#this wasn’t meant to be a donation post but when it got reblogged before having the donation links it felt weird
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didn’t want to clutter up my friends donation post with my thoughts but I can’t even put into words the physical and mental effect homelessness and unstable housing (as in shelter is not a guarantee bc your living conditions are such that at any given moment you might become homeless again by being forced to leave - either literally or to protect yourself) has on a person, even just short term like within just a matter of days it’s fucking brutal. and weeks, months of that, it’s beyond brutal there’s no words …
like when u don’t have housing, just existing suddenly becomes 1,000x harder. ur ability to survive is so deteriorated. every second of every minute of every hour of every day ur fighting for ur life. all of ur energy is devoted to surviving each day and figuring out how ur gonna survive the following day, because it literally takes all ur energy to do that. at all times. it consumes you. when ur in that position, in high stress survival mode with no break/respite (can’t really take a break from homelessness lol), u start deteriorating so fucking fast in every way. ur stressed, tired, hungry, uncomfortable, unsafe, and u feel gross, dirty, depressed, heartbroken, anxious, scared, angry, so incredibly alone…. and the feeling of just, pure horror. you’re drowning or you’re falling from a great height with no parachute. and nobody is coming to save you. it’s bleak. if u can sleep, it’s out of pure exhaustion, and from the moment you wake up you’re plunged into a nightmare. mental resilience and emotional resilience are CRUCIAL to ur survival and ur motivation to survive but the stress and anxiety and pure horror of homelessness fucking deteriorates ur mental/emotional resiliency like it just wrecks it to hell scarily quickly. you’re operating at like 20% physically and mentally, in a situation that demands 100% at all times. It feels goddamn impossible to deal with, every moment. and the only reason it is possible to deal with it is because your body is alive. like, it’s a technicality. and you can genuinely feel the weeks, months, and years being taken off your life because of it all
Idk where I was going with this but goddamn knowing my friend and his poor sweet wife have been feeling all of that for months and now feeling hope being crushed and fear of it all happening again because the housing theyve found being unexpectedly unstable I just … it fucking sucks, to put it lamely. they don’t deserve that, they shouldn’t have to be dealing with that, because housing is a human right. or should be at least. So fuckin disheartening seeing them go thru this shit
a couple ppl have reblogged this post so in case more ppl rb this, im adding my friend’s donation info. please consider donating to him and his wife or boosting his donation post ❤️
C4shapp: $goldenratio1123
V3nmo: @ iwannadaisuki
P4ypal: @ poppybun
#this wasn’t meant to be a donation post but when it got reblogged before having the donation links it felt weird#like it felt wrong ykwim?#just realized I use the word deteriorate like 500 times in this post lmao 😭#i need a thesaurus
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Chapter Eight: Relentless
Pairing: Unsub!Spencer x fem!reader
Content warnings: murder, death, revenge, threats (let me know if i missed anything)
Word Count: 1.4k
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…
I left before she woke up, tiring her out and putting her into a deep sleep. I snuck off to a bar, needing a drink to clear my head. She scared me. Her love scared me more than I ever could admit.
I’d never been loved like this. It was fierce and strong and nothing I’d ever thought I get to experience in my entire life. Sure, I craved it when I was younger, looking for it in the places I shouldn’t be. But now that I have it? I am stressed.
“You’ve been staring into your glass for the past twenty minutes. Everything okay?” The female voice broke my train of thought and made me look up. She was young, probably a year or two younger than my pet. Her strawberry hair curly and beautiful. She was beautiful, I’d be a liar if I said she wasn’t. But she didn’t come close to the girl I left sleeping just a few blocks away. No one did.
She slid into the seat next to me, her chin resting in her hand as she waited for me to reply. I sent her a half smile that I knew didn’t meet my eyes, “just dandy.” It came out more sarcastic than I meant it to.
She nods, “I mean, if everything was dandy, you wouldn’t be here drinking at midnight. Right?” She had a point. But I didn’t care. I didn’t owe her anything. And, frankly, I didn’t want to talk to her. I wanted to get lost in my drink, and my thoughts.
“Right.” I hoped she would get the hint with my dry response, but the bitch didn’t give up.
“No ring. Is it safe to assume you aren’t married? Or, at least, not married yet?” I raised my brows at her. She was observant, persistent. Some could also stand to call her a ‘home wrecker’ and a whore. But she wasn’t the kind of whore I was interested in.
“You’re right. I am not married. And I don’t have a fiancé.” Her basic profile skills didn’t impress me. And girl who was able to bring home a man from a bar could do it. That’s how dating works.
“So, where is the girlfriend? Shouldn’t she be with you?” I could hear the snark in her voice. Her confidence growing in the fact that I was here without her. But if only she knew.
“Home. Sleeping. She had a long day.” I tried to be as a dry as humanly possible. I didn’t exactly want to tell her to go fuck herself, but I also didn’t want to talk to her. I felt I made that overly clear. Apparently not.
“So why aren’t you home with her?” She got a little closer, her hand moving closer to me. I backed away.
I took a sip of my drink to give myself a minute to think before I answered. She was annoying me, her perfume choking me. “Like I said. She had a long day. I fucked her to sleep and decided to have a drink.”
She laughed. It was then that I learned she didn’t care if I was single or not. That wasn’t one of her boundaries. She was going to bat her lashes, and push up her tits to try to get me to take her home. It didn’t matter that I had a beautiful pup waiting for me at home. She didn’t care. She wanted to get off and she was going to get it no matter what. To her, I was a challenge and she was going to pull all her tricks out of her hat to get me in her bed.
But I wouldn’t be going.
Girls like her were ones who ended up on the news, their bodies drained of blood and their faces bashed in. But I guess I cant be too judgmental considering that’s how I met y/n. The difference was I didn’t want to kill y/n. This girl… I wouldn’t mind forcing to stare down the barrel of my fucking gun because she’s so fucking annoying.
“Look, sweetheart, I know you think you’re so cute and probably always get the men you hit on. But I am not interested. I have a girl at home and I’m more than happy with her. But, a word of advice? You need to be careful who you let take you home. I would hate to see that face on the news. Clearly, no ones taught you about serial killers.”
I watched her eyes get wide as it all clicks in her head. ”I-I’m sorry.” She backs down after that, sliding off the barstool next to me and shakily walking away. I simply nodded, knowing she was watching me, before I finished my drink.
…
I was back in her bed before dawn, deciding to walk around the city and clear my head. I was trying to keep a low profile, seeing as I wanted to keep my old ‘friends’ off my back for as long as humanly possible. But the urge to watch someone else’s life drain from their eyes is getting stronger and stronger.
But every time I would find someone semi worthy, her face from that night would pop into my mind. Sure, she was the one who pulled the trigger, but she didn’t mean to get us caught. And she was terrified of them taking me away from her. I couldn’t put her through that again. Not this time.
But I needed to do something and do something quick. I knew taking my blood lust out on her wasn’t going to do anything for either of us. So I needed to figure something out. Maybe I could train her to shoot, maybe ‘accidentally’ kill someone. Who knows.
“Spence?” Her groggy morning voice making me smile.
“Hi honey,” I coo as I kiss her cheek, “how did you sleep?”
She stretches and turns in my arms, “I slept okay. You smell like whisky.” She smiles at me so I know she isnt upset. I wouldn’t mind if she was.
“Couldn’t sleep. Needed to clear my head. I’m sorry.” I didn’t know why I was apologizing to her. Nothing I did needed an apology.
“Did you kill someone and you aren’t telling me?” She grins, the glimmer in her eyes making my heart flutter. Her acceptance made my heart flutter.
I laugh “no baby. I didn’t kill someone. I promise.”
She hugs me tighter, kissing my chest. “Good. Cant do it without me.” I bite back the urge to laugh because realistically it isnt funny.
“Is your blood lust as bad as mine?” I guess honesty is the best policy.
Her eyes get wide, “n-no. But we can fix it if you want. Just gotta be careful. Cant lose you again.” She grips me tighter, her ear resting on my chest.
“You wont lose me baby. I wont let it happen.” I kiss her head. I missed her while I was gone. Even if it was just for a few hours. I didn’t want to be without her again. Not for an hour, not for a minute. If I could cuff her to me, I would. But that wasn’t socially acceptable.
She nods, “um we should get on the move. I don’t think staying here is a good idea.”
In any other situation I would say she was right. But I had business to finish here and I was resting until I had my revenge. I needed it. I needed to show them who they fucked with.
They spent years breaking me down so they could mold me into the person they wanted. Gideon took me immediately from college. At the time I thought it was the greatest thing ever, being 24 and getting into the FBI’s most prestigious unit. I thought, for once, I would finally be treated with dignity and respect. That finally, someone would see me for more than a genius.
But fuck was I wrong. So very fucking wrong. And I was going to make them pay for it. Gideon may be dead, but the rest weren’t.
…
@eideticsreid @moondustmemories @muffin-cup @onlyhereforthefanfics @secretpickleprofessordean @will-on-the-internet @x2moonlight2x-blog @big-galaxy-chaos @slut-for-mothman @mikewizkalifa @dr-spencerr-reidd @reidsconverse @ssaalexisreid @thisiscalm-andits-doctor @starryeyedvirgosworld @thevirgofangirl @spencersawkward @nova3312 @spencerreidat3am @xoxospencerreid @pancake2603 @spenxerslut @freakyhood96 @mochionly @nichmeddar @measure-in-pain @oh-what-a-cutie @withasideofmeg @totallyclearwitch @vaella1821 @flipperpenguins @manuosorioh @rosienie @luvofyourlifeliv
#Revenge Series#Revenge#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid#criminal minds fic#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid fic
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coffee is the sixth love language | part two
Summary: Over three cups of coffee, Spencer realized his feelings for you. And over three cups of coffee, he acts on them. gn!Reader.
A/N: the italicized this time indicates Spencer’s thoughts, not reader’s. part of this story is inspired directly from these comments made by @doctorthreephds on the reblog! thanks for letting me incorporate them :)
category: fluff, sfw
warnings: technically none, but the “profiling” part is kind of a reach.
word count: 3k
Once Spencer was firmly resolute on asking you out, he knew he wanted it to be special in a way that only the two of you could appreciate. He realized that he had yet to be the one bringing you coffee, and so it felt only right that it should be how he makes his first move. He woke up extra early on a weekday morning to stop by your favorite coffee shop on his way to work because he knew you loved their banana nut muffins and double-brewed coffee. It was an extra twenty-five minutes out of the way for work each way, so you only got to go there on the rare occasion that you had a day off and were not out of town on a case. It might have been ridiculous to drive fifty minutes for a single damn muffin, but Spencer wanted to make this perfect for you by any means necessary. This was one of the special times that Spencer drove his car, needing the extra speed in order to complete his mission.
He picked up your regular drink order and the muffin and was anxiously on his way back to Quantico. As per his plan he arrived at the office before you did, though not too much earlier because he wanted to make sure your coffee was still hot by the time you got it. If Spencer’s calculations were correct - which they almost always were - you would arrive within a two to four and a half minute window from when he did. Spencer took out a sharpie from his desk drawer and delicately scrawled a message onto the top corner of the pastry bag holding your muffin. He thought it felt like something out of a cheesy romance novel, the kind of novels that you could find in the fifty cent clearance bins, but dammit if Spencer didn’t deserve a little cheesy romance in his life. The other benefit of this was that he thought he would almost certainly choke on his words if he had to ask you himself. He set the two items on your desk and returned to his own to sit and observe. Spencer hoped it would be the first of many coffees he could buy you.
It wasn’t until you had already walked into the bullpen and were halfway to your desk that Spencer realized he had forgotten to sign his name to the bag. How were you supposed to react to him asking you out if you didn’t actually know it was him? And oh God, he left unsealed food on the desk of an FBI agent, with no indication of who had put it there. That is infinitely more suspicious than it is romantic. He wouldn’t be surprised if she took it straight to the trash can. So long for cheesy romance, Dr. Reid.
But Spencer was absolutely elated when your first reaction was to peek into the bag and gasp out of joy at what was inside. He watched you break off a piece of your beloved banana nut muffin and chew it gleefully, and all he could think of was how cute you looked when you were happy. Shortly followed by concern that a federal agent would so readily eat unmarked food that could have been tampered with. That’s something I should bring up to her on the date.
Spencer’s stomach was in knots not knowing if you would pick up on the message. You swallowed that chunk of the muffin and turned the bag over to find an almost illegible black script that you had nearly missed: Would you like to have coffee with me? It just felt like all of the air had been knocked out of your body.
It didn’t even take you half a second to know who this was from; there were so many tells it was Spencer. Before you even noticed the note, you knew it was from him when you saw what was inside the bag. The whole team knew what your favorite coffee shop was because you had talked about it enough times. Hell, you even owned a oversized tee with their name on it that you kept in your go bag as a sleep shirt. But nobody knew what your favorite muffin was because you never mentioned it. In fact, if you thought about it there were maybe only a handful of times over the six months you’d been at the BAU that you even elected to eat this pastry in lieu of a real breakfast. But if anyone was going to detect a pattern, it would have been Dr. Reid. Of course he would pick up on the fact that you only picked those out at cafes when you felt like having a sweet treat, or that when Penelope brought in baked goods for the office you would only indulge if you saw your favorite item in the lineup.
You already knew it, but in case you had any doubt, the note itself confirmed your theory twice. One indicator was the phrasing choice would you as opposed to will you. Use of would posits a hypothetical, as in hypothetically, would you have an interest in drinking coffee together, rather than a hard, come with me to get coffee. The hesitance in the tone came off as if the sender were testing the waters, wanting to put the idea out there without coming off as too strong. Because it was reserved, it gave you room to think if you would genuinely enjoy doing so as opposed to making you feel like you should oblige. That level of respect screamed Spencer to you. And though it was so glaringly obvious, if you needed some concrete evidence it was the fact that nobody else had such endearingly atrocious handwriting like Dr. Reid. It was something you always found hilariously ironic for a man who often analyzes other people’s writing styles for work. You wondered what his way of scribbling said about him, and hoped he could tell you on that date of yours.
You looked straight at him, finding that his eyes were already fixed on you.
“Yes.”
One word was all you had to say to make the lump in Spencer’s throat disappear, replaced by the sensation that his heart was leaping out of his chest. He was going to keep that memory stored in his brain forever, just to replay the moment when the future of your relationship changed with a simple word. Little did he know that when you finished that muffin, you neatly folded the pastry bag and tucked it into your desk drawer, saving it for the exact same purpose.
_____
Spencer had gotten to see your favorite coffee spot already, so for your date you requested that he take you to his to make it even. It was small, but incredibly cozy under the soft ambiance provided by string lights and charm of their mismatched furniture. There was one exposed brick wall adjacent to another that was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf; it housed copies that loyal patrons left behind for others to pick up. All of those books had different colors of post-its peeking out from the pages. It was almost too eclectic and disorganized for what you would expect Dr. Reid to be into, but at the same time it made perfect sense to you.
“You know, I think I just learned something about you.” You leaned gently into his side to tell him, both hands wrapped around your coffee cup because you were too nervous to know what else to do with them. Spencer was the kind of guy to sit adjacent to you at a table, rather than across, and you loved that about him. You loved having him as close to you as possible.
Spencer’s lips pulled at the edges to form a perfect, lazy smile. “What did you learn about me?” The team had an agreement not to profile each other, but under your gaze, Spencer never felt the kind of scrutiny that came with picking people apart. He trusted that whatever you had to say was going to be kind.
“I think this place says so much about you. Something about how all those books are donations passed on from locals, and that people feel comfortable taking a book off the shelf and opening it up to read what others recommend. The fact that they leave little notes in it for the next reader to share what those stories meant to each of them. Nobody asked those people to do that, but they all chose to take part in these small actions that ended up creating an entire community.” It was one of the most beautifully human things you’d ever witnessed. A group of people engaging in understated and innocent gestures of love between perfect strangers, completely unprompted. “I think you value simple acts, the kind that can take on profound meaning without even intending to. Like when silence feels so comfortable when you’re with the right person.” You paused to take in his reaction as a gauge for how right or wrong you may be. He gave no objection to what you had posited, eyes simply glued to you in intense focus. Spencer was hanging on everything you said, wordlessly encouraging you to divulge more theories you’d developed on him.
“And, visually, this furniture reminds me of a family home. The kind where some items were handed down for generations, some bought new, and others gifted by a distant relative who has no idea what the family likes.” Spencer’s soft laughter mirrored your own at your very accurate description of the shop’s decor. The room truly could not be more disjointed in its aesthetic, but that was entirely its charm. “It probably reflects that there are some aspects of your life that just don’t make sense to you, that almost seem to conflict with each other. For a guy so smart, I’m sure it’s scary to feel like you don’t understand something, and there are probably dark spots in that brain of yours that you try to hide from the world. But in this room, these things that don’t seem like they work together actually amount to something so lovely. And just like the charmingly hideous suede couch and the oddly fur-covered armchairs, every facet of you deserves appreciation because without them you wouldn’t make up to be the beautiful person you are overall.”
Neither of you could pinpoint the moment which your hands had drifted together, fingers loosely intertwined in gentle embrace. There was too much to unpack in what you had said for Spencer to know where to begin. The only thing he could say for sure was that he was astounded by how deeply you understood him without him ever saying any of those things. He considered that maybe you understood him better than he did himself and wished that he could spend his whole life observing the world through the same rose-tinted lenses with which you viewed him. At a loss for words, Spencer chose not to say any right then. The silence I have with you is the most comfortable I’ve ever had.
