she meant it when she said that.

friday

getting time off wasn’t easy. your boss acted like the ultimate villain in a boss level from a video game, having you go through all of these obstacles just to get three days off. you understood it, you were short-staffed anyways and it was hard, but you couldn’t help feeling as though they were a little harsh on you. it was always a fight to get time off, even when you showed up every day, on time, and did your work without complaint.

right after you talked to your boss, feeling the ultimate amount of shame over requesting three days, you searched high and low for someone to cover your shift. turns out, it wasn’t all that difficult to begin with since one of your co-workers—who just had a baby and was still a full-time student—told you they’d appreciate the extra hours. you felt instantly better afterward until your boss asked you to fill out three separate sheets for the time off. no, you couldn’t just write the three days on one sheet. it had to be three. separate. sheets.

it was completely ridiculous and uncalled for. you fumed for a while, pressing way too hard on your pen as you filled them out. once you set them on their desk, all filled out properly, you reminded yourself you could quit soon. just a few more months of the semester and you’d be gone.

the next day when you came in, your boss had allegedly lost those request papers. and funnily enough, they allowed you to put the weekend dates on one paper this time. you’d stared at them for a whole three minutes, paper in your hand and tongue between your teeth with angry words just dying to get out. you can quit soon. you can quit soon.

the weeks dragged by before the day finally arrived and you left for your flight. it was only when you got off the plane that the hours started to fly by. it was colder this time around, which you didn’t mind, even on the breezy ferry ride. you were looking forward to campfires and cozy sweaters.

you hopped off the ferry around noon and right into liza’s waiting arms at the dock. she was overjoyed about you visiting and you knew all the trouble with work was worth it just to get away for a little. you were young, there was no shame in a little time off, and liza was right—you’d already earned the money back for the ticket.

liza’s dad was bustling around their house when you arrived, packing like a crazy person on a time crunch. he threw a hello at you as he shuffled past with an armful of socks and possibly underwear, which had you lifting an eyebrow at liza. she shoved your arm and took your bag into the guest bedroom.

“where’s your dad running off to? can i go?” you teased, dropping your backpack onto the light green comforter. the white walls seemed brighter this time, but you accounted it for the new sheer curtains over the windows facing the back of the house.

“he’s going on a business trip. and no, you can’t. his girlfriend is going with him.” liza left your bag near the dresser and hopped on the bed, the comforter sighing under her weight.

“girlfriend? aw, man.” you frowned dramatically and lay on your stomach beside her. “do we like this girlfriend?”

“she’s very...” her left eye squinted as she thought. “eccentric. like, i don’t know how to take it. he seems happy though.”

“like, weird eccentric or crazy eccentric?”

“i don’t know. i haven’t breached the abortion topic with her yet. that could be very telling, don’t you think?” a playful smile hinted at her lips.

“totally telling,” you agreed.

minutes later, you were waving liza’s dad off as he pulled out of the driveway, liza standing a few steps in front of you. once he was gone and out of sight down the drive, liza turned back to you with a flourish and a cheshire grin spread on her face. you laughed as she pushed you into the house and began jumping excitedly. music started playing somewhere in between the jumping, which promptly turned to dancing in the kitchen. having a whole house to yourselves was always a thrilling thing.

it wasn’t long after that that liza told you to get ready for a party at the boneyard, as she called it. you had no idea whether to take that literally or just go along with it and be surprised. you went with the latter as you changed out of your airport clothes.

as you were heading that way, you thought about that one fling you had the last time you were here. what was his name? something rich, with a t. tom? trenton? no, no, something obscure. topper. god, you nearly forgot about him, but now that you were visiting again, you wondered if he was around. in the middle of the semester seemed like your luck would be out.

liza was slowing the car as you thought to text topper, just to see if he was here. you hadn’t talked since that summer—what was it? seven months ago? you hadn’t felt the need to keep in touch. didn’t he say to shoot him a text when you were in town again? you supposed there was no harm in doing so. what could be the worst thing to happen? maybe he wouldn’t be in town, but you wouldn’t be all that bummed about not having a hookup. you weren’t as ravenous as you were in the summer.

“are you getting out?”

your head turned and you found liza standing with the door open, her keys dangling from her hand. you hadn’t noticed that the car had parked or that you’d arrived at wherever the boneyard was. the beach was right in front of you, just over a small crest in the sand. you could smell it slipping into the car from where liza held the door propped open.

you opened your own door and hopped out, the gravel crunching under your shoes. you were glad you opted for a sweater with the early spring wind from the water as it blew over your shoulders and tangled into your hair.

a handful of people were already on the beach, stripped driftwood scattered around. most used them as seats while there was a fire already going and drinks in their hands. you couldn’t help but smile at the sight, a giddiness filling your chest. this was exactly what you needed and the perfect setting for it.

liza pulled you into a group with some familiar faces that you had met the last time around. small talk was immediately flowing and you couldn’t care less for it, but you welcomed it anyways. liza was quick to guide you to the next group and the next before you finally got comfortable with a drink in hand. you sipped it steadily and ditched your shoes with liza’s, sticking them under a piece of driftwood behind where you stood. one of liza’s friends was asking you about your degree, something along the lines of why you had chosen it. you couldn’t comprehend it fully as your eyes drifted around the sand where people stood in small groups and larger ones.

standing near an overturned lifeguard post that was sure to be rotting away was none other than topper. he was facing away from you, but you had no doubt in your mind that it was him. his hair was blonder than it was when you met, funnily enough in the colder months. he wore a sweatshirt (blue or dark green, you couldn’t tell) paired with shorts and (surprisingly) sneakers.

you turned back to liza’s friend, giving them a somewhat vague but good answer. you then excused yourself and split from the group to head in topper’s direction. you stopped just outside of his larger group and crossed your arms, holding on to your beer by the neck loosely. it took a minute or two for topper to notice you, obviously feeling a presence behind him and doing a double-take. you already had a smirk on your face.

“holy shit, hi.” he blinked rapidly, turning away from his friends.

“hi,” you laughed. both of you went in for a hug at the same time. topper pressed your waist firmly to his while you hugged him around his shoulders.

“it’s good to see you,” you said.

“yeah, you too.” there was surprise in his voice and features as if he never thought he would see you again. your hand slipped down his arm as you pulled away before you took a step back, your hands resting at your sides.

“how have—“

“hey! the touron’s back!” a voice over his shoulder shouted.

you looked in its direction, finding a menacing smirk on an all too familiar face. you couldn’t remember his name as he sipped arrogantly on a beer, perched on the rotting lifeguard’s post.

you found your own sweet smile and raised your free hand to flip him off, which only egged him on more as his laughter filtered out. you were instantly annoyed, although you didn’t show it as he had brought unwanted attention to you and topper. you were sure most of the people in this larger group had been on topper’s deck that day in the summer.

topper looked at a loss for words when you turned back to him, his eyes still on you. you were glad he wasn’t laughing at his friend’s comment.

“can i get you another drink?” he gestured to the bottle between your fingers and you glanced down, seeing that it was a sip away from empty.

you gave him a nod as you said, “sure.”

the sun was setting by the time you got a refill, the glass cold against your palm, and wandered off with topper toward the water. conversation flowed as you caught up, shrugging as you told him all you had been doing was working and studying. you were lucky if you got to go out and have fun once in a while. topper expressed the same, talking animatedly about college and visiting home for the weekend to see his friends.

you wondered what he was like at college, if he spent most of his quieter hours in the library reading articles or if he was the type of friend to take up guard in the kitchen at parties. it was easy to imagine him in those situations since you hardly knew him. his smirking friend certainly didn’t seem the type.

you flicked some wet sand into the water, imagining the waves bringing it back to settle at your feet. topper stood beside you, the wind tousling his locks. you had just mentioned how your mother had bought a new coffee machine and how your dad canceled it because there was no point in having two. your mother just figured it would be easier having two so no one had to wait on the single-cup brewing system. it made you laugh and roll your eyes when you heard about it over the phone. topper had been smiling the whole time as he listened, his head inclined like you were whispering.

a rush of heat had slithered down between your thighs when you caught his eyes a couple times. he was just watching you as you spoke and you couldn’t help but smile flirtatiously, wondering if he was thinking what you were thinking.

how you were imagining last summer and the feel of his hands on your skin. you wished you’d gotten to know more of him; if he had any scars or little beauty marks that you didn’t notice the first time. it was easy to imagine it, but you had the burning curiosity to see for yourself.

you needed to take a break, to get a gulp of air before you drowned in the thought and jumped his bones right here and now.

“i should go find liza,” you said abruptly even though no one had been speaking. “i’ll see you around?”

topper nodded without a word and you caught a glimpse of confusion on his face, but you walked away. you let out a deep breath as you felt the wet sand turn dry under your feet. the sky was an inky pink behind you, windshields on cars reflecting it back.

you wrapped an arm around liza when you found her and she smiled knowingly. you didn’t have to ask if she’d seen you with topper, it was quite obvious in such an open area.

topper took up his place with the group you took him away from, but this time he was facing your way. you closed your lips around your bottle, staring back at him as he did the same thing. a shiver went up your legs, goosebumps exposing to the crisp air around you. you had to look away before you walked over there and kissed the hell out of him. your heart was behaving rather poorly now.

but could you help it? every time he looked at you as the sky grew darker and the bonfire grew larger, every obscene image possible took shelter behind your eyes. your mouth dried out so many times that you eventually had to get another drink and another. topper wasn’t making it easy and you started digging holes with your feet just to stay put.

you wouldn’t go to him, you made that very clear to yourself. if topper wanted you, then he’d have to make the first move. stubborn as it was maybe, but you’d torture him if you had to like he was torturing you now with all of these looks under his lashes. christ.

“my god,” liza said into your ear as she stood on the driftwood behind you, arms around your neck. “you’d think topper was a starving man.”

“shut up,” you laughed and looked at a fallen log in the fire pit.

“i’m serious. you guys have been undressing each other for an hour and a half now. just go over there and make out with him.”

you smiled into your drink, keeping your eyes far away from topper, or else you might actually do just that.

“there’s hardly any pda going on as it is, we need entertainment,” liza sighed.

“there’s your entertainment,” you nodded your head toward a rowdy group of young high schoolers shouting at each other. three of them looked angry as all hell and there was a bit of shoving before one of the older college boys broke it apart.

“that was short-lived,” liza frowned as she hopped down from the driftwood.

“you want another drink?” you asked her as she finished off her last one.

“yes, please!” she beamed as you took her bottle and tossed them into a nearby trash bin. you headed for the stocked cooler and grabbed two beers. as you stood, topper was making his way over.

“you have any plans after this?” he asked without much preamble.

you smiled, pulling the tops off and taking a sip from your own, eyeing him as you did. that flicker of heat made its way back between your thighs, warming you all over. you couldn’t deny the suggestion in his question excited you and you were giving yourself a mental pat on the back for being patient.

“nope, i’m all yours.”

topper smiled slowly, his eyes flicking to your lips as you licked them. okay, maybe jumping his bones here and now wasn’t a terrible idea. but you needed to string this out, you wanted it to last—whatever it was.

“i don’t want to leave yet though. i’ll come find you?” it implied that you’d make him wait longer than you really would, but it was satisfying to see him practically drool at the thought of what was to come.

liza was giddy when you went back over, either for the beer or when you told her that you’d be going off with topper for a little. she smirked, knowing exactly what for, but she didn’t mind. she wasn’t leaving anytime soon, and not without you.

you didn’t make topper wait long. when you were ready, another beer in and a relieved bladder, you touched topper’s elbow as he talked with his friends closer to the cooler. the ice was partly melted, but there were still plenty of drinks left. the fire was feeding off sweltering heat, and with the cold wind, it was perfect.

“hey, you ready?” you asked when topper turned to you.

you weren’t sure exactly what topper had in mind when he had asked you if you were busy for the rest of the night, but not having a clue thrilled you a little.