_____
After each of you consumed one too many caffeinated beverages, you still were not prepared to let the date end. You were willing to sit there and have as many espresso drinks as you could to keep talking to Spencer.
The universe must have been in support of your romance as the overcast skies broke and began to rain just minutes after the two of you had left the shop. Spencer was walking you back to your apartment, clearly forcing his long legs to slow down their naturally fast stride so to extend how long it took to get there. He could get an extra thirteen minutes with you this way. Spencer was given his perfect excuse to keep the date going in the form of heavy downpour; his apartment was far closer than yours, and he proposed you two should seek shelter together until it stopped. I hope it never stops.
Spencer held tightly onto your hand as he ran with you through the rain, giggling all the way to his apartment. He may not like wet, cold climates, but he sure did like holding your hand. Being next to you made him feel incredibly warm somehow when the temperature outside was very much not. And you felt completely at peace sitting on Spencer’s couch wearing one of his sweaters that he lent you. Truthfully, your own clothes weren’t so wet from the rain that it was necessary, but you both pretended it absolutely was just to be able to experience this.
It was clear that the rain would be going for a while and all you wanted to do to pass the time was continue listening to Spencer talk. You discovered that when he’s not interrupted, he loves to go on runaway tangents, often bouncing between different trains of thought as one idea sparked him to remember another. It was almost a sport to keep up with him, but it was perhaps the only one you’ve ever enjoyed. It was so easy when everything he said interested you. You loved that Spencer taught you something new every day, but no matter how niche a piece of trivia or shocking an unknown fact was, it could not beat the things that he taught you about himself. He was letting you in on so many unseen dimensions of himself whether he knew it or not, the explicit ones revealing implicit ones.
You had happily stayed in his home for hours, absorbing every word he spoke. What entertained you the most was the ability of your conversation to jump from deep, serious places to lighthearted stories filled with jokes and teasing and back again in a way that felt completely natural. Your favorite anecdote of his was the story of how he got addicted to coffee. It was the BAU’s favorite inside-joke that Spencer liked his coffee sickeningly sweet and you always wondered how he could tolerate it. Just looking at it made your teeth ache. When he told you why, you thought that the backstory was even sweeter than the coffee.
As a twelve year old college student, Spencer found himself experiencing sleep deprivation for the first time in his life. The course load was more rigorous than he had in high school and even the boy genius needed to readjust to the new expectations of college. More importantly, he needed to cope with pulling late nights at the library if he wanted his first degree by the time he was eligible for a driver’s license. The Red Bulls that the other kids seem to gravitate to seemed far too aggressive for Spencer, their potent smell of chemicals a huge turn off. They were definitely not for him.
He remembered how often his mom used to drink coffee, always in the morning while Spencer got ready for school. Being at CalTech and away from his mother, who remained in Las Vegas most of the time due to her condition, made him so homesick that he took up a coffee habit as a reminder of her. He loved the way it smelled like every comfort he had ever known.
Though he appreciated its smell, Spencer, of course, was not ready back then to love the way it tasted. He was still after all a twelve year old boy who had a sweet tooth like any other kid. The bitter drink was almost offensive to him, so he always made his coffee with extra, extra sugar. He was a menace to the baristas at the campus coffee cart because they would have to refill the shaker every time he stopped by. As it turned out, Spencer was actually a little troublemaker in his youth.
You utterly adored this story and the way it humanized Spencer in a way that other people did not consider often enough. Yes, he was the genius in incredibly advanced classes for his age, but he was also a little kid who behaved as all little kids did. He also experienced struggle and had to cope with it just like everyone else. He was not, as some chose to believe, a complete anomaly beyond understanding. Those many misunderstood idiosyncrasies Spencer had started to feel grounded as you learned more about him and could appreciate how and why they came to be.
But the night was dwindling down and two of you had gone through many stories since the start of your day together. Hitting a caffeine crash, you found yourself unable to keep some rogue yawns at bay. It was only eight o’clock in the evening, not an unreasonable time for you to ask Spencer to drive you back home. The rain was letting up to a mellow drizzle. Spencer was running out of excuses to keep you here.
But you thought about how still hadn’t heard about his first pet lizard, which he caught in his backyard, and you didn’t yet know what kind of music he listened to when he was fourteen. And you no longer thought you needed to make excuses to stay with him longer, so you told him honestly that all you really wanted was to stay the night with him and keep hearing his stories. So you asked him if he would set on a fresh pot of coffee, just so you both could sip at it, staying awake all night together.
He happily did so, and while he set the large coffee pot on and took out two cups from his cabinet, he thought, this is the first of many wishes of yours that I’d like to make come true.
______
PART THREE
Tag list: @rexorangecounty @rachel-voychuk @snitchthewitch @spencer-blake-supremacy @happyreid187 @rainsong01 @librarymagic
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid fic#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fluff#mgg#matthew gray gubler#spencer reid self insert#spencer reid x y/n#criminal minds imagine#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfic#fluff#my fic#criminal minds self insert
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Watching the Rise of the Titans movie and I'll be documenting all of my thoughts/reactions here. [Spoiler Warning]
So instead of reblogging every new update, I'm just going to have this post up on my phone as I watch and type my reactions in a bullet list format.
Nari's human disguise is so cute. As someone who does have a cottagecore aesthetic, I want to cosplay her so bad
Are Skrael and/or Belroc non-binary coded? Regardless, I'm also obsessed and I want to fuck Skrael and be Belroc.
STEVE CARING ABOUT JIM BEING HURT YESSSS!!! My god his redemption has probably been one of the greatest there is because he doesn't just suddenly go from being a bully to a completely good person. You can see the gradual shift in learning better throughout the shows which is awesome.
IN NEW YOOOOOOORRRRRRRK!!!!!! CONCRETE JUNGLE WHERE DREAMS ARE MADE OFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!
The mugshot montage reminded me of season 1 of trollhunters when toby and Jim were arrested at the museum.
STRICKLER PUT A RING ON IT??? HE'S THE ONLY DILF IVE EVER ACTUALLY AGREED WAS HOT WYM I CAN'T HAVE HIM??? well I'm still really happy about his arc over the series probably one of my favorite character growths.
Eli my guy got his growth spurt!!! As an 18 year old who is still 5'0", I'm happy but envious for him
So I went into this movie without watching any trailers or promo, but I doubt anything could have prepared me for the existence of mpreg. In fact, I wasn't going to document my reactions until I saw that.
NAMURA!!!!!!!!! MY BELOVED!!!!!! I CAN STILL THIRST FOR YOU WITHOUT GUILT
The coach teacher just called the kids zoomers so I have to dock one point from my final rating just because of that. Unforgivable
Those husky animation models suck lmao
Oh fuck the titans got power ranger zords!!
God why did they include the mpreg??? This movie would have been perfect without it.... After that plot point being revisited only one time I'm already beyond done with it
Like it's bringing me back to the v*ltron days where they're was a suspiciously high amount of klance omegaverse and mpreg fics and art created and it physically hurts because Steve and Keith's voice actor is the same person meaning this is especially cursed to me since I was unfortunately in the v*ltron fandom and remember all of that
But like on another note, how old are these characters again??? I haven't checked any wikis because of spoilers but is Steve an adult??? I know aja might be technically a lot older than 18 because alien but is whatever age she is equivalent to an adult as far as emotionally and physically in Akaridion development??? IS THIS A TEEN (M)PREGNANCY IN A KIDS SHOW????
Like bruh I saw a singular post on here before going into the movie that was like "rott spoilers without context" and there was a pregnant belly but I was absolutely not expecting the actual context of it. I'll find the post after I finish and edit this post to tag the creator right here: @makoden
This entire post is just gonna be me ranting about mpreg huh
Anyway I love the whole roundtable allusion to the legends of king arthur (not the toa version but the one he's based off)
THERE'S 3 TO 5 BABIES????? I need to take a break bruh this is just too much
Alright I've taken a 30 minute break got some food and did some things i love (decompressed by tactile stimming with some owl plushies and watched some videos on my favorite owl, Garu. He lives in Japan with his owner and is a domesticated eagle owl who basically just acts like a sky cat. If anyone else needs some eye bleach, here is their YouTube channel)
Blinky and ARRRGHHH!!! saying their "if one of us doesn't make it" talk my god one of them is going to die I can see it and I will be utterly crushed. Jim can't lose another father figure and Toby can't lose his wingman again I will riot if this happens
On a similar but unrelated to the movie note, can we just talk about how toa started with Jim having 0 dads and (if strickler and blinky live to the end) will end with 2 dads? Like I just really feel happy for him that he has two dads who actually figured out how to put the past behind them to not have any infighting between them so that both of them are healthy father figures. Jim has already been through literal hell and back losing his actual humanity in the process so if he loses one of them, I'm going to be really pissed because at this point, this is just Jim torture porn. Y'all know how as SpongeBob SquarePants went on, the show just became Squidward torture porn? It's starting to feel that way for toa and I really hope they cut the shit by the ending
Jlaire is such a good ship but like I feel like it's too perfect they never disagree with each other
YESSSSSSS Someone finally doesn't treat toby like a fat waste of space who messes stuff up!!! I think out of all the characters that would have been most deserving of a rewrite, it's Toby. Sometimes I just feel he's only comic relief and any heartfelt moments he's had in the series was also born of stupidity (ie his flour baby project being unharmed was seen by him as divine intervention from his parents but was actually just Eli and Steve behind the scenes).
Ohhhhh yesssssss Archie's father!!! I was hoping I'd see him again because we got so little of him last
Ooooooooooh Asian trollmarket!!!!!
Oh never mind slavery trollmarket
Bruh titanic camelot
I feel like we're not seeing enough of the villains because I completely forgot about the power ranger zord things
NAMORA NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MY LAST CRUSHHHH
STRICKLER NO NOT YOU TOO PLEASE
WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THE ONLY TWO CHARACTERS I SIMP FOR ON THIS SHOW DIED WITHIN FIVE MINUTES OF EACH OTHER
THAT WHOLE ASS RANT I WROTE IS COMING TRUE FUCK THIS MOVIE THIS SERIES IS JUST JIM TORTURE PORN
WAIT JIM'S SPERM DONOR INFO?
Oh thank God I don't want to know anything about that person
For the record, I call that man Jim's sperm donor because he has no business being called a father to him. All he did was donate some swimmers to the creation of him and give him abandonment issues
Oh another blind troll elder???? This fucker is just if vendel was a bad guy
Bruh I was grieving
PACIFIC RIM WITH GUN ROBOT VEX AND THE BELROCZORD? I've never seen that movie but I know the reference
Bruh Blinky doesn't read horoscopes? Does he realize conspiracy theories are just the manly version of horoscopes?
NO DON'T KILL VEX STOP KO-ING FOUND FAMILY MEMBERS
Oh thank God he's okay
NO NOT ARCHIE AND CHARLEMAGNE OH MY GOD
oh never mind they're just gonna coup de tat I believe in them :))
But I want to see him again
But I'm glad to see vex
Yay they're in arcadia!
But yeah I wondered why the trolls and Merlin didn't keep the whole "daylight doesn't hurt trolls" feature from the eternal night but now Guillermo del Toro I see you were playing the long con in that just to kill my girl Namora :(((
Oooooh I love the animation of the Narizord over Chihuahua!! It looks very good and realistic (if only they could have put some of that into those huskies from before smh)
Bruh the character designs of the arcane order are so good I want to be them
Nari making sure the Skraelzord doesn't crush the bus
DAMN DOUBLE HOMICIDE
Bruh I'm just glad we finally have an answer on why arcadia had everything going on as opposed to literally anywhere else!! I always found that as a weird coincidence for plot convince.
BRUH WERE BACK TO THE MPREG IM SO JEALOUS I FORGOT ABOUT THAT EVEN THOUGH IT WAS BECAUSE I WAS GRIEVING THE LOSS OF MY LOVELIES.
Oh that's real convenient that the ninth configuration meant all of them. Way to not decide which character gets more attention. Though it probably was a smart way to not have any infighting in the fandom between each character's stan group.
Bruh I just realized where is Barbera did they just ditch her on the Camelot ship???
And where are the other trolls that migrated at the end of trollhunters s3? They said something about new jersey but obviously Jim and the other main characters got on Camelot instead.... This feels like a plot hole
And we never learned the process of how changelings are made and bonded to humans and stuff. We just know it's super painful but I'm curious ffs!!!!
THE DONT THINK BECOME HERO SPEECH ALL SAID TOGETHER!!!
BRUH THEY REALLY HAD TO SHOW HIM GIVING BIRTH??????? WAS THAT AN ABSOLUTE MUST??????
Plus the main audience for this series is little children (the rating for the movie is literally TV-Y7) so even though my adult ass is not in the target audience, I STILL DONT UNDERSTAND WHY WOULD MPREG AND ANAL BIRTH WOULD BE AN IMPORTANT THING TO 7 YEAR OLDS???? THIS IS A LITERAL FETISH HIDDEN IN KIDS CONTENT ITS ELSAGATE ALL OVER AGAIN Y'ALL 😭😭😭😭😭
Though it's probably hypocritical of me to think fetishes don't belong in kids tv when I've openly admitted to thirsting for strickler and namora
HUZZAH
NEW AMULET WAZ GOOD????
STAB THAT BITCH JIM
WAIT NO I SAID STAB NOT GET STABBED
Alright good job just missed the directions at first but you fixed it
SEVEN KIDS?????????
T O B Y ????????????
W A I T NO
N O
IS HE ACTUALLY
OH MY GOD THERE'S HOPE
NO THERE ISN'T
F U C K THIS SHIT THEY REALLY JUST HAD HIM TO BE BULLIED THEN KILLED
Y'ALL IM ACTUALLY CRYING THIS NEVER HAPPENS
I NEVER ACTUALLY GET SO EMOTIONAL OVER MEDIA THAT I CRY IT ONLY HAPPENED ONCE AT THE END OF VOLTRON BUT AHHHHHHHH
W A I T
HE'S GONNA BE BROUGHT BACK?????
HOLD UP THEY'RE JUST GONNA BRING ALL THOSE DEAD PEOPLE BACK??????
WAIT IS HE
BLINKY CALLED HIM A SON
HOLD ON IS THIS GOING TO BE A CLIFFHANGER???????????
BRUH THEY REALLY JUST CAN'T END THE SERIES WITHOUT CLIFFHANGERS like there's always an open ending
TROLLHUNTER TOBY????? You know what forget the whole rants I had on how toby was written they just redeemed it all
And that's all! I'd rate it a 6.5/10 because it's definitely the weakest of all the sequels but still had amazing animation and some good plot points. It's just really hard to look over the bad stuff enough to rate it any higher.
#tales of arcadia#rise of the titans#trollhunters#rott#rise of the titans spoilers#rott spoilers#toa#3 below#athena's own original post!#jim lake jr#claire nuñez#toby domzalski
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delicate. | harry styles.
summary: two lonely people find solace in each other for the night and something delicate blossoms from it.
pairing: harry styles x fem!reader
wc: 6.1k
warning(s): fluff and smut (a first attempt at it)
a/n: aaah i’m excited and nervous to post this. i guess it’s considered a Christmas fic because it’s set around that time. i do hope you guys enjoy this! i also wanna wish you all happy holidays! side note, i recently made a ko-fi account, so if you’re able to and like my writing, feel free to donate to it! anyways, enjoy! reblogs/feedbacks are very much appreciated! all my love and stay safe <3 (disclaimer: the gif rightfully belongs to @hampsteadharry )
He pushed through the door of the bar, jazz music filling up his ears as he wandered to get a seat. He sighed as he sat on a bar stool, waiting for someone to attend to him and possibly give him the strongest drink here if he felt like it.
Harry felt tired. He’s been tired and exhausted for a while now. Tired from work. Tired from the glitz and glam. Tired of people getting close to him because of his name and status. Just mentally and physically exhausted. But that’s not to dismiss the fact that he still loves his job. He loves and enjoys making music and seeing his fans - who he declared as the best fans in the world - singing back his songs to him.
Though, there comes a time where he doesn’t enjoy it as much as he thought he should lately. Being a well-known singer, songwriter and actor seemed pretty cool but no one knows how tiring and raining it could be. Always having to prove yourself and explaining yourself because of ridiculous rumours that articles make up. Always ending up hurt when you found out your friends were using you because of how well-known you were.
So, he announced that he’d be taking a break from all that. Of course, there was an uproar from his fans but in the end, they understood and sent him lovely messages about having to keep his mental health his main priority.
So now, here he was, sitting at a bar, trying to drink away his emotions. Perhaps, he would find a girl that he could go home with to fill in the empty space of his bed for the night. His break was quite eye-opening to say the least. Harry realised how alone he felt. He thought it was just all in his head because how could he be lonely even when he still had few of his friends around? But he didn’t know that being alone and still feeling alone were different.
And the irony of it nearly being Christmas, there wasn’t much magic or cheer going around for him at the moment. He’ll have to get his shit together before going back to visit his family for the holidays.
“What can I get ya?” a voice snapped Harry out of his thoughts. A woman stood before him behind the bar, he realised it was one of the bartenders there. She wore a long sleeved black shirt, the sleeves rolled up until her elbows. Her long hair was tied up into a ponytail, strands of hair framing around her face. He thought she was pretty. Beautiful, he would say.
Bartender lady snapped her fingers at his face, knocking him out of his thoughts once again. “Seemed to be far away there. Are you sure you’re good here? In a bar?” She said and she smirked at Harry. He felt the blood rushed to his cheeks, having been caught staring at the pretty bartender lady.
“S-Sorry. A whiskey for now will do,” he said softly. Pretty bartender lady smiled at him and nodded. “Alright, then,” she said, heading off to get his drink.
Harry’s eyes followed her figure, almost like he was entranced by her. He was not sure why he did. Seconds later, she put his drink on a coaster in front of him. “Thanks,” he quietly said as he picked up his drink.
“Don’t mention it. You seemed like you need it,” she said almost knowingly. He chuckled at her words. Well, she got that right. “Yeah, just trying to clear my head a bit,” he shrugged at her.
Pretty bartender lady nodded. “Rough day?” She inquired. Harry raised an eyebrow at her question. He probably thought that she was trying to make a conversation other than cleaning shot glasses. He hesitated a little, thinking she might just be another fan and might spill whatever that comes out of his mouth to the nearest journalist. But then, he remembered that he’s already one drink down to probably getting drunk and his mind won’t really care even if he woke up hungover the next day.
So, he shrugged at her question. “Guess you could say that,” he said as he set down the empty shot glass. “I don’t know. I guess I just have a lot of things in my mind. And drinking does numb my emotions a bit. If that made sense,” he chose to say as he looked at her.
She only giggled at his words. “That sounds quite deep. Should write a song about it,” she joked and for a second, Harry thought she knew about him. Because for once, he’d like to talk to someone who’s unaware of his celebrity status. Someone who’d talked to him with a sense of normalcy. Instead of talking to the famous Harry Styles.
“Maybe I should. And I’ll credit you in it,” he joked. She laughed, throwing her head back as she did. “Oh gosh, I always wanted to be a famous songwriter,” she said dramatically. They both laughed at this. It was weird to Harry, this scene felt so normal, it felt as if he knew her for a while now.
She nodded at his empty glass. “Want another?” She asked. Harry thought about it before asking. “Actually, what’s your favourite drink?” Pretty bartender lady was surprised to say the least, but smiled at Harry. “Why?” He only smiled back. “‘Cause I want another drink. And I want to treat you one too. I’ll even pay for yours, love,”
She blushed at this, not expecting him to be so forward yet sweet. “Cheeky, aren’t you?” She said smiling at him, and she noticed a hint of blush on his cheeks. “My mum always taught me to be a gentleman,” he shrugged,
She chuckled at this. “Fine then. I’ll be right back,” she said, going to get whatever her favourite drink was for Harry. Harry smiled as she walked away. He couldn’t help but feel some sort of liking towards her, but not knowing why. Maybe because she was just a pretty bartender lady.
She returned later with two glasses of her ‘favourite drink’ and set them in front of him. Harry was skeptical to see the strange colour of liquid, raising an eyebrow at her. She only smiled and raised her glass up.
“Bottoms up,” she said as she drank from her glass.
Harry sniffed the drink a bit before thinking he was being silly and drank it. As the sweet taste hit his taste buds, he chuckled as he shook his head. “Apple juice? Really?” He questioned.
She laughed as she took another sip on her drink. “Well, you asked for my favourite drink and I gave it to you,” she said with a smirk in her face. “So, you don’t drink?” he asked curiously. She shrugged at him. “A bit sometimes. Just don’t prefer it unless I wanna get really drunk,” she let out a small laugh. Harry chuckled at her words, finding himself agreeing with her.
Harry noticed how pretty of a smile she had. He didn’t know why a tiny detail like that stuck out to him. He found himself quite intrigued with the pretty bartender lady, which he realised he had been calling her that in his head without knowing her name. He stared into her eyes and found himself hypnotized by them. Suddenly, it seemed like they were the only two people in the room. Okay, stop. She’ll think you’re weird.
It was as if his mind took control over him and he found himself asking her, “When do you get off?” He asked, his eyes widening after realising the words that came out of his mouth.
What the fuck!?, he thought.
She was surprised, her mouth agape as she processed what he had just asked. But she seemed to compose herself quickly. “And why do you wanna know?” She asked nervously.
Harry paused before choosing his next words carefully. “Because you seem really cool to talk too. And I’d like to talk to you more,” he said. He was nibbling on his bottom lip, a habit he had whenever he got nervous. He shrugged before he continued, “It’s nice to have a friend, you know?”
Pretty bartender lady - and Harry swore he’ll get her name soon - nodded at him and smiled. Like she knew what he meant. “I’ll be off at 10,” she said. It was only 30 minutes until then. Harry was initially surprised at this, not thinking whether she would agree to - whatever he wanted to with her later.
He nodded in response. “I’ll, uh, wait for you here, then,” he spoke nervously. She chuckled and took their glasses away so she could clean and attend to the other customers before her boss yelled at her.
As she walked away, Harry called out to her. “Wait!” She turned around, eyes wide when he called her. “Um, what’s your name?” He asked. She smiled as her heart melted at the innocent question.
“It’s Y/N,” she replied.
Harry nodded, a small timid smile appearing on his face. “I’m Harry,” he said.
She smiled and nodded at his short introduction. Now, the pretty guy with forest green eyes had a name she could call him. “I’ll see you later, Harry,” she said as she returned to the back of the bar.
Harry sighed, seeming to be smitten already by her. “Yeah. See you later,” he said softly to himself.
❋
Now, Y/N was no idiot. She knew who Harry Styles was.
She wasn’t like the biggest fan, but she appreciated his music and thought he was a lovely guy in general, according to the fan experiences she read. She didn’t know much about him, other than he was a former member of a very successful boyband and his music was just incredible. Plus, she thought he was pretty handsome.
And when she saw him walking through the doors of the bar, she had to take a double take to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her.
She usually took her job quite seriously, she was polite to all customers and made sure they were always satisfied with their drinks or snacks. It was usually because she wanted to get the tips she needed to pay her rent. So, when Harry sat down by the bar, she couldn’t help herself but go to him.
But now, she was supposed to meet him after her shift. Which was strange to her because all she did was being nice to him and making up a conversation. Did he realise that she was pretending to not know him? Was this some sort of mind trick that was playing on her? Though, he mentioned how it was nice to have a friend. Maybe there was something behind that phrase that meant something deeper to him.
It was already 10 PM. Y/N said goodbye to her coworkers as she grabbed her scarf and coat from her locker. Her heart was beating fast because she realised she was about to go on a little rendezvous with Harry Styles, well, that was what she thought.
She wasn’t expecting anything. She honestly thought he might have just left, realising how silly it was to wait for a bartender friend he just made.
But she walked towards the front of the bar and he was still sitting in his seat like he said he would, waiting for her. And she felt like her heart might burst.
❋
Harry didn’t think he’d find himself sitting at a 24-hour diner, eating some waffles with a pretty friend he just met at nearly 11 PM. He was starting to blame that one whiskey drink he asked for earlier as to be honest, he didn’t know what was happening.
When he met Y/N in front of the bar after the shift, he was nervous, shifting on his feet in habit. When Y/N asked him what he had in mind, he froze because he realised he didn’t think this through. All he wanted was to talk to pretty bartender lady Y/N. The rest was all hazy to him. Luckily, Y/N just laughed at this and guided him to her favourite diner.
They both ordered waffles with honey and blueberry toppings, courtesy of Y/N as she said they were the best waffles she ever had. Y/N got herself a chocolate smoothie while Harry just ordered a nice hot tea. It was a nice little meal.
“So, Harry, what brings you here to LA?” Y/N asked him as she munched on her waffles.
Harry sipped on his tea before clearing his throat. “Uh, I live here, mostly for work. But I’m on a break now,” he said, not giving out too much information. “Hmm. But you haven’t lived here long, I assume. Could tell by your accent,” she said knowingly.
He smiled at this. “Yeah? You like my accent, darlin’?” he teased her and pride filled himself as he saw her cheeks flaring up in the colour red. “Quite the flirt, are ya? But yes, your accent is cute,” she said as she ate. “Good to know,” he smiled and winked at her.
Y/N rolled her eyes at him as she blushed. He seemed to be quite the flirt, teasing her and calling her pet names. If it were any other guy, she would’ve just left. She admitted that she might not have the best ways in maintaining a relationship. It was always whether she was too picky or bossy and her insecurities always got the best of her. She was used to feeling of being used for sex and her body even when she wanted to believe they wanted something more out of it. She closed herself off from love for a while now. While everyone said that her time will come, she just ignored them. Her main priority was herself and that was for sure.
But there was something about Harry that was pulling her in. He wasn’t far from what the papers write about him but at the same time, he was. He seemed somewhat closed off as she was. She didn’t want to pry, she’d never do that. It was like he was in this fish tank surrounded by spectators watching his every move. Maybe the life he has had somewhat prevented him from forming a real, honest attachment. Or maybe she was just making this all up.
She sipped on her smoothie, her eyes focused on his. She realised how green his eyes were looking up close. “So, I have a question. And I want you to answer this as truthfully as possible,” she said, propping her head on the palms of her hands. Harry raised an eyebrow at her, chuckling a bit before nodding. “Alright, love. Lay it on me,” he said, leaning back on the booth.
Y/N blushed at the pet name given and cleared her throat. “Why did you want to see me?”
It was silent between them. Harry should’ve known this question would come up. Truthfully, he didn’t know how to answer it, he was never one to make friends with a random person and go on a little rendezvous late at night. He shrugged at this, “Like I told you, it’s nice to have a friend,”
“That couldn’t be all,” Y/N smiled. “You don’t seem like the kind of person to befriend a bartender and go out with her for a late supper the same night,” Harry blushed at this and scratched the back of his ear with his finger. “I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted to be spontaneous a bit,”
Y/N hummed at this, sipping on her drink. Harry’s eyes were trained on her and she somehow found that a bit intimidating. “I got off work just to clear my mind a bit,” he continued. “Sometimes, I’d go out with my friends, I’d meet some girls and spend the night with them, just to feel something. Just to not be alone,” This was the most Harry had opened up to someone in a while.
“But you still feel alone,” Y/N spoke. Harry frowned at this, not quite sure what she meant. “You could be with someone, and still would feel alone. I get that,” she explained.
Harry’s mouth was agape. “Y-Yeah, I guess,” he mumbled out. “Can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead,”
“You really don’t know me, do you?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. She let out a small laugh. “I knew who you were the moment you stepped foot into that bar,” she said. Harry’s eyes widened. All this time, he was glad he thought Y/N didn’t know him but she treated him like any other normal person. But she knew all along.
“That was.. Surprising,” he chuckled as he ran his hands through his curly locks. “But, you didn’t seem to look like y’know me. Treated me like a normal person,” She stifled a laugh. “Well, would you rather I’d treat you like royalty? Curtsey in front of you?” She joked.
Harry laughed at this. “No, no. It was nice. It’s good t’just pretend your life is normal for once,” he nodded at her. “I’m sure you have some friends that treat you like you are just Harry,” she smiled.
Harry only shrugged at this, “A few of them do. When you’re in the industry long enough, you’d know how to tell apart the few people that are honest and real with you and the many who just use you sometimes.” Y/N frowned at this but nodded. While she couldn’t connect to being in the same industry as him, she knew perfectly how it feels like to be used by people you allowed yourself to get close to.
He brought his cup of tea to his lips, realising how cold it was getting. “You want some?” He offered his drink to her. Y/N nodded, taking the cup from him. “You like tea?” She asked.
“I do, but I prefer coffee,” he smiled at this random conversation. “Please tell me you don’t take your coffee black,” Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, as if she was daring him to admit it. Harry smirked and shrugged at her. “Sorry, love. It’s the best way to have coffee,”
“No, it’s not! It’s so bitter!” Y/N exclaimed and laughed at this. “I don’t think this would work out,” she pouted. Harry swore his heart beated a little faster, seeing her lips pout. He wondered how they’d feel against his. “What wouldn’t work out, love?” He smiled at her.
Y/N blushed at this, looking down at her lap before she looked at him again. “Whatever you want this to be,”
They spent their time getting to know each other and by the time it was midnight, Harry ended up paying for their meals, ignoring her protests as he did. Y/N was tempted to wipe off that smug smile off his face. The December air howled as the night went on as the decorative holiday lights lit up the street they walked on. The two walked side by side, their hands brushing against each other’s. If Harry had the guts, he would intertwine their hands together. But he didn’t. Not yet, at least.
“Random question, but do you prefer sunrises and sunsets?” she asked out of the blue. Harry thought for a moment before answering, “M’not sure, actually. Never really paid attention to them all that much.” Y/N nodded at his answer.
“Sometimes I like to wake up early just to see the sunrise,” Y/N spoke. Harry looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah? You like sunrises?” he asked gently, the cold air making his breath visible to see. “I do. I like sunsets too. But no one ever stops to appreciate the sunrises,” she sighed.
“Maybe it’s because they can’t be bothered to wake up so early,” Harry joked, making her laugh. “Yeah. Well, I do that. My apartment has a nice view of it. It’s nice. The city is just beginning to wake up. The golden glow casted upon it,”
Harry nodded at her. “Is this your way of inviting me over?” He teased. Y/N paused, her cheeks flaming up. It wasn’t her intention, but she might as well have done so. Harry was a nice company to keep and she liked him. She really did like him. “Maybe,” she mumbled.
Harry smiled at her sudden shyness. It was something he liked about her. He really liked her. And he wanted her to take him back to her home, as pathetic as that made him seem.
“Well, lead the way, darlin’,”
Y/N struggled to put her keys into the keyhole of her apartment. Nervous was an understatement for her. She had a really sweet and attractive man waiting behind her and she was about to invite him in. She was almost sweating at the thought and she didn’t know why.
She opened the door, letting the warm air of her small apartment flow through them. Harry found it quite cozy. There were plants placed in different corners of the room, he noticed a record player by the television. There was also an easel standing by it. It was small, unlike his luxurious houses, but homey.
“You paint?” He asked. Y/N blushed at this, she forgot to put away your paint and clean up. In her defense, she didn’t think you would have company tonight. “Yeah, s’just a hobby. And somewhat a side hustle,” she said, taking off her coat and putting in on the couch. Harry did the same, subtly wiping his sweaty palms against his dark jeans.
“Uh, d-do you want something to drink?” she asked nervously. Idiot, you just had drinks. “Or, if y’want, I have some chocolate chip cookies. If you like chocolate chip cookies. I mean, y’don’t have to but-,” Y/N was cut off upon hearing Harry chuckling at her, his expression amused as he listened to her nervous rambling.
“Don’t worry, darlin’. I’m good,” he said, smiling at her. She blushed again at the use of the pet name.
It was silence, the only thing that could be heard was their breathing as they looked at each other. Harry slowly walked over, Y/N’s breath hitched as he did so. She was nervous and she was scared, she hadn’t done this in a long time. His arm settled on her waist and it was the first time he touched her. His eyes, green as ever and filled with lust and passion, were focused on hers. She could feel his breath hitting her face due to the proximity between them.
Y/N gently placed her hands on his chest, feeling it rising up and down as he breathed. His forehead was already pressing against hers, their noses slightly brushing against each other. “Can I kiss you?” Harry finally asked ever so softly. And Y/N couldn’t help but nod her head. “Please,”
His lips crashed into hers, gently at first, but she kissed him harder, making it more passionate. She could hear him moan into the kiss as their tongues battled for dominance. His hands travelled lower to her backside, she moaned aloud as he squeezed them. When they pulled away, they would instantly pull into another kiss again, wanting to be close. Harry lowered his hands further behind her thighs, signaling her to jump so he could hold her tightly against him.
“Y/N, I won’t be able to stop,” he said, gasping for air. Y/N only kissed him again, replying as her lips were against his. “Then, don’t,”
Y/N wasn’t sure how they made it to her room, laying nearly naked on her bed. She just realised how many tattoos he had on his body. She traced over the art scattered over his skin delicately. “Harry,” she whimpered as she felt his hardened length grinding against her core. She could feel her arousal seeping through her underwear. She gasped as he pressed kisses down her neck onto her collarbones, her eyes rolling back when he sucked a sweet spot there. His fingers entangled themselves between hers, squeezing them tightly.
“Harry, please,”
“I got you, baby. Gonna take my time with you,” he said gently as he kissed her forehead.
Y/N could feel her heart beamed at the sweet gesture. She had one-night stands before, but none of them felt as intimate as with Harry. The way he kissed her, held her, it almost felt right. And she wondered if he felt it too.
When they’re fully naked and Harry lined himself against her, he looked at her, as if he was asking if she was still sure of this; if she wanted this; if she wanted him. Her eyes were shining as the moonlight shone through her curtains, her hair sprawled against her pillow. She was beautiful and ethereal. He almost couldn’t believe it.
A nod from her was all it took for him to push himself in, the two moaning in relief as pleasure shot through their bodies. He slowly thrusted, taking his time with her. The feeling of euphoria running through their bodies as they held each other close. Her legs were wrapped around his hips, wanting to keep his warm body close to her. “Harry, faster,” Y/N pleaded.
It was almost like a switch went off his head before Harry spreaded her legs further, thrusting harder and further into her. Moans and groans filled the room and the scent of sex and sweat filled the air. Harry had his head buried into the crook of her neck, breathing hard as he felt the pleasure burning at the bottom of his spine. He was close and he knew she was too from the way she was clenching around him.
“You close, baby?” He breathed out as he looked at her. The bed was creaking with every movement they made. Y/N moaned in ecstasy as she nodded her head, trying to keep her eyes on him. She didn’t want to miss a thing with him.
Harry took her by surprise by pulling out, lifting her up so she sat on his lap. He guided himself into herself, groaning as she welcomed him in her. Y/N moaned loudly as she felt him hit deeper, feeling herself clenching around him. She quickly began to move against him, smiling as she saw Harry shut his eyes in pleasure, murmuring her name. “C-Close, Harry, fuck,” she groaned as she moved faster.