“yeah,” he nodded and took the last sip from his beer. his slid his hand up, capturing yours before tugging you along toward the parked cars. hardly anyone was over there. you could faintly hear voices and sounds from inside a few cars, some windows cracked. your fingertips warmed as your heart beat, pushing blood to every corner.

topper’s jeep came in sight and you tried to remember the inside. was there enough room for both of you in the back seat? or maybe you’d share one of the front ones. it didn’t matter to you, as long as he put his lips to use.

your back met the side of the jeep as topper leaned his hands on the window, caging you in. you were quick to close the space between you, either the beer taking the reins or your lack of patience from the past few hours of being here and having a staring contest with him. your breaths mingled and your hands grabbed fistfuls of his sweatshirt to pull him closer. the familiar tingles spread between your thighs and you wasted no time in showing him how impatient you were.

“i don’t think either of us is fit enough to drive, topper,” you breathed when you had the chance.

there was no way you could drive with everything you drank. topper tasted like the beer too, but you weren’t sure if he was fit enough to drive either. you didn’t want to chance it, nor could you wait that long.

“what do you want to do?” he asked against the skin of your neck, his nose skimming up the side. he pressed a few kisses, getting closer to your jaw.

you tilted your head back against the door and sighed, closing your eyes momentarily then opening them to find a few stars winking at you. there were so many once you focused on them. topper interrupted your gaze, pulling you by the back of your head to his lips. he kissed you as if you were his last meal, his tongue licking into your mouth. you moaned, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his hair. you remembered him being this much of a good kisser.

“let’s find a spot on the beach,” you suggested, only getting a kiss on the corner of his mouth before he pulled away.

his eyes were blown wide, his hair ruffled. if you looked hard enough, his cheeks were sure to be flushed, both from alcohol and excitement.

“seriously?” he asked, his hand stilling on the back of your head.

you laughed and nodded, brushing a lock of his hair. “yeah, why not?”

a cold wind blew, tossing your hair into your eyes. topper caught it and pushed it back to its spot behind your ear.

“i think you’re the girl of my dreams,” he joked.

you grinned and slid your hands down his chest. “do you have a towel?”

topper had to pick his jaw up off the gravel before he finally moved away from you and opened his jeep. he ruffled around in the back then finally pulled out a blanket.

“very resourceful,” you commented as he closed the door.

“never know when you might need it,” he said as he threw it around you, shielding your bare legs from the wind. he turned again to the jeep and bent over the driver’s seat to get something. you saw it was a condom when he turned back and closed the door.

“also resourceful.”

he laughed then took your hand back in his. you headed back toward the beach but in the opposite direction of where the bonfire was. it was quieter the further you got, nothing but the waves coming into the shore. it was darker too; all the more private.

topper took the blanket from you and settled it down. you took a seat as he fixed a corner, swiping sand that had gotten on to it. once he sat beside you, he pulled you back against his lips.

you knelt up and scooted closer, placing your hands on his shoulders for leverage as you swung a leg over his waist. you sat in his lap and hummed as you felt him against your thigh. he squeezed you closer in response.

“i’ve never fucked someone on a beach before,” you admitted as you slipped your hands under his sweatshirt and the t-shirt beneath, pushing them up.

“i’ve never fucked anyone outside before.”

“what?” you pulled away to look down at him, your hands freezing on his chest. he was breathing deeply and you swore you felt the patter of his heart against your fingertips. “really?”

“yeah,” he shrugged and glanced over your shoulder toward the water. “just never had the chance to try.”

“what do you mean? you live on an island.” you let his clothes fall back down, stopping above his belly button. “i’ve been here twice and i’ve seen at least twenty ideal places that would be perfect for it.”

“i don’t know, i never asked anyone and no one asked me.” he shrugged again and you knew you were looking way too into this, but it seemed impossible that he hadn’t done this at least once before. you knew that if you lived here, you would’ve done it countless times.

your hands slid back up. “well, tonight’s your lucky night.”

you pulled topper back to your lips, tongues meeting. his hands rubbed along your back and you couldn’t help but arch into him as he slipped them beneath your sweater. his hands were so warm that it felt as if he set fire to your skin. you moaned and sunk your teeth into his lip briefly. a shiver wrecked your body just as topper’s hands came around to your front, sliding up to your breasts. you felt your nipples peek at the contact and topper made it even worse when his thumbs brushed over them.

“christ, it’s cold,” you mumbled as another shiver came and went.

“mhmm,” he hummed. “i’m sure that’s what it is.”

you laughed and wanted to swat at him. instead, you swallowed that little bit of nerves edging close to the surface and reached a hand to his lap. you watched as topper’s lips parted as your hand squeezed him over his shorts. the fabric was soft as topper grew harder. you relished in his expression, the way his eyebrows were drawn together, and how his jaw flinched when he closed his mouth.

topper’s hands fell away as you stood. he looked ready to pull you back down until he realized what you were doing and watched closely as you pulled your shorts and underwear down together. you kicked them aside and shivered as another wind blew.

sitting over topper again, you knelt up onto your knees to pull his shorts down. you couldn’t help swallowing at the sight of him. as dark as it was, you could still see him pretty well. your hand wrapped around him, solid and warm in your palm. topper groaned and leaned back on his hands.

“where’s the condom?” you asked as you stroked him, not at all in a rush with your hand around him.

topper registered your question and patted around the blanket for a moment before holding a square packet between his fingers. you took it from him and bit down on an edge, ripping it open with your free hand. you took the rubber between your fingers and spat the packaging somewhere. topper’s breathing became swallow all the while you stroked him. you stopped and rolled the condom onto him then leaned forward for a kiss.

topper reciprocated, his hands grabbing ahold of your hips until he pulled away to look up at you.

“what if you get sand in your vagina?” he asked, an innocent tone wrapping around his voice.

you couldn’t help the smile or the way your eyebrows furrowed all the while wanting to laugh. that’s what he’s thinking about?

“nothing that hasn’t happened before. it usually takes a couple of days to get rid of but i��ll be fine.”

the topic didn’t stop there. “does it hurt?”

“no, i’ll be fine,” a small laugh slipped out. “that’s why we have a blanket. and i’m on top. can we stop talking about sand getting in my vagina now? it’s kind of killing the mood.”

“sorry,” he shook his head, an embarrassed expression taking form.

you snorted, laughter bubbling up your throat. how did that question even come about in his head? you supposed it was nice of him to care about such a thing. you hoped your laughter didn’t make him feel more embarrassed.

his expression morphed into an amused one and he joined in, laughing at his odd question. you both shook with laughter for a few moments until you calmed down. topper squeezed his fingers on your hips, dragging his palms down your thighs. you brought your lips back to his and your hands to his chest. pushing him gently, you went with him as he lay down. you stayed against him for a couple more seconds before sitting up over him and finding him in your hand again.

topper groaned and gripped your thighs as you brought him into your heat. you couldn’t find your breath as you took him all the way in and sat over him, feeling completely and utterly filled. he was in your stomach, under your skin, everywhere.

“fuck, yes,” you panted, branding your palms on his stomach, pushing his sweatshirt and shirt up again. he was flushed from head to toe, something you were slowly building up to be.

you started off rocking back and forth slowly, feeling him pull and glide inside of you. when you dragged your clit against his skin, which was getting hotter and hotter with the friction, you couldn’t help the way your body tightened around him.

“y/n. oh, fuck—you gotta bounce for me,” topper choked out underneath you, moving his hands to your waist to grip tightly.

you nodded without words, not really finding any with your tongue tied. your hands pushed against his stomach as you lifted yourself up, letting almost all of him leave you empty. then you slammed down, moaning as loud as you could. you didn’t care. not one bit. you were still aware of the bonfire happening yards away, but you didn’t care if someone from the party was walking this way and heard you. let them hear how good topper felt inside you.

a quicker pace was set, sweat building in the creases of your knees and under your hands planted against topper. you loved this. all you could think about was how good it felt, how you fucked topper hard and fast—and how you were getting to fuck him again. it was so much better than the first time, even though you loved having him behind you then. this was just as good.

topper was sitting up again, your sweater rubbing against his and your body feeling way too hot. his hands gripped your ass tightly, helping you rock your hips over him. you were close, closer every time your clit brushed against him at this angle.

it became too much very quickly. you held on to him by his hair at the back of his head, gripping so tightly your knuckles were probably white, and reached your other hand down to touch yourself. your moans were growing higher and more frequent and topper was full-blown panting in your face. when you reached your end, a strangled sound came out of you. you stilled over topper, pulling more of his hair as you came over him.

not long after when you were moving again over him, your mouth on his neck and arms around his shoulders, his grip tightened on your ass as he came. you hummed and gave a few pecks just before he let go and fell onto his back. you followed, moving off of him and laying on your side.

“how long are you here?” topper asked minutes later, his breathing leveling out.

“i leave sunday morning,” you said, blinking tired eyes open as a wind blew over you.

“can i see you again?”

you smiled, your eyes shifting to topper beside you. “don’t you mean can you fuck me again?”

his lips spread wide and if his eyes were open, you had a feeling he’d be rolling them. laughing, you pushed yourself onto your elbow and touched his cheek.

“liza is having a party tomorrow. you should come,” you said quietly, leaning down to brush your lips over his.

“okay.”

“that was easy.”

“it doesn’t take much to convince me,” his voice was tired, piquing your interest.

“am i that good?”

all you got in return was a low laugh.

“i’m taking that as a ‘hell yes’ so thank you very much.”

topper let out a noise just before he moved, pushing you onto your back. his lips landed over yours, gentle and thorough.

saturday

it was a blur of drinks and games and dancing at liza’s house. every room was filled and it was hot for a few hours until you stationed yourself out on the deck with topper. you could lie and say that you didn’t sit out there just to make out with him, but that’s exactly what you did. it was perfect—even more perfect when his shitty friends didn’t show up with him. if you hadn’t been so distracted by his mouth, you would’ve thanked him then and there.

hours later, you had met topper at the front door. you informed liza of your new plans and she was more than happy to get you out of her hair, especially when her eyes latched on to someone and she started to drool into her drink. you grinned fiendishly at her and quickly went on your way.

topper was unlocking his front door and your legs were still a little tingly from the drinks you had over the past few hours. your hand absentmindedly ran along his forearm, needing to feel him so you could stay grounded and alert.

“if you don’t open this door, i’m going to fall asleep right on this porch.”

topper laughed, his keys jingling in his hand. it was a few more seconds of him trying without a light until he eventually found the keyhole and the door swung open. there was a rug that the bottom of the door brushed over and topper walked ahead of you, leading you in by the arm you refused to let go of. he was warm and solid. if you let go, you might evaporate.

your eyes adjusted with the lack of light in the entryway as topper closed the door behind you, sliding the lock into place. your skin felt like it was humming, the hairs on your arm standing up as you stayed close to topper. his shoes scuffed as he kicked them off, his keys dropping onto a table near the door while his other hand wrapped around your wrist. he lured you in by heat alone and you leaned in. your lips landed on his shirt, but you moved them until you found warm skin past the neckline.

reaching down, you found the strap of your sandals and worked to get them undone. why you wore sandals was completely lost on you as you struggled. topper grabbed ahold of you so you wouldn’t fall while your lips pressed a few more kisses into his neck. his hands were searing against your shirt and your skin pricked with the need to have them everywhere.

you kicked off your shoes, feeling your bare foot brush other pairs as topper grabbed ahold of your neck. you didn’t know where he was leading you until his lips landed against your cheek. he adjusted to where he meant to land and opened your lips with his own, coaxing your tongue with his. you moaned as if you were melting, your hands moving along his back as your body relaxed into his. another noise slipped from you, your hands moving down to his hips. one of them you let venture further until you felt him straining against his jeans.

topper gasped, his breath fanning over your mouth and down your neck. you grinned as you squeezed him just so you could see how he’d react.

it was cut short by light flooding the room and burning behind your eyelids. you flinched, parting from topper and squinting.

you were doing so well with no interruptions.