Harry sat up and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer as if it was possible. He thrusted his hips upwards against hers, adding to the euphoric pleasure that was coursing through them. “I know, baby. Fuck, y’feel so good around me,” he moaned out, looking at her with hooded eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck, their heavy breaths hitting each other’s faces.
It was only a glance into his forest green eyes that triggered her high. She moaned out loud, her body shaking against him, and just the sight of her high triggered Harry’s. He groaned against her neck and cursed a string of profanities under his breath as he kept thrusting his hips into her, prolonging his orgasm. When they calmed down from their highs, they took deep breaths before pressing their lips together. Harry could hear a whimper from the beautiful woman above him. He was delirious with the bliss feeling.
They laid on their sides, admiring each other’s glowing yet sweaty state. Harry closed his eyes and sighed as Y/N brushed her fingers through his hair. “Y’alright?” he murmured to her. She nodded and gave him a shy smile. He thought it was cute of her acting all shy after having done such an intimate and dirty activity with him. He kissed the tip of her nose, smiling as she scrunched it up. “You’re beautiful,” he admitted.
Y/N let out a deep breath. There was no denying the attraction she felt for him. The setting was so intimate, far from what she thought it was going to be. She felt herself opening up to him, something she prevented herself from doing for a long time. She was scared of this, but she liked it at the same time.
“Hold me?” she asked and Harry pulled her against his body without a second to waste. Their breathing was the only sound they paid attention to. Y/N nuzzled her face against the crook of his neck, her finger tracing the tattoos on his chest.
“Are you gonna stay?” she asked softly. She was not expecting anything, but she hoped he did stay.
Harry smiled and pulled her closer. “Only if y’want me to,” he said. Y/N returned the smile, tracing out his lips with her finger, feeling how soft they were.
“I’d like that,”
❋
When Harry woke up, he felt an empty cold space beside him. Confused at first, he sat up slowly, wondering where the pretty woman he liked was. He turned his head and there she was, sitting by her window looking out into the early morning. She was sipping on something from her mug and she was wearing his dark blue T-shirt from the night before. She looked absolutely breathtaking.
“You’re up early,” he said, catching her by surprise at the sound of his voice. She smiled at him and made her way to sit on his lap, putting her mug on the bedside table. “You missed the sunrise.” She ran her fingers through his messy bed hair. He sighed, realising how much he liked her doing that simple yet intimate gesture. “Yeah? Was it pretty?”
“Very,” she sighed as Harry laid his head on his shoulder. He held her tightly in his arms, similar to how he did when they slept. “Well, you’re prettier,” he said, planting kisses up her neck. She realised how deep and raspy his voice sounded in the morning, it sent shivers down her spine. “Well, you’re a charmer,” she murmured.
Harry looked up at her, taking in her morning glow that she was emitting. “Your eyes are really pretty,” Y/N said softly as she admired his forest green eyes. “Yeah? Y’think so?” he said, playfully fluttering his eyes at her. She laughed at this, throwing her head back. Harry thought it was the sweetest sound. She traced the outline of his lips with her index finger, feeling how soft they were under her touch. Harry kept his mouth agape as she did so.
“Can I kiss you?” Y/N whispered. He smiled at her, remembering his exact words from the night before, before nodding. “Please,”
The fluttering in his stomach intensified as their lips met. The thing that clouded Harry’s mind was how soft her lips were and how sweet they tasted. Their kiss almost made him feel dizzy for how much passion there was. When they pulled away, he looked at Y/N with hooded eyes, his breathing was heavy from the blissful sensation he felt. He gently wrapped his arms around her frame and it just felt right.
He pulled her into another kiss, a moan elicited from Y/N that sent blood rushing to his lower region. His hands travelled up his shirt she was wearing and he let out a groan, realising she had nothing underneath it. He felt drunk by her touch, her scent; everything. It was a delicate feeling he felt and he didn’t want to let go of it. He could get used to this, the feeling of her. For once in a long while, he didn’t feel alone anymore.
It was no doubt that Y/N felt the same.
It all just felt right.
❋
The snow was covering the backyard, the trees and bushes were covered in white. Y/N watched as the snow fell while sipping on her hot chocolate. The house was decorated for the special wintery day. The tree was lit up and decorated with many ornaments as well as pictures on it, the presents laying closely below it.
Voices snapped her out of her thoughts, she smiled as she heard footsteps approaching the kitchen. She turned around to see her husband holding up a sleepy little girl in his large muscular arms, the little girl they were blessed with as their daughter. Harry was talking animatedly to Ruby, trying to wake her up in the Christmas spirit.
He gasped and pointed his finger at you. “Look, Rue! It’s mummy! An early bird, isn’t she?” He said to Ruby as he bounced her gently in his arms. You rolled your eyes at his silliness. “Mama,” the little girl reached out to her mother as she rubbed her sleepy eyes. Y/N set her mug on the counter and grabbed lifted little Ruby in her arms. “Morning, Rue baby,” Y/N cooed softly at her, closing her mouth with the back of her hand when she yawned.
“Think she’s a bit tired,” Harry chuckled at them. “Y’think? Who’s the idiot that woke her up early?” Y/N asked sarcastically at her husband. He only lifted his arms up in defense, a smug smile painted on his face. Ruby quietly giggled at her parents. He sipped on a mug of hot chocolate and she narrowed her eyes at her as he leaned back on the counter.
“Are you really drinking my hot chocolate?” Harry paused for a bit before swallowing the warm drink. “I’ll make ya another one, love,” he rubbed the back of his neck. Y/N rolled her eyes at him before chuckling. “You better, Styles.” She felt Ruby shifting in her arms and gently bounced her. “Y’alright, bubs?” She pouted at her daughter.
“Snow,” she said, pointing out the window where the snow was falling. “Yeah, bubs! It’s snowing!” Y/N exclaimed excitedly to her, making Ruby giggle. “Dada, snow!” she exclaimed to her father.
Harry laughed at his daughter’s adorableness. “That’s right, Rue!” He agreed, stroking through her curly hair that she inherited from him. He placed a hand gently on Y/N’s clothed stomach. “And how’s bub number 2 doing?” He asked softly. Y/N smiled, her heart beaming at the gentleness of her husband. “They’re doing great in there,” she said, placing her hand over his above her two-month growing belly.
Harry beamed at this, pressing a gentle kiss on her lips, eliciting a small whimper from her.
“I love you,” he whispered against her lips. Even after all these years, she found his green eyes just as beautiful and hypnotizing.
“I love you, too,” she said and smiled at him as they broke away.
Perhaps, Harry would consider himself lucky that his sad lonely self walked into the bar she previously worked at five years ago. Maybe if he hadn’t opened up to Y/N or went back to her apartment, he wouldn’t be able to have this little family he was blessed with. There was something so delicate and real he felt that night that he wanted to keep. So naturally, they both let their walls down and took a chance on each other. And perhaps because it was nearing Christmas that night, he would think of it as some Christmas miracle.
“Wanna open the presents, Rue?” Y/N asked Ruby as bounced her in her arms. Ruby giggled, not even understanding what her mother said, and nodded. “Yeah? Wanna open presents with mummy and daddy?” Y/N said excitedly as she carried her into the living room. Harry chuckled at the precious sight of them as he followed them.
As they sat down in the living room, he took a moment to just admire his wife and his daughter. Y/N, though wearing one of his Christmas sweaters and sleep shorts, looked just as beautiful and ethereal as she did the night they met. She held little Ruby in her arms, who was busy tearing up the small present in front of her. His wife cheered at their daughter as she took out a little stuffed teddy bear, giggling as she waved it around with her small hands.
Y/N looked up at him and gave him a loving smile as she intertwined her fingers with him. Despite them being in such cold weather, her hands felt warm against his. He admired how they fit perfectly in his. Ruby babbled incoherently to her parents about her gift, in which they nodded like they understood what she said. Harry’s heart warmed up just thinking of how they’ll have another addition to their loving little family soon.
His heart was full of love and happiness. He no longer felt alone. He had everything he wanted in that moment, his growing little family.
Everything was just right.
#harry styles#harry styles x reader#harry styles imagine#harry styles imagines#harry styles fluff#harry styles smut#harry styles fic#parkersroses writing#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles writing
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Hello everyone, I'm back! Thank you so much for your support. It’s been unreal.
There's a longer update on the GoFundMe, but if you’ve read my old pinned post, there have been a lot of twists and turns since then. Being poor is hard and unpredictable.
[Image: 30-day notice to pay rent or quit. Will transcribe in a reblog.]
As we knew was coming, O has been given 30 days’ notice to pay off part of an outstanding rent bill. This letter arrived on February 25th—30 days after that is March 27th.
I first just want to express how much this fundraiser has meant in his life so far. When expenses just kept f#%&ing growing, it kept his lights on, secured COVID-safe transportation to work when he was out of a ride (O has asthma and has had COVID once before, this is critical), and kept food in his fridge. We don’t even know how that would have been there without the fundraiser. It’s been incredible.
Whether you reblogged any of the previous posts, donated yourself, or shared the fundraiser with anyone you know/on social media, thank you.
The amount that’s still due, at this 30 day deadline, is about $3000. For March, he’s in a good enough place (I cannot thank you enough) that everything raised in these next 23 days goes to rent.
For those of you new to this story, O’s workplace shut down for two weeks. He got sick from the exposure that shut it down, and had to stay home another three weeks. When he wasn’t working—staying home to protect people, in the same workplace that required him to stay home—he wasn’t being paid.
(Since then, there’s been an additional week stuck at home with a fever.) His landlord knows the problem, but it’s no longer illegal to evict him for it, so here we are.
I’ll keep you updated. Thank you so much for reading, everyone—I am astonished and amazed at how much the community has kept him afloat so far! He’s getting back on his feet.
It’s a tall, tall ask, and nearly everyone is struggling right now. Hell, later this week you’ll see me share a fundraiser for two of my partners’ friends. We are not after money that you need—part of mutual aid is that sometimes you’re able to give it, and sometimes you’re the one who needs to receive it. Sometimes, you’re in the strange middling space, where you’re just personally barely afloat. We know this. Let me know how to support you too.
March 4th, 2021:
$190/3000
P.S.—GoFundMe fees come out to ~$177. I’m not counting that $177 into this post, because you know what, I’ll make sure we raise it, and I’ll lend it to him if I’ve gotta. That’s something I can do.
My final note to you:
Thank you very much. Take care out there. You’re doing enough.
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The View From Both Sides of The Mirror
Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader
Word Count: 23.5k
Summary: Who would have thought that being stuck on a boat with your worst enemy would be a good thing?
Warning(s): Cursing, some mentions of yachtrry, Harry being a softie, Harry also being a dick, reader being down on herself
A/N: So this is my submission for @stylesharrys 10k follower celebration! I chose the picture above, the trope enemies to lovers, prompt “That’s not what I meant, I swear. I know I can be an asshole but I'm not that heartless.”
I’ve been working on this for quite a while and I really debated deleting the entire thing a few times, but here she is, all finished and ready to be enjoyed!!
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As always, if you enjoy this piece, reblog to share with your friends :))
*
Harry Styles is a lot of things. Annoying, over the top, self obsessed, judgmental, self indulgent, careless, overly flamboyant, rude, narcissistic. He’s a lot of things, but perfect is not one of them.
The media continuously had a lot of ridiculous ideas about him, most of which were laughable. You’d often scroll through your social media and snort at the things that people would post about him. You had seen some things that were quite funny, but nothing compared to the article that your best friend, Lexi, had shown you. You full body cackled after reading the title, and who could blame you? “The Perfect Man the World Didn’t Know It Was Missing” was top tier comedy.
There were a plethora of things wrong with the title that the up and coming news station had so foolishly chosen.
The most obvious of which being the fact that he was literally 26, and he’s been in the spotlight for over ten years. The world hadn’t been missing him at all. He’s been shoved in everyone’s face for over a decade and they find a new reason to act like he’s the best thing that ever happened to the universe. They over exaggerate everything, make it seem like he was either born an hour ago or just discovered yesterday. Which was definitely not the case, as you had been told numerous times by the man himself.
The second being that they all acted like they knew him when really they had absolutely no idea who he is. The ones that covered the stories acted like they knew him as well as his childhood best friend when really they had taken a statement, at most. They had no clue who he actually was. They couldn’t tell you his favorite number, or how he fixes his toast. They don’t know the reason why he no longer wears skinny jeans. They don’t know why he’s so open with who he is and how he presents himself. None of them know anything about any of that, and it’s more bothersome than you’d like to admit. But it’s not just the people that praise him that rub you the wrong way. No, it’s even the ones that say bad things about him, that claim that he’s Satan's spawn. It was still exasperating to hear them say things about him. They acted like they knew him well enough to hate him, to paint him as the villain in their article.
Yeah, sure, you and Harry didn’t get along, but at least you had a reason. Most of the people that didn’t like him were just upset because basically everyone wanted something to do with him, and they were all mad because he was seemingly perfect. He never lost his temper (he definitely did, just not in public), he was nice to everyone (yeah, besides you), and he would never turn down a picture with a fan if it was safe to do so and he had time (that one was true. The one part of him that you don’t absolutely hate is the love that he has for his fans. He’d be nowhere without them, and he realizes that. And, although he’s not appreciative of a lot of things, he is of them).
And the final thing about the article, the one that irked your nerves the most, was that they were yet another news group to paint the picture that he was perfect, that he was the golden boy. That he had never once done something that could be seen as wrong. Which, yet again, goes to show that they don’t really know anything about him, at least not personally.
Sure, Harry Styles came off as perfect. He had to. He’s in the public eye, spotted everywhere that he goes by at least one person. He had been coached from the ripe old age of 16 to come across in that way. In his career, there has never been any room for error. One mistake could have brought down everything that the managers of One Direction were trying to accomplish.
He was conditioned into media perfection long ago. He had been told how to speak, how to act, what to wear, what to sing. Anything that could possibly cause an upset in the fandom was immediately changed, edited to make it look better. He was shaped into the boy that the world had come to love.
But Harry, the guy that you spent the majority of your waking hours with, due to the numerous mutual friends that you had, was annoying at best. Most of the time, though, he was a complete prick.
There was nothing about the man he was behind closed doors that was perfect. He was utterly and completely himself. Most people would think that’s a good thing, him being comfortable enough to himself to the fullest extent. But you? You absolutely hated those times. He was much easier to deal with when you were out in public, when he was too worried about keeping up appearances to do anything particularly shitty.
The two of you had never gotten along. From the very moment that the two of you had met, there was a tension. It was like there was an immediate distaste for one another. All of your friends could tell that the two of you would never get along, but they tried to force it anyway.
That night, he had seemed completely uninterested, like he’d rather be at some party that only had A-List celebrities on the guest list than there meeting you. At first, you had been hurt. But then you came to accept it. Came to accept the fact that you just weren’t good enough for him. You weren’t like the rest of your friends. All you did was work in photography, and you weren’t even one of the well off photographers. Sure, you didn’t struggle, but you weren’t on the same level as the rest of the people that you had formed friendships with.
Your mutual friends had tried their best to ease the tension between the two of you. They had done everything in their power to force the friendship. You had to give them props, they pulled all the stops, but there was nothing that anyone could do that would make you not loathe the mere thought of him. Maybe it was the fact that he made you doubt who you were. Maybe it was the fact that he gave off the asshole vibe. Or maybe, it was just because he seemed to not like you, but from that day forward, you weren’t on good terms with him.
Things had gotten so bad with Harry that you had even tried to find a new group of friends. You were tired of feeling like you were the odd man out, feeling like you had ruined every outing because you couldn’t just suck it up and get along with him. There had come a time when you didn’t even feel like you had belonged. All of the people that you had surrounded yourself with were extremely successful. Most of them were CEOs of something. But when Harry had met them, he had introduced the singers, writers, and musicians into the group. You weren’t any of those things. Sure, a lot of people saw you as an artist, but you could barely be seen as anything compared to the others, and that haunted you until you began to believe that your occupation as a photographer wasn’t valid.
So, you searched for new friends. You tried to find people that would make you feel like you belonged, like you were their equal. You just wanted some people that you could relate to. You hadn’t felt that in way too long, and being around Harry and his super successful, extremely famous friends wasn’t helping any.
You tried for a few weeks before realizing that it was pointless. He found a way to weasel himself into that aspect of your life as well.
Every single time you met someone new, the same thing happened. You’d talk to them for a few minutes, get to know each other a little. But each time, without fail, they’d ask “Hey, aren’t you that chick that’s friends with Harry Styles?” And each time, you’d immediately walk away, never looking back.
Nobody cared about making friends with you, they just wanted to have a way to Harry. Every cell in your body was filled with regret. You had made the decision to openly be in the same friend group as him. You hadn’t taken into consideration that once you were spotted with him repeatedly, your life would never be the same.
It left you wanting to rip your hair out. Or at least go back in time so that you never had to meet him, never had to be in public with him. It sucked that no matter how hard you tried, he wouldn’t stay out of your life. He was present even when he physically wasn’t, and it was aggravating beyond belief.
It was safe to say that you hate Harry Styles.
It was also safe to say that Harry Styles hates you.
You were so uptight, always sticking up your nose at everything that he did. You had done it since the moment that you had met him and it seemed as if you had never stopped.
You had given him a look that could only be described as one filled with disdain the moment that you met him, and from that moment on he had tried his best to distance himself from you. With the both of you running in the same circle, though, that was pretty hard.
So, he had just tried his best to ignore you. That didn’t work very well either, seeing as you always had a reaction to everything that he did. And none of those reactions were ever positive.