“topper? oh—i’m sorry,” a voice came from your left and you held your eyes open long enough to see a woman standing there, her hand falling from the light switch.

you suddenly remembered where you were holding topper and you dropped your hand, a hot blush crawling up onto your cheeks. you shuffled away from topper faster than he did at composing himself. was it wishful thinking to hope this woman didn’t see where your hand was placed a second ago?

“mom,” topper breathed, hiding his lack of breath well. your own heart was beating so loudly in your ears you figured the woman could hear it too in the entryway.

you averted your eyes, embarrassment dousing you from head to toe at the fact that you’d been caught by topper’s mother.

“we’ll be in my room,” topper said. his hand engulfed yours and you couldn’t remember how to use your feet or legs. “night.”

you kept your head down as topper tugged you past his mother, her robe flowing with the movement. he guided you through the unlit house until you came to his room.

“christ,” he sighed and dropped your hand to close the door. “i’m sorry about that.”

“it’s inevitable when you live with parents,” you shrugged and laughed, looking over your shoulder as topper rubbed his hands down his face. when he dropped them, he shook his head with an amused smile.

you turned back to his room and glanced around, the light a little brighter from the open windows. the decorations were the same, but for the most part it didn’t look all that lived in. you moved to his bed and sat at the end of it, running your hands along the comforter and remembering the last time you were here.

your eyes found topper’s like a magnet. your skin pricked with that awareness of him. reaching, you pulled your shirt off and let it fall beside you. topper watched, his eyes following every movement you made, his gaze moving over you like liquid.

you held your hand out towards him, coaxing him over where you sat. he approached until he was in front of you and even then, you pulled him closer with your hands on his hips again. your eyes fluttered shut as he came between your legs and touched your face, bending down to plant kisses on your forehead, cheeks, and nose. your thighs tightened around him, your hand dropping back to its original spot before you were interrupted. topper kissed you on the mouth then, his tongue hot and invading.

you pushed your palm into him a few times and rubbed until his breath was heavy in your mouth. even though you were kissing him and delighting in the ways he could use his tongue, your mouth felt dry for him. a moment later, your fingers glided up to the button of his jeans, working determinedly to unfasten them.

when his shirt was off and his jeans were unbuttoned, you nudged him backward, slipping from the bed and onto your knees. you pressed your lips along his stomach, feeling it tighten under your mouth as his hands brushed your hair back.

“tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” you said quietly, looking up at him as your fingers fisted the waistband of his jeans, slipping into his boxers too.

topper heaved a breath and nodded. you pressed another kiss just beside his belly button as you tugged on his bottoms, pulling them past his hips and leaving them to rest just above his knees.

you didn’t waste any more time. you took him into your mouth within the first few seconds of him smacking his stomach. he moaned with your lips around him and held your face as you licked him thoroughly. you couldn’t stop once you started and it took everything in you not to give him that release as his hand tightened on your face and his hips began to move.

he didn’t protest or get upset when you pulled away, licking your lips and standing. he just kissed you deeply and you wondered if he liked the taste of himself in your mouth. you certainly did.

all of your blood was gathered at your center. your skin was bubbling to a boil and topper helped you cool down, shedding the rest of the clothes between you. your hands wandered all over him as you sat back on the bed, pulling him with you.

you separated for only a second to kiss just under his ear, panting, “i want you inside me. now. i have an IUD.”

topper’s hands paused, his fingertips brushing the underside of your breast. “no condom?” he asked, pulling away further to meet your eyes.

you nodded, biting your lip to keep from putting him inside you now. “as long as you’re okay with it?”

“are you sure?” his eyebrows furrowed and you couldn’t tell if he was worried about you or if he really didn’t want to.

you nodded again as you were having trouble finding words without your breath. “have you been tested lately?”

“before i came home. i’m clean,” he said, his hands moving again and squeezing your thighs.

you grinned as your stomach rolled. you pulled him back to you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and smiling against his lips. “me too,” you managed to say and laughed as the excitement poured over.

topper’s skin suddenly felt too hot, but you couldn’t pull your hands away from him if you tried. more blood rushed in between your legs. topper kissed you a few times before pulling away and leaning forward, his hand moving to your lower back to hold you upright while his other landed on the comforter to hold himself up. you drew your legs up around him and tugged him closer, breathing heavily as you anticipated his next move.

he swallowed thickly and averted his eyes down, his hand leaving your skin to grab ahold of himself. you bit your lip as you watched, seeing him swollen and ready and practically dripping. your stomach rolled into a tight ball as his hips grew closer and you bit your lips shut as a noise of surprise left you, floating around the room, when topper dragged his head along your folds painstakingly slow.

as much as you wanted to close your eyes to completely let your senses take over, you lifted them to topper’s face. he closed his eyes as he poked his head at your entrance. when he started to slip inside slowly, his mouth opened and his hand went back to hold you. you held your breath as you felt him inch after inch, filling you and stretching you.

his head fell to your shoulder once he was completely inside, a muffled curse leaving his lips.

“oh my god,” you said at the same time as he said, “god, you feel amazing.”

his hips retracted slowly, just as slow as how he entered, and his lips guided back to yours.

“c-can you move back a little?” he asked. the angle was probably straining him unlike you.

you nodded and didn’t have to do all that much as his hand kept you close to him, keeping himself inside of you, as you moved further onto the bed. you laid on your back and moaned as topper started to move, pinning your hips below his.

“you need to be quiet,” he said.

“why?”

“because my mom is right down the hall.”

“so? she obviously knows what we’re doing.”

“still.”

“oh, topper,” you moaned a little louder, a smile curling the corners of your lips.

topper’s hand landed over your mouth. you laughed into his palm and opened up to bite on his finger.

“you should move that hand a little lower,” you suggested, rolling your hips into his.

topper laughed breathily and a moment later, moved his hand to your neck. his hips drew back then and he thrusted, harder than before.

“oh, fuck,” you panted, tightening your hold on him.

“you like that?” he asked, his fingers flexing on your throat.

“mhm,” you managed, your face screwing up. “just like that.”

you sucked in a gasp, your breath staying in your lungs as topper did it again. you couldn’t look at him, couldn’t do anything but feel everything he was doing to you from your throat to him between your thighs. your back arched, pushing your breasts into his chest. you cried out the next time he thrust, hitting you so deeply, your nipples peeked to hardened points. fuck.

“don’t stop,” you couldn’t stop gasping. “please, don’t stop. it feels so good.”

tears pricked your eyes as he did it again, picking up a rhythm and sticking to it. his hand let go of your throat and gathered your hands into his, pinning them above your head as he fucked into you. the harder he went, the more your nails dug into the backs of his hands. his fingers tightened over yours and you cried out with your hips smacking. he didn’t cover your mouth this time, suddenly not caring if his mom heard you. you didn’t care either, you wanted this to go on all night. hopefully it would.

tears spilled when he didn’t let up his grip or his pace. they fell more as he drove into you quicker. it hurt so good, you couldn’t breathe. you didn’t dare open your eyes to see if he was enjoying it too. you hoped he was, you hoped he was loving pinning your hands down, driving into you like an animal. you didn’t know topper had this in him.

his hand let go of one of yours but you left it where it was as his thumb flicked your clit. your breaths grew higher within seconds and you tightened around him, your free hand flying to his arm where your nails dug in deep. you couldn’t stop the cry bubbling in your chest even if you wanted to. it was going to come out whether you liked it or not and topper wasn’t doing anything to muffle it.

“fuck—i’m going to come,” he sighed, his voice strained. was he losing it too? “come for me, please, baby. come with me.”

“top—” your muscles spasmed and everything exploded. you cried out his name however many times as you came over him, feeling him do the same as he thrusted and emptied inside you. his spurts were heavy and warm as his face buried into your neck, his mouth slick one moment then his teeth latching on to you. you grabbed the back of his head and pulled at his hair as he bit you, not hard enough to break the skin, but it still hurt so good.

“oh my god,” you panted as topper lay limp on you. you could feel both of your orgasms dissipating as your juices mixed and dripped out of you.

having let go of your neck, topper licked over the pulsing spot and lifted his head up to look down at you.

“are you okay?” he asked, sweat collected along his hairline. his thumb brushed your drying tears away.

“that was—i—topper,” you shook your head, wishing you could find the words. “i feel very good right now.”

he laughed, shaking your body with his and making you moan as you felt him rub inside of you. “i’m glad,” he said, kissing the underside of your jaw. “i think we need water and snacks so i’m going to go get some.”

“mmm. that’s a good idea.” you couldn’t bring yourself to wipe his sweat away just to feel it on your fingertips. you were spent.

he smiled and pecked your numb lips before sliding out of you and getting up.

cleaned up and under the covers, topper laid out an array of snacks and water bottles. you sat propped up against his pillows while he lay on his side, his head propped against his hand.

“will you come back next summer?” he asked, popping a piece of fruit into his mouth.

you reached for the cereal bowl of chocolate and stopped the smile from stretching across your face. “maybe.”

“i was looking for an answer more along the lines of yes.”

“you’ll have to be more persuasive then,” you hummed and chewed.

“i can be persuasive.” he was grinning and you couldn’t help thinking that he never looked better. tired, hair messy, dressed in just boxers, completely sated.

“oh yeah?” you raised a brow at him.

“mhmm,” he nodded, putting the fruit down and moving onto his hands and knees to crawl towards you. he grabbed ahold of the comforter and pulled it back a little, revealing your chest to the cool air. his head lowered to press a single kiss to the swell of your breast. then he moved to the other. he pressed a final kiss to your shoulder.

“how’s that?”

you shrugged the shoulder he just kissed and kept the smile off your face. mostly.

topper grinned again and it reached his eyes. he looked over you, down your chest, then slid his hand under the blanket to your thigh. “am i getting closer?”

you gasped and grabbed onto the back of his neck as his fingers ran up the inside of your thigh. heat swirled between your legs. “definitely.”

⭐️taglist of beauties & babes⭐️

@tovvaa @taylathornton @dontjinx-it @moniamaybank @drewstarkeygf @clearbolts @jjmaybankzz @macey730 @twinklelilstarkey @disrecpectful @mrs-cameron @jjcanloveme @igotmajordaddyissues @ohhersheybars @malar-region @honeyyhemmings @dvakat

#topper thornton #outer banks #topper thornton x reader #topper thornton x fem!reader #topper thornton obx #topper thornton smut #topper thornton imagine

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so-writing · 3 years

Text

Sugar, Honey, Ice and Tea - Matthew Tkachuk (16)

Notes: minimal editing you know. also, did you guys think they were going to have a good date?!

all parts

What could go wrong?

It was an excellent question with an even better answer:

Everything. Everything could go wrong and it absolutely fucking did.

You had been sitting, in a dress a little too tight and high as the sky heels that were insanely uncomfortable, for about twenty minutes when Matthew rolled into the restaurant. He was dressed in a tee shirt and joggers, clothing entirely too casual for the venue, and you could tell he’d been drinking.

“Sorry I’m late, had some stuff to do.”

You ignored the slight slur in his voice as you tried your best to smile at him, “you’re here now,” it was clipped but he didn’t notice.

“Yeah, yeah, definitely,” he pulled his chair out and plopped into it, completely ignoring you as he dove into the bread sitting in the middle of the table.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Matthew.”

He had downed two pieces of bread by the time you spoke up and after you did, his eyes stayed on the food in his hands.

“You ask me out on a date, show up drunk and underdressed, and pay more attention to the appetizer than to me, this is such fucking bullshit.”

You were seeing red, and it wasn’t just the color of the carpet beneath your heels. He laughed to himself and continued to smash on the bread as you fished your phone out of your purse and ordered an Uber.

This was a mistake and you should have known better.

You were pretty sure Matthew didn’t even realize you excused yourself from the table and left the restaurant but you made sure to stop your server on the way out and order three bottles of the most expensive wine in house before you left, ensuring he was left with an extravagant bill. It was petty, but you couldn’t care less.

The cookies and the nighttime city views were nice but they were just another one of those fleeting moments where Matthew acted like a human with real emotions. Showing up for the date drunk and dressed in casual clothes had you seething and you spent the entirety of your ride back to your apartment with you fists clenched so tight your fingernails left little crescent shaped indents in your palms.

“He’s a fucking asshole, Onyx, he’s such a fucking asshole and that was his last chance. It’s like, he’ll do one nice thing only to follow it up with something so shitty it’s like he didn’t even do the nice thing in the first place.”

Unamused, Onyx continued to lick his paws and ignore your rant. You huffed at this, “You’re a shit listener, bud.”

Your cat might have been a shit listener but you knew someone that wasn’t.

I know it’s late, you started a message to Brady, but your brother is such a fucking dick and I had to remind you of it.

Your phone was ringing less than five minutes later.

“I know you had a date tonight, what the fuck happened?”

“Hello to you too, Brady.”

“Hi. What happened?”

As you recounted the evening’s events to the younger Tkachuk brother, the irritation you felt earlier in the night began to make its way back into your head and based on Brady’s responses, you weren’t the only one in a bad mood because of the way things went down.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me? He’s really self-sabotaging the fuck out of this and I almost want you to tell him to kick fucking rocks permanently.”

“I’m ready to do that, honestly. It was so fucking embarrassing. The wait staff were all giving me those sympathetic looks and whispering to each other while I sat at a table by my fucking self until he got there and made me look even more stupid. I got dressed up, I made a fucking effort and he made a mockery of the entire ‘date.’”

“I know, I don’t blame you for being pissed. He’s not usually this bad at dealing with women, he doesn’t have a shit ton of game but he’s handled this whole situation with you absolutely fucking wrong.”

The two of you talked for a little longer before saying your goodbyes and ending the call. You weren’t sure what was going on between yourself and Matthew anymore but it was obvious that it wasn’t working out and after tonight, you were tired of it.

It was time to put whatever this was to bed for good.

Grabbing your phone from the coffee table, you leaned back against the couch and sent Matthew a text message: Hey Matthew, so tonight didn’t go as planned and it’s fine. I think it’s best for us to just have a professional relationship anyway. If you need to contact me, you can email me whenever. See you at work.

It wasn’t the most eloquent message you’d ever typed but hopefully it would get the point across. You read it one final time before pressing send, and as soon as ‘delivered’ appeared under the bubble, you blocked his number.

He woke up to the sound of a blaring alarm and a splitting headache. He also realized, after a few moments of finding his bearings, he wasn’t in his own bed.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

It wasn’t a voice he wanted to hear, “morning Eden.”

“I’m curious, Matty,” she leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “why were you at a such fancy place in such shitty clothes?”

“What are you talking about?”

“When you called me, you were at that fancy French place downtown by yourself. When I got there, you were deep into a bottle of expensive wine at a table that was clearly set for two. What’s going on?”

Her voice was sickly sweet but despite his pounding headache, Matthew knew there was something accusatory hidden behind it.

“I was celebrating.”

“Celebrating what?”

She was digging a bit too deep for someone that was just a casual hookup and it was starting to piss him off.

“The end of our arrangement.”

He ignored the pain in his temples and pulled himself out of bed, grabbing his phone from the bedside table. Making his way through her apartment to put on his shoes and get the fuck out of there, he ignored her whining behind him.

“Bye Eden,” he said before slamming the door on her and heading out into the cold Calgary air.

It wasn’t until he went to order an Uber that he realized he had a bunch of unread text messages, most of them from Brady, but only one from her.

Opening the text from her first, his heart sank when he read it. What the fuck had he done?

As his Uber headed toward his apartment, Matthew read over the texts from Brady and, thought he couldn’t really remember the night before, it was pretty fucking obvious that he had ruined everything.

He had ruined everything and there wasn’t really even anything to ruin yet.

Matthew took the elevator to her floor and slowly made his way down the hall toward her door, they were off today, she was most likely home. He stopped in front of her door but he couldn’t bring himself to knock.

He was the one that left her sitting alone in a restaurant looking like a million fucking dollars while he showed up late, drunk and underdressed. Peanut butter cookies and his best version of puppy eyes weren’t going to fix this. She wanted a strictly professional relationship and Matthew had to respect that, especially after all the shit he’d put her through.

The sound of the elevator hitting his floor pulled him out of his thoughts and he noticed a bag sitting in front of his door. As he approached, Matthew noticed the logo on the bag and a piece of paper taped to it.

“You left without these, figured you’d want them because you paid. Got your address from the reservation application. I hope you can figure things out, that girl you were supposed to meet was an absolute catch. Dave, wait staff.”

As if he needed reminding. Two bottles of the expensive wine she had spite ordered sat in the bag. Matthew unlocked his apartment and took them inside, pulling them out of the bag and throwing the note away, only to tape a new one on one of the bottles.

You hadn’t planned to check your email at all but work was work and you loved your job. It was the usual shit and you promised yourself this was the last time you would refresh until you closed your laptop.

A message from Matthew Tkachuk popped up, sent seven minutes ago. No message content but the subject read: I’m sorry, check your door.

You were off your couch faster than you cared to admit.

“What the fuck,” you said to yourself, grabbing the bottles of wine and bringing them inside.

They were easily recognizable. It was the wine you ordered on your date with Matthew and you were shocked to see them sitting outside your door. What was most surprising though, was the note attached to one of the bottles.

‘Please take these as a gift, from a Flames player, to a very appreciated, supported and loved Flames staffer.’

If all she wanted was a professional relationship, Matthew would be the best damn coworker she’d ever had.

He placed the bottles gently on the floor and decided against knocking, choosing instead to go back up to his place and send her a ‘professional' email.

#Matthew Tkachuk #Matthew Tkachuk imagine #matt tkachuk #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

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lilacyennefer · 3 years

Text

The Cinnamon Series — Peace

Chapter 3

A/N: I thought I wouldn't make you guys wait for long after the previous chapter's cliffhanger, so here it is! Enjoy ^.^ Feedback is much appreciated <3

WARNING: insecurities, that's all I think

The next morning Angel didn’t show up to help you with the shop, but honestly you weren't expecting him after how he stormed away from you last night.

It hurt, because you truly liked Angel, maybe even loved him, but you were so terrified of him breaking your heart that you had a hard time letting him close to you.

A few hours passed when you heard the familiar roaring of a motorcycle, Angel’s motorcycle.

“I wasn't expecting to see you.” You say as he steps into the shop.

“I know.” Angel nods. He looks around, anywhere but at you as he slips his hands in the back pocket of his jeans. “I came to say goodbye.”

“What??” You ask loudly, panic suddenly rushing over you. “Angel, if this is about last night I can tell…”

“No, it’s club business.” He finally looks at you. “We are going on a run, I don’t know how long it will take.”

“Okay.” You whisper.

Angel nods again “Take care, querida.”

You watch him walk out of the shop, surprising even yourself, you yelled his name, stopping him in his tracks. You run after him, stopping in front of him.

“Can we talk when you get back? Please?” You ask hopefully, wanting to clear things with him. You’re honestly grateful that he’ll be away for a few days so you have the time to think.

“Do we have anything to talk about?” He asks bitterly.

“Yes. We have a lot to talk about.”

“Alright.”

“Please, be careful.” You tell him softly, placing your hand gently on his cheek. “You’re more important to me than you think.” You whisper.

Angel’s hard eyes softened from your words, you can see his softness come back.

He leans down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, the feeling of his lips on your skin makes your pulse rise rapidly. He lingered for a moment, then pulled away.

You watched him hop on his bike, then drive away.

“So, what’s exactly the problem?” Zoë, your sister asks as she sits down in front of you on your bed.

You’re having a sleepover while Angel is away, asking Zoë for some help. You needed to talk to someone, and she always gave good advices.

“You know exactly what’s the problem.” You sigh loudly.

“Okay, you want me to be honest with you?” You nod, signaling her to continue. “You always tell us that if we have a problem, like us in our friendship, then we have to talk, and not bottle emotions up. So what’s stopping you from doing this now? With Angel?”

You always believed in talking about your problems with each other, rather than keeping things until you gathered too much and you exploded, and started yelling.

“I haven't known him for that long…”

“But how do you feel about him?”

You let out a loud sigh again “Good. He’s a good person. With a lot of insecurities that I could see already.”

“Does he seem like the person who would bail on you if you’d tell him?”

You stop for a long time to think about Zoë’s question.

“Why do you have to ask such difficult questions???”

“Because you asked me to help.”

You stay silent again, before asking the thing you fear the most.

“Do you think it’s better to lose him for the truth than keep him with lies?”

“That’s a question that you have to answer.”

Four days passed since Angel left, and four days passed since your sister tried to help you with this situation. You don’t know how much time you’ve left to think, how long it will take for Angel to come back to town.

You were exhausted today, it’s been a long day renovating your soon-to-be bakery, so when you get home all you want to do is take a long, relaxing bath. You were sitting in the bathtub, the warm, vanilla scented water relaxed your muscles, and the sweet scent caressed your soul. Your head was laid back on the edge of the bathtub when your phone started ringing, making you snap out from your thoughts. You wipe your hand in the towel resting on the small chair next to the bathtub, the one you put there so you have something to put your phone on. You’re surprised to see Angel’s name on the screen, before you answer the phone you take a deep breath to calm your rapidly beating heart.

“Hey.” you say.

“Hi.” Angel sighs “I’m not supposed to call you, we’re not allowed to be on the phone when we’re on a run…” he trails off “...but I missed you.”

Even in the heat of the bathroom, you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks from his words.

“I missed you too.” you whisper sweetly. “I’m glad to hear from you. Knowing that you’re alive.”

“You keep me alive.” Angel says, there’s no hint of flirting in his voice, only honesty “Knowing that you’re waiting for me.”

“How long until you’re back?”

“Three more days.”

“Okay, I think I can do three more days.” Angel could clearly hear your smile from the other end of the phone, but before he could reply you heard his name being called.

“I gotta go, querida.” Angel sighs.

“Take care, Ángel.”

“Buenos noches, querida.”

Three days passed quickly, since you were busy with the shop and you exhausted yourself every day.

Despite your conversation on the phone, you were nervous to see Angel again, and nervous to have the conversation with him. You were extremely fond of him, even if you only knew him for a few weeks.

You’ve done a lot in the bakery in the past week, the walls were painted and dried, there was a new floor now, so you slowly started doing the decorations. Since the neon lights with your logo have arrived, you decided to do that first. The pink neon light with the word ‘El Paraíso’ was situated in the middle of the thin ring made of metal that you plan to decorate with fake flowers.

“El Paraíso.” A loud voice snaps you out from your work “Fits you perfectly, mi dulce.” The words make you look up at Angel, who was smiling down at you, an adoring expression on his face as he looks at you work.

“Ángel!” You jump up from the floor where you’ve been sitting, rushing to the biker so you could jump into his arms, hugging him tightly as you wrap your legs around his waist, and arms around his neck.

Angel welcomes you with his arms open, burying his face in your neck to inhale your scent when you land in his arms. You’re not sure how long you enjoy each other’s warmth before you pull away from him, making Angel slowly let you back down on the floor.

Awkward silence suddenly filled the air around you, neither of you are sure what to tell after how you parted a week ago.

“Are you hungry?” You ask, trying to break the silence. Food was always a good peace offering.

“Angel shakes his head “Not right now.”

You swallow hard “I guess you want to talk then.” You say as you wrap your arms around yourself, a gesture of protection that you always do when you’re nervous.

“I need to know.” Angel replies, nervousness is clear in his voice and demeanour as he shifts his weight from one leg to his other. “I need to know why.”

You looked down on the floor, taking a few deep breaths as you try to make yourself explain everything to Angel.

“I’m afraid.” You admit “I’m afraid that you’ll leave me when I tell you the truth.” You still avoid eye contact with him “But I guess losing you for the truth is better than keeping you with a lie.”