You acted like there was something wrong with him spending the money that he earned. It got on his nerves more than just about anything. What was he supposed to do with it? Was he just supposed to let it sit in his bank account for the rest of his life? He donates a large chunk of everything that he earns every year, it wasn’t like he was just blowing his money on meaningless things. He had his priorities straight.
He had come to despise nights out, knowing that you would be there. You always had something to say. Or not say, rather. You’d never tell him that it was exactly that made you so upset with him. Every time you would send him a look, he’d ask why, but you’d simply turn on your heel or slip out of the booth, heading to the dance floor to be as far away from him as possible.
He was a simple man, really. He just wanted to go out with his friends, buy something strong off the top shelf, and drink until he was in the cuddly mood that his mind automatically switched into when there was enough alcohol running through his veins.
But with you there? Oh, he couldn’t do that. God forbid he buys something expensive like that. God forbid that he spend his money on what he wanted to. Every time he’d order his drink, you’d curl your nose up, as if you were completely disgusted by his choice. And every time that he would get overly touchy and want to cuddle someone, he would automatically seek you out. He didn’t know why, and he despised his brain for thinking of no one else but you.
He knew that the fact that he never chose someone else to agitate probably made you hate him even more than you already did, and he went home every weekend feeling awful about it. He never meant to annoy you. Sure, he hated you, couldn’t stand the way you acted like you were better than him, like you were higher up than him even though he saw the two of you as equals, but he never meant to purposefully get on your nerves. He never went out of his way to cause you to hate him even more.
However, that didn’t stop you from thinking that he did. Didn’t stop you from thinking that he’d do anything in his power to pester you. It didn’t stop you from hating him more and more every day.
*
When your friends had called you and told you that they wanted to go on vacation, you were excited. You could use a break, a bit of time to forget about all the stress and just relax on a boat with your friends. Plus, you had never been to Brighton, so there was no way you were going to say no to that experience.
However, the initial glory of the idea wore off the moment that you realize Harry’s the only one with any kind of boat. Which means in order to have the relaxing getaway that you want, you'll have to deal with him for at least a few hours every day, if not every moment that the sun is up. If you’re completely honest, you don’t even understand how he’s going to get the yacht to Brighton when it’s kept in the States. You didn’t question it, though, because that’s the reason that Lexi gave you. Which means that has to be the reason that he has to go.
To top it off, it won’t even be like it normally is. If he gets you worked up enough, you can’t even just walk away and leave, you’ll be stuck on his boat in the middle of a body of water, with no way to swim to land without risking something bad happening.
You had already paid the deposit for the house, but you were fully willing to let someone else take your place on the trip. Were fully willing to give up the vacation because there’s no way in the world that you could spend an entire week with Harry without something terrible happening. Plus, there was only room for four people and there were many more than just that in your friend group. They could easily find a replacement.
When you had called back to tell Lexi and Sam that you weren’t going to be attending, they all but guilt tripped you into coming along, saying that they had invited you for a reason and that they would be really bummed out if you decided to stay behind and give someone your spot.They also gave you the look, the one they always hit you with when you back out of something just because of Harry.
You felt bad, always ruining plans because you were in a constant argument with him, so you tried to put your pride to the side for a moment and at least listen to what they had to say.
Against your better judgement, you agree to go, but only because you would have your own room with a private bathroom attached, and your friends confirmed that they wouldn't say anything about you hiding away from Harry if he got to be too much. They also assured you that you and Harry would be separated for the majority of the trip.
They knew that the both of you need a vacation, but neither of you can stand the other, so they promised that you would have an adequate amount of alone time to have the relaxation that vacations are supposed to bring.
After doing your shoot that night, you go home and pack the suitcases you'll need for the week that the four of you plan on staying there. You don’t pack much, just a single suitcase and a carry on. You check to make sure that you have your passport and that it’s valid, and that you have all the items from around the house that you’ll need.
Once everything is settled and put together, you flop down on your bed, switching on a random Netflix show that you’d been obsessed with lately and allowing yourself to drift off to sleep..
*
You’ll never know how your friends had let them talk you into letting them plan the entire trip. The only thing that you were told was how much your portion of the bills were and when they were due. It has annoyed you to no end, seeing that you are the type of person that likes to know every detail of what’s going on. You had been on more than enough trips that had absolutely everything that could go wrong do exactly that, leading to ruined trip after ruined trip, that you’d rather know all the plans, maybe even make a list or two so that there are no missteps or slip ups when it comes to the actual vacation.
You texted Lexi a few hours before you had to leave to board the flight to ask if you could scan over the plans and the details of the trip, not to change anything, just to double check. Of course, she said no immediately, not understanding that you just wanted to look over it and make sure that everything was in order to calm your nerves. You didn’t want to explain this to her, though, knowing that she would begin to feel guilty for not letting you see it immediately, and that’s not what you wanted to happen.
If you had talked to her and she had actually allowed you to check literally anything for the trip, though, the first thing you would have ensured was that you wouldn’t be stuck on a plane right next to Harry for hours. You’ll never understand how she could put you in this situation, making you sit next to the most loathsome person in this world, who she knows that you can’t even be in the same room as for more than a few hours.
By the time the situation registers in your mind, however, he’s already loaded his carry on and sat down in the seat. Which means that it's definitely too late to do anything about it. Yeah, you’d rather not sit next to him for hours on end, but you’re definitely not going to cause a scene on an airplane full of people. Especially not when half of them already have their phones out, trying to discreetly take pictures of Harry.
Besides, the flight attendant is already coming around checking belts and the pilot is introducing himself and spouting out information that seemingly no one is paying attention to. This flight will be over in no time. At least that’s what you tell yourself to get through the next ten hours.
You groan, rolling your eyes at the irony of the situation. Of course something like this would happen. You had only agreed to a vacation because you needed relaxation. You needed a break from all the stress. But here you were, stuck right next to one of the biggest stress inducers in your life. Yeah, Lexi had promised you that you’d have plenty of time away from Harry at the rental house, but you were definitely making up for all the time that would be lost right now.
If you didn’t know better, you would think that Lexi and Sam were plotting against you. But that’s crazy, right? They wouldn’t do something like this on purpose, would they?
You lightly shake your head, pushing the thought from your mind. They wouldn’t do that.
You pull out your phone, queuing up the playlists you had downloaded prior to boarding. You knew that you’d want to shut yourself off from the world for the duration of the trip there, so you prepared accordingly.
You take one final glance around the cabin, seeing that everyone else has begun settling in and nobody else is announcing something important. You slip your headphones in your ears, ready to relax as much as possible throughout the flight. You know that the only way to completely avoid being pestered by Harry is to completely block him out.
The first song that comes on makes you want to laugh. You obviously don’t do such a thing, knowing that the outburst would cause every single person on the plane to look at you like you’re crazy.
You couldn’t catch a break today. Of course one of his songs would be playing in your ears while your face was less than a foot from his. Of course it would actually be one of your favorites. You had never once in your life pressed the skip button on this song, but knowing that he’s as close to you as he is, you’re hesitant to even listen to the opening chords of the song.
“Carolina” blared through your headphones for a split second before you made up your mind and hit skip. You couldn’t risk being caught by him. There’s no way you would survive this if he found out that you listened to his music, especially since you have it saved to your playlist. There’s no way that you’d be able to play that off as you simply listening to it so that you could make fun of him for it later (which you wouldn’t do in general, you know how important his music is for him, and you’d never dampen the light that appears in his eyes when he talks about it. You’re not that cruel.).
It was quite frustrating, really. His music is fantastic, a perfect blend of the basic attributes that hook audiences that hear songs on the radio and a uniqueness that you can’t find anywhere else. His music was absolutely amazing, but the man that sang it… he was a different story.
You didn’t like to judge his tracks based on how fond of him you were when you first heard them. If you did that, you’d never listen to them in general.
You’d never admit it to him, but every song of his, even the covers, was scattered throughout your playlists. And every once in a while, when nobody was around, you would listen to them and genuinely enjoy them. Sometimes you’d even dance along, and that’s a secret that you’ll take to the grave.
You wanted to drift off to sleep, but didn’t want to risk him hearing if one of his songs came on. Lord knows that he doesn’t need the ego boost. So, you turned the volume down until you were confident that nobody else could hear it. You lean your head back against the rest and let your eyes slip shut, finding sleep in seconds.
*
What seems like moments later, you’re being awoken by someone. You think that maybe it’s Lexi at first, but then you feel them, the rings that he never seems to take off. You jerk your body away from him, not wanting his hands to be on you.
“Hey, it’s time to wake up. We’ve landed.” You open your eyes and glare at him, taking your headphones out. You can tell that he’s holding in a laugh and it makes you want to punch him right in the jaw. You choose not to do such a thing, however, because you’d rather not cause a scene on an airplane. So, you settle for flipping him off.
He chuckles before mimicking your action. You roll your eyes, standing up from the seat and grabbing your carry on. Harry steps back, letting you walk ahead of him. You think nothing of it until he pushes at the back of your knee, almost making you fall to the ground. What is he? A middle schooler?
You can already tell that this is going to be a long trip, regardless of what Lexi and Sam had assured you. So far, what they had said had turned out to mean absolutely nothing to you. Not for the first time since you woke up this morning, you find yourself wishing that you hadn’t given in. That you had just said no and not let them talk you into it.
You walk with a bit more speed after you step off of the airplane, trying to get as far away from him as possible. You don’t want to have to add falling over in the middle of the airport to the list of reasons why you despise flying. You had only agreed to get on the plane this time because it was absolutely necessary in getting to Brighton.
You meet up with Sam and Lexi by the luggage pick up and all of you wait for your bags. You put all your effort into ignoring Harry, only looking in his direction or humming an approval when the conversation called for it.
“Alright, well. We need to get to the car rental service and then I have to go rent the yacht.” Harry says, making you snap your head up, looking straight at him. After a second, you turn to Lexi and Sam, looking between the two.
“Oh, no, no, no. Tell me you’re fucking joking.” You spit. “Harry just had to come, huh? And you wouldn’t let me back out? Harry’s the only one with a yacht? Yeah, he’s the only one with a yacht but he’s fucking renting one.” You can’t believe this. “Look, if I had known that me being stuck in a foreign country with him wasn’t completely necessary, I would have given someone else this vacation in a heartbeat.”
“Y/N come on…” Sam starts, but you cut him off.
“What, Sam? Want me to hold my tongue yet again so I don’t hurt Harry’s feelings?” You scoff. Why did they care about his feelings when he had never once taken yours into consideration? “Well, you know what? Fuck Harry’s feelings. He’s rude to me for absolutely no goddamn reason and I’m tired of it. I wanted to come on this god forsaken trip so that I could relax. Both of you,” you point back and forth between Sam and Lexi, “promised me that I would get to relax, that I would only be around Harry on the boat. But it seems like your word is bullshit, doesn’t it?”
Your luggage rolls around and you yank it off the conveyor. “Let’s go get the stupid ass cars. And Harry?” You turn to him, pointing your finger at him and tapping his chest. You ignore the way that the contact sends shivers up and down your spine. “Don’t you dare fucking say a word to me on the way there. Don’t touch me, for any reason. You know what? Just don’t even look at me. That should make everything a little more bearable, got that?”
He nods, and with that, you walk towards the exit of the airport, knowing that there was no way you could continue that argument without bursting into tears. You weren’t upset in that way, you just had the habit to start crying when you were pissed off at someone to this point. They had really lied to your face. You know Lexi though, she’ll use the fact that she ‘technically didn’t lie because Harry is the only one with a yacht.’
You wait outside, knowing that they have the address to the car rental place, and there’s no way that you want to get lost here. You don’t look at any of them once they come out the doors, and they don’t make any effort to talk to you.
The entire walk to the shop, you stay a few feet behind them, not wanting to be too close to any of them. It’s not even so much so that you were mad anymore, that had subsided. You were hurt. The fact that they lied to you? That was something that all of you had promised to never do to one another, even you and Harry. And what hurt even worse was the fact that the people that did lie to you weren’t who you expected to ever lie to you. If anyone was going to do something like that, you expected that it would have been Harry that did it, not them. It probably wouldn’t have hurt as much if it had been Harry, but only because you had mentally prepared yourself for him to betray you, had kept your walls up against him since the moment that he showed you who he was around you.
The walk to the rental store was a short one, leaving you barely any time alone with your thoughts, which you were completely fine with. You didn’t really want to be in your head right now.
Lexi walks in, leaving the three of you outside. She comes out a moment later with two sets of keys. “Alright, who’s riding with who?”
“I’ll ride with Sam, give Y/N some time away from me.” If he hadn’t said it with the hint of sarcasm that he did, his words could have been mistaken for sweetness. But you know how he is. He makes everyone else think that he’s such a sweetheart when really he’s a prick.
*
The house is nice. Really nice, actually. The moment you walk in, you’re met with the high ceilings of the entryway. You must admit that Lexi and Sam did a great job on picking the house that you’d be staying in for the week. You walk through the entryway and see a kitchen off to the side, it’s really modern, looks like it was just redone. There’s a sitting room directly adjacent to where you’re standing. And you can see multiple doors and a hallway that leads to other rooms, which you assume are bedrooms and the half bath that would be used for guests.
You immediately go to pick a room, knowing that nobody else really plans on being in their rooms at all, so it’s not like they’ll mind. You venture down the hallway and see a few art pieces. You smile to yourself. The house is really cute. You wouldn’t mind living somewhere like this when you find someone and settle down.
You look through all the rooms before choosing the one at the very end of the hallway. There’s a large four poster bed sitting in the middle of the room. There’s a bookshelf to the right of the bed and a nightstand with a cute little lamp on it to the left. Upon walking further into the room and scanning the entirety of it, you see that there’s a dresser against the wall opposite the bed. There’s a tv sat upon the dresser. To the right of that, there’s a door that leads to the bathroom.
Even if Harry does get on your nerves during this trip, you can always come in here and escape from it all. You smile at the thought. That was truly the first thing that had been seen as a positive since you had left your house that morning.
Since it was already pretty late, you decided to hop in the shower. Grabbing your clothes for the night and walking into the bathroom. As soon as the door is closed, you begin peeling off your clothes. Just doing that puts you in a better mood, you had been wearing those clothes for far too long. They probably didn’t smell the best, having sat on your body for an entire plane ride.
You fiddle with the temperature settings on the shower for a moment before stepping in. The moment that the hot water hits your skin, you let out a sigh of relief. You can feel the muscles that had tensed up throughout the day start to relax.
After spending what feels like an adequate amount of time in the shower, you towel off and get dressed, making your way to the bed. You crawl under the plush comforter and immediately feel the exhaustion rack your body. You turn off the lamp and roll onto your stomach, letting sleep pull you into the blissful state where nothing bothers you
*
Lexi busted into your room early the next morning, shaking you awake until you turned to face her.
“Do you need Sam and me to get you anything from the store?” She chirped, far too giddy for any normal person to be this early in the morning.
That makes sense, though, because Lexi is far from normal. She has this electric personality, usually bringing out the absolute best in everybody.
She has been your best friend since high school. She took you under her wing during your sophomore year, her junior year.
Since then, you have been through a lot together. Crushes, relationships, heartbreaks, you and her yelling at the guy or girl that broke the other’s heart. You helped each other pick up the pieces when nobody else was there to help do so.
You had been through dozens of friendships since sophomore year, but the only one that has been a constant is her.
Sure, the both of you had changed. But you had changed together and supported one another through every decision.
You had seen her cycle through different haircuts - she had chopped off her brown curls during her senior year and instantly hated them, choosing to let them grow back out to their rightful place, right below her shoulders - and hair colors - when she cut her hair, she also dyed it a bright red, which you’re still convinced is the real reason she hated the length of it as well. You had also experienced her ever changing sense of style, which was actually a plus for you most times, because when she changed her taste and cleaned out her closet, she’d give you all of the clothes that no longer satisfied her, leaving you with a new wardrobe at least once a year.
And she had been there for you too, sticking with you through your ‘whore phase.’ Which really just consisted of you dating the ‘hottest guy in school’ - he wasn’t really that hot - and then rumors spread the next year that you were messing around with the ‘hottest girl in school’ - that one was the one that got you the label, all the guys being mad that they couldn’t get with her, seeing as she was strictly into girls.
Lexi had also dealt with your late night calls, riddled with anxiety, not knowing what it is that you could possibly do with your future. She had calmed you down multiple times, talking through options with you. She was the reason that you came to realize that you wanted to be in the fashion industry in some way.
She had already known what she wanted to do, had been aware of her dreams since before she even made it into high school. She used to tell you all the time, “Y/N, one of these days, I’m going to own a Fortune 500 company.” And that’s exactly what she had done.
Which is the only reason that you got to be friends with all the people that you do. She’s also the one who introduced you to Harry, starting the rivalry between the two of you.
“No, I’m fine.” You groaned, rolling back over.
“Alright, sleepy head.” She chuckled, walking back out of your room and latching the door.
Once she’s gone, you reach over and grab your phone, checking the time. Seven A.M. You groan. Was she crazy?
You’re definitely not pleased that you’re up this early. However, you decided to go ahead and stay up. Your alarm would be going off in two hours, and you know that you’ll be grumpy if you go back to sleep just to wake up then.
You pull yourself out of bed, trudging to the bathroom. You run through all the steps of your morning routine and emerge from the bathroom, ready to take on the day.
Your way of taking on the day is going to be picking a book from the bookshelf and laying in bed until around ten, when you’re scheduled to go out to the water for the day.
*
It’s almost ten when you get the text from Sam.
We’re running late, you and H go ahead and get on the water, we’ll rent jet skis to get out there. X
You roll your eyes, of course they’d be late. And of course they’d leave you to fend for yourself with Harry.
You quickly get dressed in your dark blue bikini, the one that accentuates all your curves perfectly. You then throw an oversized band tee over your head, making sure that you’re covered enough before walking out and making sure that Harry's ready and has everything that he’ll need for the day. You’re really not in the mood to have him forget something and have to come all the way back to the house.
When you reach the living room, he’s already by the door, dressed in a pair of yellow swimming trunks and a cream colored tee. He has the yacht keys in hand, along with his phone. He already has the cooler and the bag Lexi had packed with supplies for the day (sunscreen, portable chargers, etc.).
You just stand there for a moment, looking him over, trying to ignore the feeling that you got in your stomach. You couldn’t place exactly what it was, but it had to be one of disgust, right? You couldn’t stand being around him, he was unnecessarily rude to you and you can’t tolerate him. That feeling couldn’t be anything good, it had to be disgust, or maybe it was resentment. Either way, it stopped you in your tracks.
“You coming or what, loser? It’s enough that it’s just us, do I need to hold your hand too?” He smirks.
You push down the rising feeling in your chest, and push past him, walking over to the passenger side of the suv that he had rented for the week.
He takes his sweet time strolling over, popping the trunk and placing the bag and cooler in before slamming it shut again. He unlocks the doors and you slide in, buckling your seat. You refuse to look at him, knowing that if you make eye contact with him, he’ll be more inclined to say something dickish to you.
The ride to the water is mostly quiet, the only sound in the car being the music from the radio. Some top 40s song that you haven't heard yet was filling the air, causing the silence between you and Harry to be slightly less awkward.
“What’re you gonna do when we get there?” He asks. You’re taken aback for a moment. Why was he even talking to you, let alone asking what your plans were for the day? Why was he being weird? “Because, honestly, you should probably tan, you look like a ghost.” There it is, the snide remark that was missing.
You scoff. “Harry, maybe don’t check me out every two seconds and you won’t notice.” You joke, knowing that he’s the last person on the planet that would ever check you out.
You expect him to hurl an insult back at you, tell you that he’d never check out someone as ugly as you, or tell you that he was only scanning to see what he could make fun of, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t say a word, and when you turn to him, you see that the tips of his ears are red and there’s a blush creeping up his neck. Was it really that embarrassing to be accused of checking you out?
You don’t push him, thankful for the returning silence. It only takes a few more moments to get to the docks anyway, so it’s not like the silence is stretched out for too long.
You grab the cooler and the bag this time, knowing that he’ll have to drive the yacht, and you don’t feel like hearing about how lazy you are because you didn’t do enough.
The walk to the boat is silent and filled with tension. It’s like both of you want to say something, are dying to talk to the other, but you won’t. You don’t want to talk to him, you just want to talk to someone. It’s not the same.
Once Harry gets everything ready, you climb onto the boat, setting everything down and pulling out the sunglasses that you had decided to bring at the last moment.
“So, where do you think we should go?” You ask, knowing that he’s been here before. He’ll know how far out you can go while still being able to anchor the yacht.
“Out on the water, duh.” His words are laced with sarcasm and it makes you want to throw him overboard. Too bad he’s the only person on this vacation that’s ever had enough down time to actually learn how to handle one of these things.
“You know what the fuck I meant, stop being an idiot.” You spit, hating how easily he got a rise out of you.
He chuckles before waving you off with a, “I know what I’m doing, darling, don’t worry about it.”
He seems to catch what he says as soon as it slips out of his mouth, his eyes widening and the blush coming back to his features. You choose to ignore it. You’d rather just go up to the deck and tan.
For a split second, you debate on whether or not you should lay out, knowing that he would think you were doing it because of the comment that he made. But then you realize that you don’t actually give a fuck about what he has to say or what he thinks with his final two brain cells.
So, you head up to the upper deck, stripping yourself of your shirt and laying out a towel for you to rest on.
You stay in that position, only moving to flip over so that each side gets an even amount of sun, until you hear jet skis approaching.
You push yourself up, wandering down to where Harry has set up his towel. Apparently he decided to sunbathe as well. It’s not like he needed it though, he has a tan that any woman would absolutely die for.
You quickly give him a once over, halting when you realize that he’s put a stupid hat on his head. And not even just that, he has it on backwards. What was he trying to do, absolutely kill you?
Here’s the thing, you hate Harry, sure. But you aren’t blind. You can see how attractive he is, how his tattoos run over his tanned skin, making you want to trace each detail with the tip of your finger, or more honestly, your tongue. His muscles always accentuate everything that he wears, regardless of whether it’s one of the custom Gucci suits or a random Nike tank that he threw on to go on a run. His face is damn near perfect, so much so that it makes you want to throw up. His cheekbones are high, jawline sharp. He was blessed with the dimples, which are only made even better by his eye crinkles. And God, his hands. His hands that are constantly adorned with rings, all of which could probably pay your rent for at least a year.
It’s really not fair. In all honesty, him being as completely flawless his physical attributes seem to be is absolutely not fair. You used to scoff at the fact that people were blessed with good looks. It was all genes, right? Wrong. Sure, Anne’s gorgeous and you’re sure that Desmond had to have had something going for him when Anne met him, but Harry? He came out to be a whole lot more attractive than anyone you had ever seen. And just to add on to everything, he was the person that you hated the most in the world.
You’re broken out of your thoughts by Lexi pulling up to the side of the boat and climbing in. She doesn’t even look at you, just walks farther into the yacht. You don’t think to question her, she’s probably annoyed by something that Sam said. But then you notice that Sam isn’t getting off his jet ski, does he plan on just not taking his shirt off the entire time?
Lexi comes bounding back to where you and Harry are standing, but she again doesn’t stop. She just keeps walking, clambering back onto her abandoned vehicle. You’re confused for a second, what’s going on? But then you see them, the keys dangling in her fist. You’d know those keys anywhere. They were put on Harry’s keychain the moment that he had picked them up. She has the yacht keys.
Before you can say anything about it, she’s driving off, yelling, “Have fun!” into the wind.
“They did not just-” You start, only to be cut off by Harry. Usually, you’d be annoyed by him, but this time, you have another source of irritation.
“Yeah, they just pulled an Outer Banks on us.” He sighs, walking back to where he had originally been laying.
“Are you not mad?” You try to stop your eyes from tracing the expanse of his back, but it seems to be impossible. The way that his muscles are flexing under the expanse of skin drawing you in.
“No, are you?” He sounds like he couldn’t care less, which is odd. Shouldn’t he be upset that he’s forced to spend an entire day alone with the person that he hates?
“Um, yeah.” You groan. Of course you’re mad, you don’t want to be here. How can he seem so calm?
“Why are you so fucking uptight all the time?” He blurts, catching you off guard. The words hit you like a train, knocking all the air out of your lungs. So this is why he hated you. You just thought that you gave him the wrong vibes or something, he seemed like the kind of person to judge based on that type of thing.
“What do you mean?” He looks over at you and rolls his eyes.
“I mean, why are you so uptight all the time?” For some reason, your chest tightens up and you feel like you’re going to cry. You’d known that he couldn’t stand you, that he’d rather not be around you, but hearing the real reason? Hearing what he really hates about you? That fucking hurts.
“Is that why you hate me?” At most, you had thought that maybe he just looked down on you, thought that you weren’t good enough to be part of the friend group because you didn’t own a fortune 500 company, or sell houses for the richest people in America, or sing to thousands upon thousands of adoring fans. But apparently not. Apparently he had an actual, legitimate reason, and for some reason, that stings.
“I don’t hate you.” You scoff and roll your eyes at him. Did he really think you’d believe that? “I just think that you’re uptight and you get on my last nerve.”
“You hate me, Harry. Don’t try to lie about it.” He can say what he wants, but people that don’t hate you don’t act the way that he does.
“I don’t hate you, I just strongly dislike you.” This makes you snicker. He’s such an idiot sometimes.
“That’s literally just you saying that you hate me with a different word choice.” He looks over at you, and you see the little tufts of curls sticking out from the side of his hat. The sight makes your chest ache, why does he have to be so fucking cute? Why couldn’t you be blessed with an ugly enemy?
“Whatever.” He sighs, brushing the conversation to the side.
You want to continue, but you’re almost scared to. You could just walk back up to the upper deck and continue tanning, or you could even go for a swim, but instead, you stay right where you are. You subconsciously start to play with a loose string on the shirt that you had slipped back on before coming down to Harry.
“I’m not uptight, by the way.” You say after a few moments of silence.
He scoffs, “Yes you are.”
“How so?” You’d love to hear him explain this one, even though it’ll probably either hurt you even more or infuriate you. But you’d like to know why he thinks you’re so uptight,
“You think you’re better than everyone, especially your friends. You have the money to do what you want but you turn your nose up at the finer things in life and give all of us dirty looks when we drink from the top shelf or buy something super expensive.” You’re speechless for a moment, but he doesn’t seem to be done, so it doesn’t really matter. “You act like there’s something better about you getting cheap tequila and wearing the same clothes over and over again. Well, think about it this way, yeah, I buy from the top shelf and I wear a lot of new clothes, but most of those clothes, I get sent. Most of them I don’t even pay for. Which honestly, you’ll probably find to be worse. But yeah, you’re uptight.”
After a moment, the words ignite a fire in you. “First of all, that shows how little you know about me, Styles. I don’t have the money to do what I want. I have money, sure. But not that much. I have enough money from my job to pay for rent, bills, food, and then have a little bit to splurge on myself.” You really don’t want to have this conversation with him, you don’t like to talk about your financial situation with anyone, let alone him. “But nowhere near enough to spend excessive amounts on alcohol or drop almost a grand on a striped t-shirt with a pig on it that’s literally the size of my fingernail. Not all of us can be big shot CEO’s or superstars.”
He looks shocked by your words, which just further added to your point. He didn’t know you, not at all. He pretended to know you, made assumptions about you, all of which seemed to make him hate you more and more.
“Well you still give us dirty looks.” You almost snort at his feeble attempt to save his argument.
“I literally don’t but okay. I don’t really care what you think about me. Hate me if you want to. You’ll be annoying either way.” You turn on your heel to get as far away from his as possible, but he stops you with his words.
“I’m not annoying.” This time, you actually do let out a chuckle. Him thinking that he’s not an annoying little prick is honestly better comedy than the specials they try to run on TV.
“The fuck you aren’t, Harry. All you do is make snide comments.” Who did he think he was? A saint?
“I do not. Don’t start your shit, Y/N.” He glares at you, but his looks don’t have the effect that he wishes this time, they just add fuel to the fire still burning bright inside of you.
“Don’t start my shit?” You snicker. He has to be fucking kidding. “You tell me how trashy I look in outfits that I think I look great in. You tell me my makeup looks like shit and that if I was trying to impress someone, I failed, even though all I do is put it on for myself. You tell me to stop trying so hard to get attention when I’m literally trying to blend in as much as possible.” You’re trying to hold the emotion back, to not cry in front of him, because you’ve already spent enough time crying over the things that he’s said. “You call me a slut when I have a one night stand like you don’t literally bring a different girl hom every fucking night. So I don’t wanna hear it, Harry.”
If looks could kill, the one that he’s giving you at the moment would have you six feet under. “You don’t fucking know me. I don’t bring a new girl home every night, you make me sound like a fuckboy.”
You roll your eyes. “I could make you sound a lot worse. And maybe there’s not one every night, but there’s at least one a week, and I have a one night stand what, maybe once every couple months? If even that?” You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, maybe I don’t know you, but that’s not my fault. I didn’t make the choice to not know you. You pushed me away the second you met me, even though I did nothing to you. You didn’t let me know you. But you don’t know me either.” The tears are gathering in your eyes and threatening to spill onto your cheeks. You look up towards the sky, trying to make them subside. Once you feel confident enough in the fact that they won’t drop, you look back at him. “You’re not just annoying, you’re a dick. The shit you say? God, if you knew how much that shit can hurt someone.”
“Don’t come at me and say that any of that hurts you. You fire right back and then go on with your day.” The smirk that he has plastered on his face makes you want to knock him into a new dimension, but you compose yourself. He isn’t worth it.
“Yeah, of course I just let it roll off my shoulders while I’m around you. Have you ever thought about why that is? About why I seem to not care?” Your voice has slowly but surely become louder. “It’s because I’m not going to cry my eyes out and let myself wonder if maybe you’re right, that maybe I do look like shit and should cover up as much of my body as possible, right in front of you!” By the end, you’re screaming, and you don’t even care.
You take a deep breath and continue, “I can’t give you the fucking satisfaction. Because Lord knows that you’ll just hold that over my head too.”
That seems to have some sort of effect on him. His face falls almost immediately, that god awful smirk disappearing. His eyes seem to get softer, and a part of you wants to walk over and hug him. But you don’t. Of course you don’t. He’s the guy you hate the most.
“I didn’t know you felt that way.” He mumbles as you’re getting ready to head back to the upper deck.
“I’m sorry.” He tries, but you’re not going to let him off the hook that easy.
“Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it, Harry. It’s not like you're even sorry anyway. You don’t care about me, so don’t start acting like you do now.” With that, you turn on your heel and make your way back up to continue tanning.
Once you get back to your towel, you let the few stray tears fall. You hate that he has the power to make you cry, but you can’t help it. He just gets to you, regardless of how hard you try to guard yourself from him.
He comes up after a few minutes and you look over at him, waiting for an explanation.
“I’m going for a swim. If you need anything, I’ll be in the water.” He states, and you turn back around.
“Have fun.” You spit, the words laced with sarcasm.
He doesn’t reply. You hear his footsteps receding and then a splash signaling that he’s jumped off of the boat.
For some reason, you have a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach. At first, you ignore it, but then you stop hearing the sloshing of the water. You can’t help but let yourself get a little panicked. You may not be the biggest fan of the guy, but you can’t just let him drown.
You stand up from your spot on the towel and walk over to the side of the boat that you heard the initial splash come from.
You make your way back down to where you and Harry had fought. You grimace at the thought. Had that really been one of the last things he ever heard? No, you can’t think like that.
You look to your right and notice that all four life jackets are still hooked on the railing. Of course he didn’t take a life jacket. Anything could have happened to him and now you wouldn’t even be able to float. He could be sinking to the bottom, never to be found again.
Yeah, he can swim. He’s actually a really good swimmer, but he could have hit his head on the boat when he jumped in. Or he could have dove down under the water and ended up getting caught on something.
You rush over to slip one of the life jackets and grab an extra. The last thing that you needed was to find him and not be able to drag him back to the boat because he’s too heavy.
You jump in, the life jacket keeping you afloat. With there being no need to concentrate on not drowning, you focus all your efforts on finding Harry. You can’t see him anywhere in the general vicinity, so you start looking under the water as long as you’re able to.
You’re trying your hardest, but you can’t find him.
You start to panic. Suddenly you find it hard to breathe and the tears are streaming down your face. You immediately blame yourself. You should have just stopped earlier, should’ve realized that there’s a better time to argue with him. Maybe if you had just been a little nicer, the two of you could have gotten along for the day. Why didn’t you just stop? Why didn’t you at least accept his apology?
You’re pulled out of your thoughts by a strong pair of arms wrapping around you. You scream, not knowing who it could possibly be. You twist in their arm, realizing that it was only Harry.
You push away from him. “What the fuck, Harry? I thought you died!”
“Really? And you came out here to look for me?” He asks, and for a moment, you think he might be grateful, but you can already see the smirk forming on his lips. You choose to ignore it for the moment, though.
“Yeah, I couldn’t hear you swimming around anymore and I thought maybe you had hit your head on something or gotten pulled under or something like that. Where were you?” You’re trying to wipe the tears off of your face, but your hands are just as soaked as your face, so it does absolutely no use.
“The other side of the boat, why didn’t you just check over there?” His smirk is present in full force now.
“I don’t know, slipped my mind, I guess.” You mumble, knowing that this could have all been avoided if you had just looked on the other side of the boat.
“Seems pretty fucking stupid of you.” He chuckles.
You push even further away from him, throwing the life jacket you had brought for him in his face. “You’re such a fucking dick! Sorry that I cared too fucking much about your life to check the entire perimeter of the boat before trying to save you!”
You can’t believe him. You didn’t think of one thing, in the heat of the moment, and now you’re stupid? Wow. Okay, next time you’ll just let him drown.
You start to swim back towards the boat. He’s following you, but you don’t care enough to acknowledge it.
“I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant, I swear. I know I can be an asshole but I'm not that heartless.” You don’t even turn back to him.
“Problem is, Styles, you really are that heartless.” You spit, climbing back onto the boat, trying to get as far away from him as possible.
He clambers up after you, trying to get your attention. You actively ignore him, though.
He grabs your wrist, wrapping his fingers around the joint. You spin on your heel.
“Let me go, Harry.” you demand.
“Y/N, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” His eyes are pleading with you, but you genuinely can’t care any less.
“Seems pretty fucking stupid of you.” You throw his words back at him.
His face immediately falls, not liking how the words hurt him. He deserves it though. All you were trying to do was help him and he was an absolute prick.
You storm back up to your towel, laying down and trying to dry yourself off.
Not too long after you head back up, he brings you a sandwich that he made with the supplies he had packed in the cooler.
“Thought you might be hungry.” He mumbles when he sits the plate down. He doesn’t wait for you to respond, just turns back and heads to where he came from.
You wait until he’s gone to eat, only doing so because it’s already made and you wouldn’t want the food to go to waste.