“I promise I won’t run away.” Angel assures you, his voice is soft.

You close your eyes and mutter “I have never been with a man before.” You wrinkle your nose as you wait for Angel’s reaction.

“THAT’S IT?” He asks loudly, making you open your eyes and look up at him.

“Well…yeah…”

Angel wipes his face with his hand “Oh thank god.”

“What?” You ask him confused, dropping your arms.

“I thought it’s some more serious shit!”

“Well, it is!”

“Do you really think that I’d run away just because you’re a virgin? What kind of asshole do you think I am?”

“I’m not a virgin! I just said I haven’t been with a man before. Besides, men have run away before when I told them this!” You state as you slowly start to relax.

“They’re piece of shits who never deserved you.” Angel states, stepping closer to you “But I’m not like them! I understand why you were afraid, but you’re safe with me, I promise you that.”

Angel’s words moved you, bringing tears into your eyes that you quickly blink away. It had happened before that you told men that you’re not experienced, and they laughed at you, or ran away from you. This is the very reason why you were terrified of telling Angel the truth.

“Thank you.” you sniff, leaning your head on Angel’s chest, the biker automatically wrapping his arms around you.

“So, you have experience with women then?” Angel teases, you can hear the smirk in his voice.

You shake your head, slightly smiling “Don’t start, Reyes.”

Angel playfully shrugs, he’s clearly toying with the idea of you with another woman “Hey, if you want to share some details…”

“Stop!” You laugh, feeling relieved that Angel is still here, and he’s back to his usual self.

“Are we good, querida?” Angel asks suddenly, his voice is more serious than it was before.

“We are good, Angel.” You look up at him.

“So, will you finally come on a date with me?” The Mayan asks hopefully, his eyes are tinkling now from the happiness.

But your answer was interrupted by two men who you haven’t seen before, but Angel certainly did, based on his expression. The sudden interruption makes you pull away from Angel, to both of your displeasures.

“We wanted to see for who you’re ignoring us.” One of them says. Both men were heavily tattooed, and wore the same vest as Angel, so you figured they were from the MC.

“I’m not ignoring you!” Angel says annoyed, clearly upset that you were interrupted.

“Then should we say we are to see who you couldn’t shut up about?” The bigger man teases Angel, looking at you. The sudden attention makes you blush, then quickly look at the ground as you, not noticeably, took a step away from Angel.

“Shut the fuck up!” Angel hisses at the two Mayan, making them laugh.

“Aren’t you gonna introduce us?” The skinnier, tattooed man asks, making Angel turn towards you again.

“Y/N, these annoying assholes are Coco, and Gilly, my brothers.” Angel introduces the men to you.

“Assholes, this is Y/N, I’ve been helping her in the past few weeks.”

You shook both men’s hands, for your biggest surprise, they welcomed you warmly into their lives.

“Just wanted to tease you, we leave you two lovebirds alone.” Coco says as he steps out from the shop, leaving you alone with Angel.

“I’m sorry about that.” Angel apologies.

“It’s okay.” You laugh. “They can be a bit too much, I guess.”

“You have no idea!” Angel agrees.

Both of you stay silent for a few seconds before you speak again.

“It’s a yes, by the way.”

Angel inhales sharply, then letting out the air loudly through his nose, feeling relieved from your response.

“You won’t regret it, I promise.” Angel shakes his head, like he can’t believe that you finally agreed to go on a date with him. He steps closer to you, wrapping his left arm around your hips, pulling you closer to himself as he places a kiss on your forehead.

“Please don’t break my heart.” You whisper loud enough so Angel will hear it.

“I promise I’ll keep your heart safe, mi dulce. I won’t fuck this up.”

Taglist: @gemini0410 @rosieposie0624 @blessedboo @yourwonkywriter @chibsytelford @mayans-sauce @mrsmarvelous1995 @phoenixhalliwell @rocketqueen @witching-hour @starrynite7114 @bellisperennis0 @noladyme (comment or send an ask if you want to be added)

#clayton cardenas #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes

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solalunar-eclipse · 3 years

Text

Sonic Boom - S3E1

Episode title: Friendship 101

Word count: about 3000 words

Author’s Note: I’m trying a rather new format for this fic, since it’s based on a TV show with various songs and camera angles. If you have any comments about whether it works well or not, please let me know!

(Also, the theme song choice is all thanks to khinesthetic, who used it here and inspired me to put it in this fic.)

[cue Mr. Blue Sky by ELO (0:00-3:45)]

[The show opens on a zoomed-out view of Hedgehog Village from above. Stone walls separate the village from the wilderness outside. There are large spaces at several points throughout the structure for entry and exit. A large patch of grass with benches scattered about sits at one end of the village, and a marketplace made up of wood-and-cloth stalls runs along one of the walls. Houses are grouped in seemingly random clusters throughout the town, and the (in)famous Meh Burger stand sits all on its own, with picnic tables spread across its wooden flooring. As the music progresses, the camera begins to zoom in on the village- then on one of the streets in particular- and rotates down to eye level to face…]

Sonic the Hedgehog walked through the streets of Hedgehog Village with a bounce in his step, occasionally dancing to the music playing through his earbuds. As he wandered throughout the town, he passed the usual people running their stores, arguing over botched orders at Meh Burger, and, at one point, Aqua the Rabbit absolutely freaking out over the loss of a single follower on Angstagram (the latest social media network for moody teens).

He did a 360-degree spin before winking and pointing finger guns at Amy Rose when he spotted her haggling with the local grocery store owner. She paused briefly to wave at him with a smile. “Hi, Sonic!” she called, completely ignoring the irritated fennec in the process.

Then, the music froze and changed to something extremely ominous as she turned around to face the shopkeeper once more. A dangerous gleam appeared in her eyes as she pulled out her signature hammer. “Now then, about those prices you’ve been setting lately…”

The song cut back in as the view switched back to Sonic, who was now moving away from the scene at a slightly faster pace.

Really, though, he was more than happy to see his other friends not long after. Knuckles and Sticks were currently busy rummaging through the town’s garbage together, excitedly chatting about the latest piece of interesting junk they’d found, while Tails was fixing someone’s broken rain gutter (and attempting to ‘improve’ it in the process, which meant that it could now measure the amount and intensity of rainfall in a storm- a very useful, though unfortunately unwanted improvement).

Surprisingly enough, as he continued on his way through Hedgehog Village, he managed to get people from a few different places to wave back at him when he said hello. Although perhaps it wasn’t quite so surprising when one considered that this was one of the most cliched opening sequences that could possibly happen in any movie or TV show. Ever.

And of course, the only logical outcome of this scene led to everyone beginning to stop their usual activities and gather in one of the few open spaces in the town, clearly prepared to break into a fantastic musical dance number straight out of Broadway. Incredibly, this was one of the few moments in which everyone in the village seemed to be able to get along…

...until Eggman’s latest giant robot slammed feet-first into the ground, sending everyone off-kilter and scrambling for cover. Shrieks of panic rose in place of the music as the villagers fled the scene to hide in their houses. The dramatic entrance didn’t just ruin the mood, it absolutely crushed it with the sheer force of its impact.

And that was, obviously, when the show really began.

[cue In Your Face by Shockwave Sound (0:00-1:04)]

[Each of the five members of Team Sonic appears on a black screen with their name spelled out in their signature colors (blue, yellow, red, pink, and green) and does a couple of cool fighting moves, followed by snippets of scenes featuring them from previous episodes of the show for about eight seconds each. All five of them then appear together in their usual fighting stances, emphasizing their status as a team.

The Eggman logo then appears in an ominous, glowing red, backlighting the doctor himself and all his creations- before the lights flick on to reveal him alone in his evil lair with a green screen behind him, at which point he shrieks and covers the camera with a hand. Then, neon blue electronic lines begin to appear across the screen and the camera spirals to follow them, selecting one particular line to trace. Not long after, said line ends at a circle which, with a flash, turns into the words ‘Sonic Boom’. Beneath the title, it says ‘Ancient Secrets’ in neon blue.]

[Then the music ends, at which point the episode title- “Friendship 101”- appears for a few seconds in the same color before the show itself returns.]

Sonic scrambled to his feet and zipped over to Tails, pulling him up from where he’d fallen after the robot’s overdramatic arrival. Amy managed to do the same with both Knuckles and Sticks simultaneously, which let Sonic stare for a moment, startled, and then promptly resolve to remember not to get on her bad side anytime soon.

Soon enough, the team had scrambled into their usual positions, ready to fight. Amy and Sticks kicked the battle off by handling the various smaller robots that threatened to get too close to their team, never faltering (and in fact seeming a bit gleeful in the badger’s case) despite the sheer number of enemies. Knuckles, meanwhile, launched Sonic bodily into the air for Tails to catch, before picking up a boulder about the size of a house and lobbing it directly at the robot’s chest.

“Hey! Easy with the boulders- QuakeBot took a lot of effort to make, you know!” Eggman shrieked from above, hovering in the relative safety of his Eggmobile.

(Relative, in this case, was of course in comparison to mixing absurdly volatile chemicals in a lab, bothering Shadow at any and/or all hours of the day, or being on Tails’s bad side when the fox had a glue gun. The doctor still remembered that situation all too well, and currently ranked it as far more terrifying than merely being punted into the stratosphere by kids under half his height and about a third his age.)

Sonic paused to stare at Eggman from where he was currently dangling in the air. A smirk began to spread slowly across his face. “…what did you just call it?”

“You heard me the first time!” the doctor roared, now incredibly embarrassed. “I named it that since it makes the ground shake when it moves, like an earthquake??”

General laughter came from the heroes assembled on the ground and in the sky.

“Argh! Nobody appreciates my genius around here! Now, QuakeBot, stop standing around and start attacking!”

“I suggested TerraBot, since it still has to do with earth and is a play on the word ‘terror’, but nobody ever listens to my ideas, now do they?” Orbot muttered irritably to himself, tucked inside the Eggmobile.

“I listen to all your ideas!” Cubot offered encouragingly.

Orbot’s mouth shifted into a small smile. “Thanks, Cubot.”

Meanwhile, Sonic had been pulled into a spin by Tails, who whirled the hedgehog around before letting him shoot downwards toward the robot in a spin dash- only for him to get caught and sent flying into the nearest house.

He shook off the surprise quickly (and apparently sustained absolutely zero damage despite having literally crashed through a house, because superpowered teenagers), darting back over to the group. “Well, uh, guess it’s time for Plan B then!”

Crickets chirped in the ensuing silence. Even the robot had stopped moving to hear what he had to say.

“And the plan is…?” Amy prompted.

Sonic folded his arms with a huff. “I dunno, I thought you guys would have one!?”

The pink hedgehog rolled her eyes at that.

Tails piped up. “I have an idea! Sonic, you’re going to need to be curled up for this, okay?”

The hero promptly did just that, before emitting a muffled “mmhmm?” from inside his layers of quills.

“Alright then, Amy, I need you to hit Sonic with your hammer right at the side of this house.”

Sonic’s blood ran cold. “Whoa whoa whoa, wait a second can we maybe rethink thiaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAHHHHH!”

He ricocheted all over the palace like a pinball, slamming into several key points of the robot thanks to Tails’s rapid calculations. However, the robot was sadly unaffected by his screaming at a pitch that came dangerously close to shattering glass.

The robot was easily disabled and the attack overall quickly repelled after that. Thankfully, it took Sonic only a moment to recover from his impromptu stint as an out-of-control projectile and get back to fighting with the others…complete with a “Let’s do that AGAIN!” moment, which was met with a resounding no from both Amy and Tails.

Their ears were both still rather sore from last time, after all.

After Eggman was punted all the way back to his island by a well-placed kick from Sticks, though, the crew was about to head over to Meh Burger for a post-battle meal when they discovered that they had an entirely different problem to take care of. The villagers, who were beginning to come out of hiding after the attack, were furious upon seeing the damage dealt to their homes and stores.