*
What seems like eons later, but was definitely only hours, Lexi and Sam get dropped off at the boat by a random couple you’ve never seen before.
You rush down to where they are.
“Did you guys get any closer?” Sam asks.
You just roll your eyes and stick your hand out. “If you don’t hand the keys back this fucking instant, I will not hesitate to jump off this boat and swim back to the docks.”
Lexi looks at you with wide eyes and hands over the keys. The moment that you have them in your hands, you stomp over to Harry and chuck them at him.
“Drive this stupid ass boat back to the docks, and don’t you dare fuck around or you’ll get thrown overboard and I won’t bother to come looking for you.” He doesn’t argue with you, just picks up the keys and makes his way to the wheel.
“What happened?” Lexi questions, but you just brush her off.
“Ask him, he’ll tell you with a fucking smirk on his face.” You walk over to the bench and sit down, not wanting to talk to anyone else throughout the trip back.
*
It only registers with you that you’ll have to ride back to the house with Harry after you get to the docks.
“I’m walking home.” You announce, knowing that it’ll only take fifteen minutes tops to get back to the rental.
“What are you talking about?” Harry and Sam ask at the same time.
You ignore Harry, turning back to Sam. “I’m walking back to the house. It shouldn’t take me long, and there’s no way in hell I’m riding with him.”
With that, you turn and start walking. The road is secluded, lined by trees.
After a few minutes, they drive up to you. Harry rolls down his window. “Y/N, come on, I’ll walk if it’s that big of a deal.”
You raise your hand, flipping him off. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your Gucci shoes.”
He sighs, rolling the window back up and continuing to drive. He knows better than to argue with you right now. There’s no way that he’ll win.
You slow your stride, wanting to prolong the walk as long as possible. You only speed back up when the clouds start to turn into a viscous shade of gray.
The one thing that could bother you more than Harry is thunderstorms. And you can tell by the state of the sky that a bad one’s coming.
*
You sneak back into the house, pushing the door open as quietly as possible. Thankfully, there’s nobody in the living room. Everyone seems to have retired to their rooms.
As you’re creeping down the hallway, you hear Harry talking to Lexi. Her door is slightly ajar and you can’t help but stop and listen.
“No, no. Lexi, I know. I fucked up. I shouldn’t have called her stupid. All she was trying to do was help me. God, I’m such a fucking idiot.” You can hear his voice waiver and you think for a moment that he might be crying. You quickly push the thought from your mind. Why would Harry be crying over you?
“Yeah, you did fuck up. Harry, this isn’t how you treat people that you care about.” Every trace of air leaves your lungs at that. Since when does Harry care about you? You want to blame it on him lying, but why would he? It’s just Lexi. And they have no way of knowing that you’re here. He must be telling the truth.
“I know, I know. We were arguing before then, She told me about how shitty I make her feel and it absolutely tore my heart into pieces. I don’t mean to make her feel that way.” You can’t deny that he’s crying, hearing the sob come less than a millisecond after he finishes.
“I know that, H. But she doesn’t, She thinks you get a kick out of hurting her. She really thinks you hate her.” You can visualize what she’s doing, knowing how she comforts like the back of your hand. She’s running her hand over Harry’s back, trying to soothe him. And if that doesn’t work, she’ll push his hair back and wipe the tears from his face, tell him that it’ll all be okay.
“I’m aware. But I don’t, I hate hurting her. That’s what I hate, not her.” If he doesn't hate you, then why does he act the way that he does?
“Then go show her.” You smile, Lexi knows you so well. She knows that you judge people off their actions. And that you don’t believe a word anyone says until they show you that their words actually mean something.
“Alright. I will when she gets home.” The determination in his voice makes your heart swell.
You hear him get off of his bed and you scurry to your room, not wanting to face him, and really not wanting to get caught eavesdropping. You slip inside and close your door just in the nick of time. Half a second after you’re out of sight, you hear his feet padding along the hallway to his room.
You sigh, a million thoughts running through your head.
Could he really care about you?
If he does, why is he so rude to you all the time?
How does he expect to make this up to you?
You decided to take a shower. Not only to get clean, but also to clear your head. The second the water hits your skin, you know that there’s no way this shower is going to be as quick as you had planned. For a long time, you just stand under the stream of water, letting your mind run rampant with the thoughts of Harry.
Is it a good thing that he could care about you? Sure, you see how he is with everyone else, and you’ve always craved to have that with him. And hating him is absolutely exhausting, most of the time you’d rather just fall into the easy conversation that he’s able to have with the rest of his friends.
But would it be that easy? Probably not. Nothing was ever that easy when it came to him.
Are you willing to work for it? If Harry takes the initiative and tries to show you that he does care, then yes.
Once you come to that conclusion, you realize just how long that you’ve been in the shower. Your body is starting to prune, and the water has gotten significantly cooler.
You step out and throw on the shirt that you slept in the night before, but not slipping on the shorts.
You open the bathroom door and trudge over to the bed, flopping down and switching the lamp off.
Usually, you could never fall asleep comfortably during storms, but after the day that you’ve had, your eyes are shut and sleep is overtaking you in mere moments.
*
Far too soon, you’re being shaken awake.
The first thing you notice is that it’s dark outside. Who in their right minds is waking you up before sunrise, you don’t know.
The second thing you notice is the chill of someone’s cold rings on your skin. The contact makes a shiver run down your spine.
You immediately roll over and face him. The sight of him is not great. He’s soaked from head to toe, water dripping on the floor. You almost have the nerve to scold him for not drying off, but then you realize that he has no reason to be wet. What did he do? What happened to him?
“When did you get home?” He asks, voice sticking in his throat.
“Earlier. Why are you wet?” Your voice is hoarse from sleep and you pray that you don’t sound revolting.
“Went out in the storm.” He shrugs. “None of us heard you come home. I guess when I checked in here earlier you were in the shower or something.”
“Why did you guys go looking? You could’ve just called or texted.” You say, then realize that you may have seemed ungrateful. “Not that I’m complaining, thanks for worrying about me.”
“Well, you see, Sam and Lexi thought you’d be fine. You know the way home, after all. They just thought you had stopped somewhere to cool off and wait out the storm. I went looking though, I was really worried. And I didn’t text or call because I, um, don’t exactly have your phone number.” He lets out a dry chuckle, running his hands through his hair.
Your heart swells. Harry went looking for you. He walked right out into a thunderstorm because he was worried that you were stuck out there by yourself.
“Hey, um, so I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anything, but I heard a snippet of your conversation with Lexi earlier while I was walking to my room.” You gulp, hoping he doesn’t think you’re creepy or anything. “Did you really mean what you said?”
“Which part did you hear?” His question is laced with anxiety and he looks like he’s seconds away from passing out.
“Um, from the part where you said you fucked up and didn’t really hate me.” You mumble.
“Yeah, I meant every word. I also meant it when I said I was gonna show you that I care about you.” He looks up, meeting your eyes. You can’t help the feeling you get in your chest. This man just went out into the pouring rain, lightning falling all around him, just to look for you.
“I think you already did, H.” Regardless of how he treated you in the past. Hell, how he treated you in the past twenty four hours, you can’t help but see tha the really does care about you. Lexi and Sam, the two people in the house who were supposed to not hate you in the slightest didn’t even go looking, but the one person who was supposed to not give a fuck about whether you’re breathing or not did.
“Did you- you just called me H?” He stumbles, and a smile comes to your face.
“Yeah? So?” He said it like it was a good thing, but you could never be too sure with him.
“So, you’ve never done that before.” His expression is unreadable. Usually you can tell exactly what he’s thinking, but right now you’re coming up blank.
“Do you not want me to? I can stop saying it.” You wouldn’t ever want to do something that he’s uncomfortable with, you just thought that’s what everyone called him.
“No!” he blurts. “No, please don’t stop. I like the way it sounds coming from you.”
“Alright.” you grin “H.”
The smile that breaks out over his face is the biggest that you’ve ever seen. “Wait, what did you mean I already did?” He wonders.
“You just risked getting sick to go out in the pouring rain to try to find me.” Which reminds you, if he doesn’t get in a warm shower and some dry clothes soon, he’s going to catch something.
“It’s the least I could do.” His cheeks are turning a light shade of pink, and you really hope that it’s a blush and not him being cold.
“Yeah, but that shows me that you care, H.” You say, getting up from the bed and checking to see if you had brought the extra sweatpants and sweatshirt. Unfortunately, you hadn’t.
“I’m sorry, by the way. Like really sorry. I hate myself for what I said. I’m so stupid. You were just trying to save me and I was a dick.” You appreciate the sentiment, you really do, but right now, that’s not your concern.
“It’s fine.” You mumble, because, really, it is.
“No, it’s not.” He doesn’t want to believe it, but it really is. You wouldn’t be letting him drip excessive amounts of water on the floor if you were still mad at him.
“Yes, H, it is. Now come on, let me go get you some clean clothes. Go get in the shower, there are towels in the bathroom.” You’ve come to the realization that you’d have to retrieve his clothes, seeing as you hadn’t exactly planned for something like this.
“Y/n, it’s fine. I can just go take a shower in my room.” He tries, but you immediately refuse.
“No. You can take one in here so I know that you take one and don’t just change into dry clothes.” The look he gives you lets you know that was exactly what he was planning to do.
“I’m not gonna win this, am I?” You chuckle, pleased that he knows well enough to not argue with you any further on this.
“Not a chance, now get your ass in there.” You put your hands on his shoulders and nudge him towards the bathroom. You try your hardest to not think about the way his muscles ripple underneath your digits.
“Alright, alright. I’m going.” He concedes, trodding into the bathroom.
You wait until you hear the water running before you exit the room to find his clothes. You make the journey to his room, grabbing boxers and a pair of sweatpants from his bag. You don’t bother trying to find a shirt, knowing from the countless times that he’s stripped out of one to take a nap at a friends house that he never wears them to bed.
You make your way back to your room, sitting the clothes down on the small table sat outside the bathroom door.
His vast collection of rings is placed on the table as well. He must have taken them off and sat them there after you left.
Without thinking, your hand reaches out and picks up the rose ring that adorns his hand more often than not. It’s gorgeous, and you can’t stop your fingertips from running across the designs. The band is etched with leaves and vines, and upon further inspection, you feel that there’s a little caterpillar seemingly hidden on the inner part of the ring.
It’s heavy in your hand and you can't help but wonder just how much metal was used to make this ring. It’s obvious that it was hand etched, so your mind tries to picture how big the piece was before the carving started.
After a few moments, you place it back on the table, picking up his Cartier ring. You wonder for a moment how something so simple could cost the ridiculous price that it did. Sure, it’s absolutely gorgeous, but the price tag that you know it carries is enough to make the appeal fade. You don’t have the luxury of dropping thousands on a ring.
He opens the door and you immediately drop the ring, cheeks burning from being caught. You know how much he adores his rings, and you’re scared for a split second that you’ve overstepped, crossed a boundary that he wouldn’t be comfortable with.
All your worries are washed away, though, when he says, “Wear it.” He reaches over for his clothes, a towel wrapped around his waist.
You gawk at him. Was he serious? “H, I can’t do that.” You go to scramble away, before your eyes get caught on the way that the water droplets from the shower cling to him, the sheen making his tattoos even more vivid. God, what you would do to trace every line and seemingly miniscule detail.
He gives you a soft smile, and your heart speeds up to a rate that has to be unhealthy, especially since you’re sitting still, your back rimrod straight. “Yes you can. Go ahead, put it on.” He urges.
You sigh, picking up the Cartier ring that you had been admiring moments prior and slip it on your ring finger, that being the one you wear all rings on. You glance up at him through your lashes and you can see the way that his eyes seem to have lit up. You try to ignore the way your stomach flutters, the butterflies going absolutely wild.
He chuckles, looking down at your finger, where the ring sits, looking about five sizes too small. You join along, letting a lighthearted laugh slip through your lips. It truly was ginormous on you, but you expected no less. He does have large hands, after all.
“I’ve got a chain around here somewhere, keep the ring.” He says nonchalantly, like he’s not gifting you a fucking Cartier ring.
“Harry, no, it’s too expensive.” You can’t possibly accept this ring, so you really hope that he doesn’t fight you on it. You’re pretty sure you’d say yes to just about anything if he keeps looking at you like he’s just seen the most precious thing in the world.
“If you don’t keep it and wear it, I’ll never wear it again, so it might as well be worn by you.” He argues, giving you the stern look that you know well. It’s always the one that says not to argue back, that he’ll just continue pestering you if you do.
Knowing that the argument would go on for hours on end if you didn’t, you reluctantly agree.
He gives a triumphant smile before returning to the bathroom, clothes in hand.
A moment later, he comes back out into your room and your ability to breathe is gone. You swear he’s the most perfect person you’ve ever seen. Sure, you’ve seen how pretty he is before, but you’ve never let yourself truly see how perfect he is. Maybe you prematurely judged that article. Maybe they had a point.
The muscles in his upper body ripple under his tan skin, making your mouth damn near water. You avert your eyes from his shoulders to his chest, admiring the butterfly inked onto his abdomen. You had always adored that tattoo, at times you even wished that you had thought of the idea before he had. You see the way that the ferns underneath trace his lower stomach, the endings leading a trail right to the band of his sweatpants.
God, why would you get him gray sweatpants? At this view, your mouth actually does water, wondering how good he would look with even less on.
Him shuffling over to pick up his rings is what breaks you out of your trance, your cheeks heating up from the thoughts that had been running through your mind.
He places each of the rings carefully back on his hands, sans the Cartier ring. He left that one on the table, looking up at you with a smirk.
He begins to make his way out the door, but you stop him.
“H,” you give him your best puppy eyes when he stops and looks over his shoulder at you, “Will you stay with me? I’m scared of thunderstorms.”
“Are you really?” He doesn’t say it in a mocking way, it’s more in a perplexed way. You’re not confused by this in the slightest, as far as he used to be concerned, you’re not scared of anything.
“Yeah,” you admit, “but I also want to get to know you. Feel like we’ve missed a lot while hating each other.”
He sighs, “Never hated you.”
You smile, “I know, I know, but I thought you did. Made me not able to get to know you very well.”
“Alright.” He agrees. “Let me go put my rings up and get that chain for you and then I’ll stay.”
You wait patiently as he does just that, wondering why you had never just taken the time to talk to him before. Would it really have been that simple?
“Here you are.” He speaks when he reenters the room, walking over to the stand and placing the ring on the chain. Once he’s done, he gently sets it back down, ensuring that the chain doesn’t get tangled, and then trudges over to you.
He sits on the edge of the bed, probably just intending to stay until you fall asleep, and at first you’re fine with that. But then you start to get progressively more tired, and your clinginess starts kicking in, that fact that you’re touch starved not helping.
“H.” you groan, making his ears perk up and his eyes snap to yours.
“Hmm?” he wonders.
You make grabby hands at him. “Come cuddle with me.”
A smile breaks out on his face and your stomach does the flippy thing that makes your heart race.
He slowly crawls towards you, as if he’s giving you enough time to take back your words, to give him any sign that you regret ever asking him to come up to you. Once he’s right beside you and you’ve made no move to stop him, he slips under the covers and pulls you close.
You immediately sigh in content and place your head on his chest, the sleepiness taking over more and more as you listen to his heartbeat against your ear.
RIght before you completely drift off, you mumble, “You’re not as bad as I thought you were.” You hope he hears you, but you don’t have the time to check, sleep overtaking your body and pulling you under.
*
When you wake up the next morning, you let your eyes stay shut, not wanting to be greeted with the sunlight just yet.
You shift slightly and realize that you’re still laying with Harry. You can feel his solid chest under your head, your legs are tangled with his.
After a moment, you can feel him looking at you, “It’s rude to stare, H.” You joke, expecting him to laugh.
He doesn’t, though, instead he just whispers, “Can’t help it. You’re beautiful.”
You immediately blush, burning under the compliment. You’re still not used to being this close to Harry in general, but receiving compliments from him is even weirder.
“Can I tell you something?” You look up at him, waiting for him to accept your question.
“Yeah, anything.” He holds eye contact with you, your faces mere inches apart. You could very easily push yourself up and attach your lips to his, but you refrain, not wanting to push too far. You had just started really talking to each other last night.
“I never hated you either.” You say, the words barely audible. You’re ashamed of it, of the fact that you pretended to hate him, probably making everything worse than it had to be.
“Really?” He looks hopeful, like he’s praying that you’re not joking with him.
“Really. I just thought that you hated me. Figured that we should at least balance each other out.” You let out a humorless laugh, trying to make light of the situation, but you still can’t shake the guilt. You probably could have been lying in bed with him a long time ago had you just made it clear that you didn’t hate him.
“So all this time, neither one of us hated the other, but we both thought we did?” He has a smirk etched on his face, and a very large part of you wants to close the space between the two of you. You can’t handle the smirk right now, not when his chestnut curls are framing his face the way that they are. Not when his bare chest is still pressed against you, warming you up in the most delightful way.
“Basically.” You can’t help but giggle. The situation really is quite ridiculous.
You move to get up and he pouts, holding onto you and trying to get you to stay in his arms, he’s enjoying the warmth that you’re radiating.
“Where are you going?” He whines, making your throat constrict. He sounds so pretty when he whines.
“I’ve gotta pee, I’ll be right back.” You promise, knowing that the words will soothe him.
“Don’t go…” He tries giving you puppy dog eyes, but they won’t work this time, not when you can feel the urge to use the bathroom growing.