“How could you let this happen?” one shouted.

Before long, the villagers found themselves a more specific target when the owner of the house that Sonic had smashed into pointed her finger directly in his face. “This mess is awful!” she cried. “And it’s all his fault!”

Within seconds, a mob of people had descended upon the overtaxed teen.

“I’ve never known a hero so irresponsible.” one fumed.

“How dare you!” the fennec from earlier roared.

The elderly wolf of the village shook her cane at him. “Shame on you!”

Sonic could feel himself beginning to tense up as the villagers turned their ire on him. Whether or not he’d admit it to anyone, he needed two main things in order to be his usual heroic, cheerful self: open space and positive reinforcement. Right now, he was getting exactly the opposite of both of those.

And he was not feeling good about it.

He looked briefly over to his friends for help, but Sticks had already vanished, Knuckles and Tails looked more nervous than anything, and Amy was already walking towards him with that look in her eye…

“Sonic, next time you do need to work on making sure the robot doesn’t catch you, you know-”

A streak of blue shot out of the village, leaving nothing but a scorched trail of grass and the snap of a sonic boom behind.

Sonic didn’t slow down until he reached the mountains- which technically wasn’t very far from the town at all, so he ran quite a bit more after that until he ended up in the middle of the jungle. Then, he sat down with his back to a tree and his arms around his knees, feeling very unheroic and overall pretty lame.

The blue hedgehog frowned at the dirt. Honestly, some days it really did feel like nobody seemed to like him. The only person who ever even suggested he was important on a regular basis was Tails, and Sonic didn’t blame him at all for not jumping into the middle of that crowd. Tails was only thirteen to his seventeen and a half years old- not exactly an age when he should be expected to go toe-to-toe with a crowd of angry adults.

Still, though. When being a hero got him all risk (no matter how low) and no reward...it was difficult for him to keep hold of that core feeling of “I can make the world a better place to live in!”, which, despite all his other claims, was truly at the center of what had motivated him to start fighting against Eggman so long ago…

[The scene morphs in a manner which shows the lighting shifting so that the sun is overhead. A sound effect of birds chirping plays over the scene change. This implies that it’s been several hours since he first fled the village.]

Sonic was still lost in thought when the snap of a twig in the bushes made him jump to his feet in surprise. The surrounding vegetation rustled ominously for a moment...only to reveal the four members of his team in front of him. He watched them all cautiously, his expression tense. More than anything, he looked ready to run at a moment’s notice- something which only served to make his friends(?) seem a little more distressed. “Uh…hey, guys?” he began tentatively.

“Sonic, I…” Amy began forcefully, before stopping herself. At first, it looked like she was about to scold him again, but then suddenly her face fell. “Listen, Sonic, we’ve all been talking a lot about what happened back at the village…and there’s something I want to say.” She gave a slightly tired sigh.

“I know we usually like to make jokes and witty commentary, but...sometimes, the world’s just a difficult place to be in.” she said. “...so we really do need to talk about serious stuff occasionally, even though I know it’s tough for you to even mention how you’re feeling. Unless, you know, it’s ‘great!’ or ‘cool!’ or something like that.”

Sonic cringed at the mere idea, looking more and more like he thought running away was the preferable option here.

“So what I wanted to say was that in a world where there are too many people trying to beat you down...what I was trying to do was tell you how to be more tolerant, because I thought that would help. I figured you can’t change how other people are going to be, just yourself, so I hoped that might make things better.

“But...I’m not actually a licensed therapist- yet, anyway. So I might have been wrong on how I went about that. Maybe...instead of telling you off for not being able to stop all those people...in the future I’ll pull out my hammer and tell them to knock it off already. Does that sound better to you?” she asked.

The blue hedgehog froze. “Ames…I...” he croaked, trying his best not to think about why exactly it felt like his throat was so tight all of a sudden.

Sticks folded her arms. “I like that plan! Those people are way too crazy sometimes…and you guys know I have a verrrrry high tolerance for crazy.”

“We can make the villagers quit bugging you together, just like how we fight Eggman!” Knuckles added encouragingly. “It’s always better that way, isn’t it?”

There was still one person who hadn’t spoken yet, though.

Suddenly, Tails crashed full-force into Sonic, squeezing him in a hug that for once he didn’t pretend to hate. “You know I’ve always, always, always got your back, right, Sonic? No matter what?” he asked, looking up at his older brother. “Even if I don’t always know how to do it right.”

The blue hedgehog simply nodded, not trusting his voice to help him maintain his ‘cool guy’ status.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel up to talking about it now, though.” the fox added understandingly, stepping back but still leaving a hand on his arm.

“But!” Knuckles added. “We won’t tell anyone if you ever decide you do need to get some stress off your chest every once in a while!” He smacked his own chest with a fist for emphasis.

“Nobody needs to know.” Sticks growled, the camera suddenly showing a dramatic angle of her face as the lighting dropped noticeably.

“Uh…that’s kinda dark.” Sonic said, holding up a finger with a bit of a confused frown, which let the lighting and camera angle zip back to normal.

“Anyway!” The pink hedgehog clapped her hands together, turning to face the group as a whole. “What do you guys think about heading over to my house and watching some movies? I’ll even…” She sighed, her whole body slumping. “…make some messy, simple, unprofessional chili dogs. In my state-of-the art kitchen. I know Sonic probably could use a pick-me-up right now, after all.”

“Thanks, Ames! You’re the best!” the hedgehog in question said cheerfully, the promise of good food and great companionship boosting his mood significantly.

Then, his posture shifted once again into something a little more vulnerable. “And thanks to all you guys. For, y’know, everything.”

“Of course!” Amy chirped.

Tails smiled at him. “No problem, Sonic.”

Sticks folded her arms. “That’s what a team’s for, ain’t it?”

“Of course it is!” Knuckles said, in that rather confusing manner where nobody was actually sure if he understood anything about what had just happened.

The echidna actually walked over to Sonic after that particular declaration, though, placing a hand on his shoulder as his face became uncharacteristically serious for a second. “Really, Sonic, we can all help you out, alright? Nobody gets to yell at our leader without getting yelled at back!” he declared, punching a fist into his other hand.

The hedgehog blinked twice before looking up at his friend. “You…just called me the leader?”

“Well, duh! That’s why everyone calls it Team Sonic, right?” Knuckles asked with a smile, letting an awkward (but genuine) grin spread across Sonic’s face.

Within seconds, the hero found himself squeezed in a big hug from all sides by his friends- and then actually lifted off the floor through a joint effort from Knuckles and Amy.

“Guys- come on! I can’t even move here!” he cried out, his legs flailing so quickly they made a vibrating noise in the air. “Guyyyyssss….” he whined, though nobody seemed to care much about his halfhearted complaints (judging by the happy expressions on their faces).

Then, the episode began to end, as evidenced by an iris out transition. The slowly shrinking circle paused for a moment on Sonic’s current expression, highlighting it against the otherwise black screen. He now sported a sheepish, if slightly pleased smile, complete with a faint pink blush on his face from all the positive attention.

Clearly Sonic liked being, well, liked far more than he let on.

Then, the circle snapped closed with a pop, and the credits began to roll.

[Voice Actors:

Roger Craig Smith

Colleen Villard

Travis Willingham

Cindy Robinson

Nika Futterman

Mike Pollock

Kirk Thornton

Wally Wingert

Bill Freiberger

Original creation by:

Evan Baily

Donna Friedman Meir

Sandrine Nguyen

Bill Freiberger

Takashi Iizuka

Writer/editor:

Solalunar “Sol” Eclipse

Thank you for watching reading.]

#sonic boom #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #knuckles the echidna #amy rose #sticks the badger #i really really hope this new format was a good idea #i just had some very clear ideas about this fic that couldn't be expressed in the usual medium of character actions and dialogue #because sonic boom is very different from the sonic games and often uses camera and music-based references #(i may not roll credits every time though- just thought i'd give it a shot haha)#anyway!#i also wanted to ask: is there a particular way people would like me to use for replying to the wonderful comments i get in the tags?#because i want to let the people who take the time to leave comments know how much i appreciate it #but i'm not sure how to go about that #any suggestions?#and finally:#next time...shadow's going to show up! i can't wait to write him #as always #thanks so much for reading!#:D #sol's fanfiction

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sfb123 · 3 years

Text

The Final Goodbye - Chapter 3

Book: The Royal Romance, Book 2

Pairing: Liam x Riley

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Description: In a slight canon divergence from book 2, Riley reaches her breaking point with the engagement tour and decides to restart her life when the court gets to NYC. Can the rest of the group clear her name, and convince her to come back before it’s too late?

Catch Up Here

Rating: PG (I think there are a few swear words in there, very angsty, but otherwise pretty mild)

Word Count: 1,240

A/N: Again, I’m so grateful to all of you for reading this little series I threw together out of nowhere. After this, we’ve got one chapter left. I teased a side one shot of Liam confronting Madeleine, and that’s coming, I promise. I’m hoping to release it this week. Huge thank you to my fandom soulmate @jessiembruno for always taking the time to help me work through this stuff. You are a godsend, and I am forever grateful.

Tags: Listed below. If you’d like to be added or removed, just let me know!

“Are you sure you don’t want to come and just hang out? I hate leaving you alone like this.”

“Daniel, I love you. Thank you. But I’m good. I’ve been around people for months, I just need to be alone and get my head right.” She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug. “Besides, the way I bailed on that place with literally zero notice, I’m surprised my face isn’t up on the door with one of those Ghostbusters logo thingies through it.”

Daniel and Riley said their goodbyes. Once he turned the corner and was out of sight, Riley closed and locked the door and made herself comfortable on the couch. She spent the afternoon watching talk shows, and all of those small claims court shows that she had missed so much while she was away. Her problems didn’t seem quite so bad when she watched a woman be told all 7 men she brought with her that day were ‘not the father’.

When the buzzer rang, Riley didn’t think twice and instantly let them in, assuming it was the food she had been waiting for. She got to the door just as the visitor began knocking. Riley’s eyes widened as they met Bertrand’s. Of all of the people she expected to come looking for her, he was definitely at the bottom of the list. “Bertrand… What are you? How did you?”

“Lady Riley, I believe I deserve a bit more credit. You are the one who ran away to your last known address. Even Maxwell would have been able to figure that out.”

Still flustered, Riley stepped aside and signaled for Bertrand to enter. “You can just call me Riley. I’m done with court, I’m not a lady anymore.” She sat on the couch, and Bertrand sat next to her. “Why did you come here, Bertrand?”

He ignored her question, he found it absurd that she felt the need to ask why he was there. It wasn’t as if he were just in the neighborhood and decided to drop in. “What do you mean you are done with court? We still have a few days left on the tour and then when we get back…”

“Bertrand, you’re a smart man. How are you not getting this? I’m out, I’m done. I never belonged there, and I never will.” Riley took a couple of deep breaths to try to quell her emotions before continuing. “We’re never going to find Tariq, and I can’t just go back to a country where I’m constantly being looked down on, just so I can watch the man I love marry another woman.” She looked down at her hands, which she was wringing in her lap.

“Riley, we found him,” Riley froze, her eyes locked on Bertrand. “Maxwell, Drake, and Hana are in California right now to get him, and have him make a statement. This will likely all be over by the end of the day.”

For a brief moment, Riley got her hopes up, perhaps it wasn’t over. She and Liam could have a real chance at happiness. She shook off the optimism, and quickly jumped back into reality. “That’s great, I really appreciate that they would go through all of that trouble for me, but how do we know they can convince him to speak out? He ran away after everything happened, he was obviously trying to get away from this.” She got up and began pacing the room. “And even if he does make a statement, that’s it? The whole country will just say ‘oh hey, our bad, you aren’t a slut who two-timed our king, all is forgiven’?”

Bertrand approached Riley, placing his hands on her shoulders to keep her still. “He will give a statement. Those three are nothing if not persuasive. And once that happens, Liam will make his own statement to the people. They will see how happy he is to clear the name of the woman he loves. Everyone sees his face when he talks about you, Riley. The love, the adoration. The people will see that too, and that will matter to them.”

Tears started to pool in Riley’s eyes at the mention of Liam’s name. “Even if that happens, there will always be people that define me by my scandal. I can’t let Liam take that heat, he won’t be known for the amazing things he will do as king, he will be known for his infamous queen.”

“Riley…” Bertrand’s expression softened, he motioned for her to sit back down on the couch where he joined her. “As you are aware, Savannah was recently located, with...my son.” His voice cracked slightly, Riley noticed. “I have missed out on so much of his life, on all of this time that I could have been happy. If she had just told me what she was feeling, if she had voiced her concerns, things would have been different. We would have been a family.” He placed his hand over Riley’s before continuing. “You and Liam love each other deeply. That is clear to anyone who spends any amount of time with the two of you. Don’t lose that love because you are afraid to speak your mind. Savannah thought she knew what was best for me, and it has made both of us miserable. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy, and I certainly wouldn’t wish it on my sister.”

Riley let out a small sob as Bertrand finished. He had always been so formal with her. Hearing him call her his sister, on top of all of all of the other emotions coursing through her caused the dam to burst. She covered her face with her hands, and Bertrand wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

The silence in the room was broken by a ping on Bertrand’s phone. Riley pulled back to allow him to remove it from his jacket pocket. He looked at the screen, and a smirk formed on his face before he turned back to Riley. “They have him, they are all on the jet on their way back to New York. Once they arrive, he will be going right to the soundstage to make his statement. It should be released in time for the evening news.” Bertrand stood, placing his phone back in his pocket. “Riley, I know I have been putting a heavy weight on your shoulders since the day you arrived in Cordonia, but you have handled it all with a level of grace and composure that I never would have expected from someone with your background. You have not been the woman I expected when Maxwell told me he brought home a waitress to represent our house in the social season, but if you give up now, you will have done all of that work for nothing and proven my initial suspicions of you correct. You are better than that Riley, I know that now.” He walked to the door, turning back to her as his hand reached for the doorknob, “Take some time to think about things, the court will be in New York for a few more days. I hope to see you back with us when we make our return to Cordonia, but it is a decision only you can make.” With that, he walked out the door, leaving Riley alone with her thoughts.

Permatag:

@anjanettexcordonia @athena-penrose @chemist-ana @choiceskatie @cordonia-gothqueen @cordoniaqueensworld @emkay512 @gabesmommie1130 @gkittylove99 @hopelessromanticmonie @iaminlovewithtrr @jessiembruno @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @kingliam2019 @lucy-268 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @mile9213 @mom2000aggie @pixie88 @queenrileyrose @secretaryunpaid @sweatyrysconnoisseur @tessa-liam @theroyalheirshadowhunter @twinkleallnight @txemrn

The Final Goodbye:

@ao719 @burnsoslow @busywoman @itsjustwinter @ladyangel70 @mainstreetreader

Liam x Riley:

@jared2612

@choicesficwriterscreations

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worldwidemochiguy · 4 years

Text

Sweets (Soft Yandere! Jungkook)

You keep being visited by the most peculiar thief…

➵ in which jungkook steals your lip balm and perfume instead of talking to you, you leave a post-it note with your number on it for the strange thief who only seems to take the most inexplicable items and has a strange sense of responsibility for your wellbeing, and the cute boy in your photography class with the fluffy hair and the oversized sweater keeps getting more and more endearing…

➵ Warnings: Soft Yandere Jungkook, Breaking & Entering but without the Breaking, Reader is a bit of a ditz (lol sorry guys)

➵ Word Count: 4.2K

➵ Masterlist

“Hello, uh, I’d like to… report a crime?”

Your statement, which had always sounded suitably firm and assertive when you practised it in front of the bathroom mirror, ended with an unplanned upturn, making it sound more like a question than you would like.

“Please state your name and address, ma’am.”

You did so, listening anxiously to the tap of a keyboard as your information was filed away. The undoubtedly over-worked police officer on the other end of the line sounded like he was two seconds from falling asleep, and you questioned yourself for the millionth time over whether you really needed to report this or not.

“What is the nature of the crime you are reporting, ma’am?”

“Um… well…”

You twisted your hand into the fabric of your shirt self-consciously, trying to decide the best way to explain the strange little occurrences that had been surrounding your apartment over the last few months. You had not yet found a way to put it without sounding ridiculous, but you supposed there was a first time for everything.

“I, uh, I think someone’s breaking into my apartment and stealing things.”

“You have an intruder?”

“Uh huh,”

“…Are they currently in your residence?”

“No, I think… they come and take things when I’m not here and then they’re gone by the time I get back.”

“What items have been stolen?”

You bit your lip.

“I know it sounds silly, but…”

“No crime is too small to report, ma’am. We are committed to making the lives of everyday citizens safer.”

“Well… they’ve stolen my lip balm like… several times. I keep buying new ones and they keep being stolen after a week or so. And my perfume. And my hairbrush one time, and-”

“Ma’am,” The officer cut you off with the impatience you had been both anticipating and dreading ever since you decided to call the police, “Listen, we don’t have the capacity to deal with prank callers-”

“It’s not a prank call!” You blurted, a momentary burst of desperation overtaking you, “I- um, sorry for interrupting, officer, but this isn’t a prank call. Things have been going missing. I can’t afford to keep replacing my lip balm.”

A sigh crackled across the line, and you pictured the officer maybe taking off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose like those people in movies always seemed to do when they got frustrated. Personally, you had never found that it helped.

“Are you sure you aren’t just… misplacing them?”

You gasped, offended that even a stranger could think you so stupid. “No! I remember exactly where I leave things and then they just vanish! I swear!”

“Has anything of value ever been taken from your apartment?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed, excited to be able to prove the officer wrong, “My bunny plushy! Mr Snuggles is extremely valuable to me!”

“…Monetary value, I meant. Has anything expensive ever been taken from your apartment?”

There was an embarrassing silence. The officer sighed again, with a little more exasperation colouring his tone.

“If anything significant is stolen, call us back. For now, just… be a bit more careful with your possessions.”

He hung up. You pressed your forehead against the wall and wished your strange thief had taken your phone in one of his little visits. Maybe then you would’ve avoided making that agonising call.

The next morning as you were leaving to go to class, you noticed a pile of discarded post-it notes on your desk — the remnants of a redbull-fuelled late night study session. Your newly purchased lip balm lay next to it. Impulsively, you grabbed a pen and scrawled a message on one of the post-its, sticking it horizontally to the curved surface of the lip balm tube.

it reads:

pls don’t take this i just bought it and this brand is actually v expensive and i am only a struggling college student with loans and chapped lips (。•́︿•̀。)

It might have been a little too polite considering it’s intended recipient was someone who had stolen multiple items from your apartment, but you figured there was no point in being rude. They probably wouldn’t even read it anyway.

You strolled out of your apartment, planning to pick up a smoothie on the way to your lecture, and promptly forgot all about it.

When you returned home to find a pile of newly bought lip balms on your desk — all embossed with the logo of your favourite brand — you were slightly puzzled. But, once you remembered the note you had left- well, the confusion didn’t exactly vanish, but at least you were given some context.

The note had disappeared, along with the lip balm you had used a scant few times. But, you didn’t understand what the thief’s aim was. Why on earth would they steal small things like lip balm and perfume? And why would they buy you new copies of the product? Wasn’t that counterproductive?

you’re very bad at your job

Your next note read, stuck to your fridge as you left to grab coffee with your study group. It remained there for a few days, and you couldn’t ignore the way your heart sank a little each time you saw it hadn’t been taken.

After six days, when it finally vanished, you felt an odd sense of happiness bubble up within you. Yes, there was someone routinely breaking into your apartment, but at least now you had an open channel of communication with them. They had left a brand new bottle of your preferred perfume — which had been stolen at least twice before you stopped bothering to buy it because perfume is pricy — resting on your kitchen counter, beside a box of your favourite chocolates.

As you dug into the box later, snuggled in a blanket and having a Studio Ghibli film marathon, you didn’t even consider the fact that the sweets might be tampered with. If they wanted to kill me, they would’ve killed me already, you reasoned to yourself, sucking the icing sugar off your fingers. Nor did you question how they knew your favourite chocolate. If they broke into your apartment as much as you assumed they did, they probably knew you better than your own parents by now.

You were the very definition of a broke college student. As far as you were concerned, if this random stranger wanted to buy you things and sometimes clean up your apartment — you had definitely come back to a home tidier than you had left it more than once — then you certainly weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it was a little naïve of you, but… you had already called the police, and they hadn’t cared.

thank you for the perfume and chocolate <3

You wrote next morning, hesitating slightly before putting the heart. Before you could convince yourself not to, you scribbled another line underneath.

i wish you’d write back someday…

As you walked to class, you scolded yourself for the butterflies swooping in your stomach. They’re literally a criminal, you told yourself, Stop getting crushes on anyone who shows you the slightest bit of attention. You don’t even know their name.

Despite the small amount of common sense that you did have mocking you all day, you sat in classes and daydreamed about your mystery home intruder. Would they read the note? Would they be happy about your appreciation? Would they — you bit your lip — would they write back?

You felt like a dumb schoolgirl, excited by the prospect of a badly written love note shoved in her locker. And, like a school girl, you trudged back home with your arms weighed down by class work, a billion essays and quizzes that had to be completed overnight. Did your professors not realise you had a life outside of college? Not that you did, of course, but like… in principle.

You were so preoccupied with the coursework that you didn’t even notice the note stuck to your bedroom door. After an hour of studying, you rose wearily to start fixing yourself something to eat, and your eyes snagged on a flash of yellow.

You squeaked, almost falling over yourself in your rush to get to the door and read the note.

i’m glad you liked them. i’m sorry i took your things, that was mean of me. i tried to only take things you wouldn’t miss, but i guess that backfired… i just wanted to feel close to you. and these notes… are the closest i’ve ever been. i know that must sound weird, but… well. i’m a weird guy, i guess. i just liked hearing from you. that’s all.

~ koo <3

You didn’t stop freaking out for a full five minutes. After that, you poured over every detail of the letter, eager to extricate any fragment of knowledge possible. You ended up with a list which you scribbled down in your diary, above which you pasted the note.

The list went as follows:

They want to feel close to you

They have not talked to you before, since the notes are the closest they’ve ever been, but they must have seen you in person at least once

They are a he

(you adamantly did not get flustered about that)

and

4. He calls himself Koo

When you left your apartment the next morning, you placed your note on the exact same spot he had left his. An indirect touch.

hi koo !!!!!!!!

i was so excited to see you had written something!! you know, if you want to talk to me more often, there is an easier way…

Underneath you had scrawled your phone number, hastily and not allowing for regret before you flounced out of the apartment. The reason why you were in such a rush was because you were about to go to your favourite class: Photography 101.

You had taken it as an extra credit, something that interested you but not enough that you wanted to pursue it as a career. You had expected it to be fun, something artistic to break up the monotony of classes. What you had not expected was the dreamy boy who sat in the first row and had full possession of your heart.

You didn’t even know his name, but you were pretty sure you were half in love with him. With fluffy brown hair that fell over his forehead whenever he leaned over to scribble down notes, and cute bunny teeth that stuck out in a flustered smile whenever the professor praised his work in class, he was perhaps the cutest boy you had ever seen.

Though you were sure he had many girls sighing after him, he seemed to be really shy, only ever speaking in class when called on, and even then it was in a quiet, soft voice. He was kind of like you in that respect. But that was where your similarities ended.

Yes, you thought, sighing as you watched him pay avid attention to the professor’s lecture on the composition of frames, his cute doe eyes wide and twinkling like stars were embedded in the pupils, He is way out of my league.

It took three days for you to lose hope. You hadn’t received a text, nor had you found any notes left for you. You tried not to be disappointed, even as your traitorous sub-conscience mocked you for being able to scare away the one person who arguably paid you the most attention.

You didn’t really have many friends, and the ones you did have preferred each other over you, and often left you out of activities because of your shy nature. You guessed this whole thing had just been a way to feel like you actually mattered to someone, like, for once, someone cared about you, but-

You were pulled out of your musings as your phone chimed.

From: Unknown Number

[6:48 PM]

this is koo

The two of you texted every day, and soon enough you were hiding your phone underneath your desk in order to chat to him, keeping your phone on your person at all times in case koo wanted to talk. Of course, the only class you didn’t do this in was Photography, so you could spend a blissful forty-five minutes staring at the boy who played the role of your husband in all of your favourite daydreams.

Koo still broke into your house occasionally, and he still left you sweet, considerate gifts. Often, you would receive texts like this:

From: koo ✨

[3:24 PM]

sweets i’ve been checking your groceries and your vegetables are not being eaten as often as they should be

i know you have a sweet tooth and that’s cute but please try to stay healthy

To: koo ✨

[3:25 PM]

but i can’t cook all i know how to make is microwaveable mac n cheese :///////

You came back home that day to discover a bunch of Tupperwares full of pre-made healthy meals and a note stuck to the top of them.

try microwaving these :)

To: koo ✨

[3:01 AM]

koo are you awake?

From: koo ✨

[3:01 AM]

i am now

what’s wrong?

To: koo ✨

[3:02 AM]

i can’t sleep :////////

From: koo ✨

[3:02 AM]

sweets you need to go to bed

you have an early morning class

To: koo ✨

[3:02 AM]

i knowwwwww

i just… i can’t sleep without mr snuggles :((

From: koo ✨

[3:03 AM]

Mr Snuggles??

???

To: koo ✨

[3:03 AM]

my cuddly bunny :((((

i think you took him a while ago

could i maybe have him back…?

From: koo ✨

[3:03 AM]

Shit

i didn’t know you couldn’t sleep without him

[3:04 AM]

sweets im so sorry

To: koo ✨

[3:04 AM]

its okay koo

From: koo ✨

[3:04 AM]

no it isn’t

you’re loosing sleep because of me

fuck

i could… bring him to you?

To: koo ✨

[3:05 AM]

you’d do that?

…i could see you?

From: koo ✨

[3:05 AM]

no i’d leave him outside

you’d have to promise not to come out until i text you saying i’ve left

To: koo ✨

[3:06 AM]

but kooooo :(((((

From: koo ✨

[3:07 AM]

sweets

To: koo ✨

[3:07 AM]

okay :((((((((((

but i expect you to leave a big box of chocolates on my pillow for me to come home to tomorrow evening!!

From: koo ✨

[3:08 AM]

of course sweets <3

im gonna get going now

don’t look outside your apartment

To: koo ✨

[3:08 AM]

okay

From: koo ✨

[3:34 AM]

im gone and mr snuggles is waiting outside for you

he might have a little gift with him

You trudged outside your apartment, rubbing your eyes blearily, and looked down to see your beloved plushie clutching a single rose in its paws. You gasped, leaning down to pick up the flower gently, and you noticed all the thorns had been taken off. Koo must’ve removed them so that you didn’t accidentally hurt yourself.

You felt warmth flood you, drowning the butterflies in your stomach and replacing them with something much less fleeting, much less shallow.

It sunk into your bones, into your heart, into your breath as you sighed, squeezing your long-lost Mr Snuggles close to your face. He carried the familiar scent of nostalgia, but also something different, something sharper. You realised with a jolt that you were smelling Koo’s cologne.

You went back to bed, nuzzled your face into the plushy’s furry belly, and dreamed of fluffy brown hair and bunny smiles.

Though with Mr Snuggles’ help you were able to sleep wonderfully, you were only able to do so for four hours before your alarm jolted you back into early reality. Honestly, you were sorely tempted to just ditch class, but it was Photography, and if you missed your regular dose of the cute boy in the front row then you thought you might just crumble into dust.

You dragged yourself out of bed, pulling on your softest oversized hoodie — a gift from Koo which, now that you thought about it, smelled like the same cologne that Mr Snuggles did. You flushed at the thought of him giving you one of his hoodies to wear, though you couldn’t say exactly why that image charmed you.

You stumbled into the lecture, arms full of textbooks because you knew you wouldn’t have the energy to return back to your apartment to retrieve the relevant materials for your next class later in the day. Your excellent plan was to crash in the library directly after this, have a two hour power-nap, and then make yourself get up in time for Calculus.

You barely had the energy to listen to the professor droning on and on about… the perfect lense, or whatever. You allowed yourself the indulgence of tuning out, resting your chin on your palm and gazing dreamily at the boy in the front row. He was taking notes, as per usual. What a good student! You praised him in your head. I bet he has the best handwriting.

Despite your best efforts, you fell asleep within ten minutes. You were woken as the class concluded by the clamour of students grabbing their materials and the scrape of chairs as your classmates stood up, leaving you behind — the only one half-splayed across the desk in front of you.

You jerked upright, grabbing your stuff in one hand as you tried to tug on your bag, eventually succeeding with much struggle, only to drop it all again as soon as you stood up. You whimpered, watching helplessly as your textbooks fanned across the floor. You saw one of them split along the spine as it landed on an open page.

That cost me two hundred dollars, you thought absently, and I just chucked it down like a bouncy ball.

Suddenly, you glimpsed someone crouching down and gathering them all up into a sturdy pile. As he stood up, your vision was full of fluffy brown hair, errant strands falling into star-filled doe eyes.

Oh. Oh no.

“H-Here you are,” He murmured, passing you the pile gently, making sure you were able to take the weight before leaving them in your arms. When he leaned close to you, you breathed in a scent that was oddly familiar, and yet new at the same time. As his hands receded, his skin brushed against yours for a second and you swear your vision blanked out.

“Thanks,” You whispered, your gaze so firmly focused on the floor that you didn’t notice his flushed cheeks.

As soon as you got to the library, you whipped out your phone, all tiredness banished from your system by that momentous experience. You had talked to him.

To: koo ✨

[8:47 AM]

koo i think im in love

From: koo ✨

[8:47 AM]

what

with who

To: koo ✨

[8:47 AM]

this boy in my photography class

he’s just so-

[8:48 AM]

i can’t even explain it

i dropped my textbooks and he picked them up for me and i stg i almost cried

From: koo ✨

[8:48 AM]

wait

seriously??

To: koo ✨

[8:49 AM]

yeah i cry at like the drop of a hat

From: koo ✨

[8:49 AM]

no-

cute

but i mean

that’s who you’re in love with?

To: koo ✨

[8:49 AM]

yeah?

From: koo ✨

[8:49 AM]

gray sweater

[8:50 AM]

big eyes

tall-ish

that’s him???

To: koo ✨

[8:50 AM]

OMG YOU’RE IN MY PHOTOGRAPHY CLASS AREN’T YOU

From: koo ✨

[8:50 AM]

WHAT

IM NOT

To: koo ✨

[8:50 AM]

OMGGGGGGG

YOU SAW HIM HELP ME SO YOU MUST BE IN MY CLASSSS

[8:51]

okay!

are you the frat guy who always comes in hungover???

no judgement

From: koo ✨

[8:51 AM]

To: koo ✨

[8:52 AM]

are you the guy who only ever wears knitwear???

From: koo ✨

[8:52 AM]

To: koo ✨

[8:53 AM]

…are you the professor?

From: koo ✨

[8:53 AM]

NO!!!!!

oh my god lets just meet up or something before i explode

To: koo ✨

[8:53 AM]

WAIT

ARE YOU SERIOUS????

From: koo ✨

[8:54 AM]

…you’re that excited to meet me?

To: koo ✨

[8:54 AM]

OF COURSE I AM

OH MY GODDDD

WHEN?

From: koo ✨

[8:54 AM]

now?

i can meet you at the campus coffee shop in like five minutes?

To: koo ✨

[8:55 AM]

five minutes???

that’s not enough time koo i have to go home and pick out something pretty to wear !!

From: koo ✨

[8:55 AM]

it doesn’t matter what you wear, you’re always beautiful to me

To: koo ✨

[8:56 AM]

you

you think im

b-beautiful

: ’ ))))))))))

From: koo ✨

[8:57 AM]

…

haha see you there!!

To: koo ✨

[8:57 AM]

GET BACK HERE WE HAVE TO TALK ABOUT THIS-

You sat on an empty table, fiddling with the tea bag tag which hung over the side of your mug. You had bought Green Tea as an effort to calm yourself down so you weren’t too anxious to meet Koo, but it hadn’t worked because you were impatient and sipped it too soon so now you were sat there nursing a burnt tongue like an idiot.

You knew it was irrational to be self-conscious. He already knew who you were, and seemed to like you, it was just you that was in the dark. You went over the possible people Koo could be, mentally cycling through the boys in your photography class. It was an annoyingly large class, which meant he would be anyone from the guy who smelled like Funyuns to-

Fluffy-haired boy strolled into the coffee shop and you let out an involuntary sigh. He seemed to be cheerful, a smile exposing his bunny teeth and making his cheeks bunch up adorably, with like, five different sets of dimples poked into them. You had never agreed more with the saying that dimples were caused by an angel’s kiss.

Well, at least I’ll have something nice to look at while I wait, you thought, just before all your thoughts suddenly tipped out of your head when you realised he was walking towards your table.

“Is this seat taken?” He grinned, before sliding into the seat across from you.

You whimpered, and his smile grew devastatingly wider.

“Hi,” He breathed, before his gaze flickered down to your mug of tea, clutched so tightly in your hands that you worried the ceramic might shatter. “You didn’t get hot chocolate? I thought you had a sweet tooth?”

“Uhm-” You choked, before forcing yourself to get a grip. How would Koo feel if he walked in here and saw you sitting with another guy? “I’m actually- I’m waiting for someone. Sorry.”

If it was possible — and it certainly seemed to be — the boy’s grin broadened even more, his eyes crinkling into adorable half-moons.

“Is that so? Is he your boyfriend?”

“No!” You blurted, before flushing profusely. The boy across from you seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the display. “I mean- uhm, I don’t know. Maybe? This is our- this is our first actual meeting.”

“Oh?” The boy tilted his head, “Really? How exciting.”

You hummed in agreement, eyes fixed on your slowly cooling beverage. You raised it to your mouth to take a hesitant sip and- nope, still too hot. You whined quietly, rubbing your sore tongue against the inside of your cheek to try and soothe it.

“Oh, sweets,” The boy murmured across from you, and you were too distracted to notice the nickname. He plucked the mug out of your hands and placed it on the other side of the table, as if he was trying to make sure it couldn’t hurt you anymore. “Are you okay? Do you want me to take you to the campus infirmary?”

“Wha- no, it’s okay,” You mumbled, lisping slightly on your burnt tongue and blushing when he cooed over you, “It’s- I’m waiting here for someone, and- I mean, I don’t even know your name-”

“It’s Jungkook,” He interrupted cheekily, deliberately ignoring the rest of your statement, “Some people call me Kookie, and really special people call me… Koo.”

Oh. Oh.

Fuck.

“Really special people?” You asked, your voice small, and not because of the burn.

“Well, people…” Jungkook- Koo paraphrased, tilting his head slightly, “I guess it would be more accurate to say… one really special person.”

“Really?” You breathed, and Jungkook leaned over the table, close enough that you could smell his cologne, the same scent embedded in the fabric of your hoodie- his hoodie.

“The most special person.” He murmured, the fervent emotion packed in each word speaking louder than any increase of volume could.

You had never been anyone’s most special person before, but, as you looked into Jungkook’s chocolate eyes, you started to believe you could almost taste it, sticky sweet on your lips. And when Jungkook eventually, finally coaxed your lips in a gentle kiss, you let him in, and found out that happiness tastes reassuringly honey-sweet.

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