“I have to pee, but I promise I’ll come back to exactly where I was when I’m done.” You reach over to him and push a stray curl behind his ears, reveling in how soft that his hair is.
“Good, I wanna keep cuddling.” He mumbles, and you can’t help but feel the butterflies return yet again. You can’t believe that Harry was just begging you to stay curled up in bed with him.
It all seems a little off, having him in your bed, cuddling with you. Less than twenty four hours prior, you were screaming at each other on a boat about how much you can’t stand each other, and now neither of you do? You come to find out that the both of you were faking it this entire time? The entire situation is a little confusing, but you’re a lot happier with it than you were with being at each other's throats all the time.
Now that the two of you are being more honest with each other, you figure it’s probably time to start being more honest with yourself. And that starts with admitting the feelings that you’ve been suppressing for him.
You had seen how attractive he was the moment that you had even laid eyes on one of the numerous articles about him. You aren’t shallow though, that’s not what made you have the feelings that you had developed for him. You could also see just how nice he was to everyone else, how he lit up every room that he walked into. How everyone was always put into a better mood just by his presence. You began to fall for that version of himself, the one that he was with everyone else. You had caught feelings before he even said a word to you. There were times when you had been at the same party or event, and you’d be able to feel the effect he had on everyone else. And at first, that was intimidating, but then you felt a pull to him. Like the two of you were magnets and were destined to be together.
But then you actually talked to him, and everything went south.
Now, though, you’ve realized that he’s only like he is with you because he thought that you hated him. Which is absurd to you, but you were quite distant that night. You had been overwhelmed, thinking that you were inferior to him in every way that night. Maybe that’s why he thought that you hated him, because you didn’t show that much interest, because you seemed like you didn’t want to get to know him.
You don’t really know how to process that information. This entire thing had initially been your fault, had you just gotten over yourself and realized that you’re good enough to talk to him, all of this could have been avoided.
As you wash your hands and get ready to exit the bathroom, you can’t help but wonder what everything’s going to be like. How are you going to act around each other? Is it gonna change? Are you still going to bicker or are you going to act like everything’s perfectly fine?
You scoff at yourself, of course you’re still going to bicker, that’s who you are. Plus, nobody’s perfect, all friends argue about something at points.
When you come out of the bathroom he’s sitting on the end of the bed. You raise your eyebrows in question. “Thought we were gonna keep cuddling?”
He quickly rises when he sees you. “Had a slightly better idea.” He holds out his hand and waits for you to take it.
“I’m more of a touchy kind of person.” He starts after you take his hand. “I show that I care about people by physical touches.” He pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your waist. “If we’re gonna tell them that we don’t hate each other, we’ve got to at least make it believable.”
“Stop making it sound like we’re pretending.” You laugh. “You just cuddled with me throughout the night. There’s no way in hell we hate each other. But yeah, I’m that way too, so I don't mind the touches.” You assure, pulling back and reconnecting your hands.
He gives you a reassuring look as you walk out of your room and into the sitting room. Sam and Lexi stop the conversation they were having immediately and look over at the two of you. Their jaws are on the floor within moments, obviously not believing what they're seeing.
“Why are you holding hands?” Sam blurts, breaking the silence that had blanketed the room.
“H, you only do that with girls you’re dating or girls that you’re friends with. What’s happening?” Lexi adds, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes.
“Wanna explain?” Harry asks, squeezing your hand.
“Sure.” You say.
You begin to explain it to them, making sure to get all the details. Harry’s mostly quiet beside you, only inputting anything when you forget something.
For a moment after you finish, the silence is back. Lexi and Sam look at you like you’re absolutely insane. After a minute of letting their brains process the information, they finally let smiles break out on their faces, jumping up from the couch to hug the both of you, excited that you guys can finally get along.
*
After a little while of the four of you sitting around and talking, it’s decided that everyone should go out on the yacht. This time, though, nobody will be stealing any keys.
Once you get out to the desired spot on the water and anchor the boat, you turn to Harry. “Hey, H?”
“Yeah, love?” He used the term like it’s no big deal, but it makes your stomach churn in the best way possible.
“Wanna go swimming? Promise not to think you’ve drowned again.” You chuckle.
Harry doesn’t seem as amused though, still feeling guilty about how he treated you. “Sure, promise not to be a dick again.”
You walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your head into his chest. “I told you it was alright, H. Stop beating yourself up over it.”
He sighs, nodding his head. You grab his hand, pulling him along the deck to the edge of the boat.
“Wanna jump together?” You look over at him and see the smile break out across his face, the dimples and eye crinkles out in full force.
“Yeah, love, let’s do it.” Before you can think too much about the second use of the word, he’s counting down from three and then you’re jumping, body submerging into the crystal water.
If you had been paying more attention to anyone besides Harry, you would have seen the way that Lexi and Sam were caught up in watching you, wondering how in the world the two of you had done a full one eighty in less that twenty four hours. Sure, they wanted the two of you to get along, but they never expected you to get this close as fast as you did.
After a while of swimming around with Harry, you decide to get out and try to tan, seeing as not everyone can be actors that get paid to go swimming and get tans.
As you do so, you can feel Harry’s eyes on your body, but you choose not to acknowledge it. For a moment, you want to invite him to come tan with you, but you don’t want to make your feelings too obvious to him.
*
When it starts to get dark, Lexi proposes that everyone head back to the deck. You agree, ready to go home and get out of your bikini.
Harry tries to get you to drive the yacht, even trying to teach you, but to no avail, you have absolutely no skill when it comes to driving boats.
Once you get to the docks and clamber off the yacht, the group splits up, Lexi and Sam going towards their car while you and Harry head towards his.
“Are you hungry, darling?” He ponders once you’re settled in the car.
“I mean a little bit, why?” You reach over to turn on the radio, letting the soft sounds of music play through the car.
“I saw this cute little diner when I was looking for you last night.” He says, handing you his phone. “Plug up the aux cord and play something from Spotify.”
You scroll through his spotify, seeing that his work out playlist is just One Direction songs. You almost snort, but don’t want to give away the song you’re going to choose.
After another moment of scrolling, you turn the volume on the speakers all the way up, clicking on “What Makes You Beautiful” and letting the opening chords play through the car.
He smirks, looking over at you. “I hope you know that you’re expected to scream this with me.”
Your features mirror his, “Oh, trust me, I planned on it.”
*
When you reach the diner, you see just how cute it really is. But then you realize that the two of you had been in the car for almost twenty minutes, which arguably isn’t a long time, but to walk this far it would have taken forever.
“H, you walked this far looking for me?” You ask, although you already know the answer.
“Yeah. Well, technically, I walked further.” He blushes at his words and your heart melts in your chest. You can’t help but feel a little guilty, though. It had been storming, full on thunder and lightning every few seconds. He could have gotten hurt, yet he put his safety to the side because he thought that you hadn’t come home yet. If only you had put aside your pettiness and just let everyone know that you had arrived home safely, he wouldn’t have had to walk out in the storm at all.
You walk into the diner, shaking the thoughts from your head. Harry leads you to a booth near the back, one that’s placed right next to a window with a wonderful view.
Moments after you’re settled into your seat, a waiter comes up to you and takes your order. You notice that he’s paying special attention to you, and it makes you slightly uncomfortable, so you turn to Harry after reciting your order. “What do you want, baby?”
He gives you a questioning look but ultimately goes along with it, not even missing a beat. He gives his order to the waiter and waits until he walks away to turn back to you. “What was that about?”
“He was staring at me, looking me up and down, it made me really uncomfortable.” You say, looking down at your hands. “Thought if he believed we were together that he’d stop, which he didn’t.” You scoff at the audacity of the waiter. “Sorry if I ended up just making you uncomfortable too.”
He reaches over the table, taking your hands in his. “Hey, it’s alright. I wasn’t uncomfortable, just took me by surprise, is all.” He gives your hands a gentle squeeze. “If he comes back over and makes eyes at you, I’ll put him in his place, okay?”
You chuckle, nodding at him. Hopefully, the waiter would get caught up with other customers or would learn some manners so that he didn’t say anything, but either way, you knew you’d be okay.
“So, anyways, how can you be so bad at driving the yacht? It’s just a boat.” Harry asks, obviously trying to hold in a laugh.
“It’s really not that hard to be bad at it.” You defend. “I know plenty of people that can’t drive a boat.”
“Have they ever tried?” His eyebrows raise.
“No.” You mumble, flicking your eyes from his gaze.
“Well that explains that.” He pauses until you meet his gaze again. “No, but seriously, it’s way easier to drive than a car.”
You clear your throat. “I’m not that good at that either, H.”
“Really?” He looks embarrassed, sorry to have pushed you, like he was worried that he had gone too far.
You really didn’t mind, though, it’s not something you’re ashamed of, you just don’t really like driving. “Really. Ever noticed how I don’t drive anywhere?”
His eyes widen in realization. “Yeah, actually. If nobody else is available, I used to drive you places.”
“Yeah, well, that’s because I suck at driving.” You say, looking down at your hands, which you realize are still being held by his. “I just feel more comfortable with other people driving me around.”
You feel him squeeze your hands again, the rings biting into your skin slightly. “I thought maybe you just didn’t have a car.”
Your head snaps up, eyes meeting his. You flash him a dirty look and go to pull your hands from his. Before you can, though, he squeezes tighter, making you stop for a moment.
“Not like that! It’s just that everything you do is in close proximity to your house.” Your hateful look subsides. You had seemed to forget for a moment that you weren’t enemies anymore. You were… friends? “There’s not really a need for you to have a car unless you were to drive somewhere far away, but usually that’s only for work and you fly.” He continues.
“Well, yeah, that’s true. But I do have a car, I just prefer not to drive it myself.” He nods his head, seeming to understand enough to let it slide.
You fall into a comfortable silence, his hands still clutching yours. You let your eyes scan over his face before wandering back to his seafoam green eyes. God, his eyes are beautiful. Everything about him is beautiful, honestly.
You’re broken out of your examination of him by the waiter coming back with your food and beverage choices. He sits Harry’s down first, and then places yours down. He doesn’t look at Harry again, just looking at you as he asks if there’s anything else that’s needed. You see his eyes trail downwards, and you give Harry’s hand a squeeze, causing him to clear his throat at the manager.
“Excuse me, sir?” This catches the waiter’s attention, making him turn back to Harry. “Could you maybe not eye fuck my girlfriend right in front of me?”
The waiter balks at him, and then tries to deny it. “I- I wasn’t!”
“Let’s not lie about it, you definitely were.” His voice is raspy and it makes your heart rate pick up. “And you were making her uncomfortable, so how about you explain to one of your coworkers why you need to switch them tables, yeah?”
The waiter just nods, walking away without so much as a glance back.
“Thank you, H.” He doesn’t reply, just squeezes your hands to let you know you’re alright. He lets go to eat, but you can see the way that his jaw is clenched.
“Hey, what’s up, you’re tense.” You try to meet his eyes, but he won’t look at you.
“I just don’t like the way he was looking at you.” He mumbles.
You make the split second decision to walk over to his side of the booth and slide in next to him. He immediately makes room for you, lifting up his arm so you can crawl into his side.
“I’m alright, you know. I just don’t like being looked at like an object.” You whisper into his side.
“I know, love. I know you’re alright, you’re strong.” He squeezes you closer to him and you feel a smile come to your face. “And I don’t like it either. I’ll punch him next time he looks at you like that.”
You reach up and run your hand through his hair, smiling at him. He leans into your touch, and that’s when you realize just how close you are. He’s got you pulled into his side, one of your thighs is slung over his, and your faces are what seems to be only a few millimeters apart.
Every part of you wants to close the difference, to press your lips to his. Every fiber of your being wants to know what his lips feel like, wants to know how they taste. You don’t lean in, though, not wanting to ruin what the two of you have going on.
You look back down, pulling your food over to you and finishing your meal.
After the check is paid, he drives you home, the only sounds in the car being the radio and the tap of his fingers against the steering wheel.
*
The next day flows by smoothly, everyone just chilling on the yacht and going for a swim.
When you get back to the house that night, though, Sam and Lexi come to your room to tell you that they’ll be leaving early, babbling on about some really good sale on jeans or something. They ask if you want to go with them but you politely decline, having absolutely no interest in jeans that, even when on sale, probably cost thousands of dollars.
They bid you a goodnight and let you know that they’ll be leaving early in the morning, most likely before you get up.
You wish them a safe trip and then roll over in bed, thinking about what this would mean. It would just be you and Harry for a few days. Would you spend a bunch of time together? Would you even talk that much?
You don’t know how to spend that much alone time with Harry, mostly because you’ve only been close enough to spend any amount of time with him for a few days.
You’re anxious, probably more than you have been in a while. You can feel your hands sweating and your breath getting caught in your throat.
Suddenly, a knock comes at your door and you immediately yell, “Come in!”
You expect it to be Lexi or Sam, but it’s Harry.
“Hey, don't you mind if I hang with you?” He asks, fiddling with his fingers. “I’m kinda bored, plus the other night I saw that mini puzzle you brought so I was thinking maybe we could do that?”
You smile at his observational skills. “Yeah, it’s no problem. Come on, I’ll get the puzzle.”
You walk over to the carry on that you had packed and grabbed the puzzle. It’s only a hundred pieces, but each one is so small and oddly shaped that you had never been able to get the placement right. You had figured you’d try to do so on this trip, but you hadn’t seemed to have the time.
You trudge back over to the bed, sitting down a piece of cardboard that you had found in a storage closet when exploring the closet a few days prior, and spread out the pieces.
You immediately get to work, him doing the same. Every time he would reach to grab a piece, his rings clack together, and you can’t help but gaze at them. You love the way that the rings look on him.
He looks over at you, catching you staring at his hands. He chuckles, before hopping off the bed, seeming to remember something.
“I’ll be right back.” He promises, not waiting for your response before coming back with one hand behind his back.
“Hold out your hand.” He demands, and you do so, holding out your right hand. “No, no, palm side down.” You flip your hand over and then he slides a ring onto your right hand.
After it’s placed on your hand, you look down, realizing that it’s a replica of his rose ring, but this one actually fits you, which means that he would have to have bought it specifically for you.
You can feel your chest tightening and your eyes begin to get a little blurry. His gesture is so cute and all you want to do is wrap him up in your arms.
“H, when did you even get this?” You say, gesturing to the ring.
“The other day after everyone went to bed, I drove to London and got it.” He says, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “I saw you looking at it the other day, figured I’d get one that would fit you so that we could match.”
“Thank you, H. That’s so sweet of you.” You wrap your arms around him, and without thinking, you crawl into his lap, straddling him. “How do you even think of things like this?”
He doesn’t say anything about the way that you're sitting, just wraps his arms around your back and pulls you impossibly closer.
“When I’m not pretending to hate people, I’m actually pretty smart.” he chuckles, and you can feel the vibration of the action throughout your body.
“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Styles.” You mumble into his neck. “You’re still an idiot.”
“Hey!” He whines, pushing you off of him only to tackle you into the mattress, tucking his head into the crook of your neck.
Subconsciously, you raise your hand up, digging into his hair and beginning to play with it. Neither of you say anything, just enjoying each other’s presence. After a while, you start to feel Harry getting heavier and heavier, his breathing getting more even.
You try to stay in that position, loving the feeling of him wrapped up on you, but he’s a lot bigger than you and all the muscle he’s put on makes him a lot heavier than you can handle, the weight being too much on your chest and making you feel like you can’t breathe.
You roll him off of you, trying to be as gentle as possible so that you don’t wake him up, but you fail epicly. The second that you’ve got him completely off of you, he grabs your waist, pulling you over to lay on him like he was on you moments prior. Your legs are tucked between his, your face pressed into his neck. His warmth is radiating into your skin and his scent is swirling around you.
“Night, love.” He mumbles, angling his face down to kiss the top of your head.
“Night, H.” You murmur back, pulling the blanket over the two of you.
You focus on the way that his chest feels rising and falling underneath yours. You can feel his heartbeat, the way that it seems to be slightly faster than usual. You don’t think too much of it, though, he’s probably just hot.
Slowly, your thoughts begin to slow down, the prospect of a good night’s sleep pulling you further and further under until you’re dreaming about Harry.
*
When you wake up the next morning, you’re sweating. At first, you don’t think much of it, you were sandwiched between Harry and a wool blanket, after all. But then you realize that there’s something off with the way that Harry feels.
He’s radiating more heat than he normally does, which is already more than most people do.
You’re worried that he could be sick, so you scurry to the bathroom to find the thermometer that you saw when you first started staying in the house.
You make quick work of cleaning it off with an alcohol wipe, not wanting to risk him getting anything worse than he possibly already could have.
You shake him awake, ignoring his groans of protest, and make him put the thermometer under his tongue. You press the button and wait for it to beep, signifying that it’s done.
You feel like you’re going to be sick when you look at the digital number that’s being presented to you. 102 degrees. That’s not ideal.
“Hospital, H. Now.” You demand, not giving any room to argue on this. There’s no way that you’re going to let him lay in bed with a fever when you don’t even know what’s causing it. Maybe some people would, but you refuse. There are countless reasons why he could have this high of a fever, and each of them had different recommended treatments. You weren’t going to risk it and treat him for the wrong thing, only to make something worse.
He grumbles a “no” and you shake your head. Of course he would fight you on this.
“I’m not risking your life, H. Get the fuck up.” You wait for a moment, watching him shake his head no again. Once you know he won’t get up, you wrap your forearms underneath his arms and lift, dragging his lanky figure out of bed.
Once he’s completely off the bed and standing next to you, you lift his arm, wrapping it around your shoulders so that you can support his weight. You grunt from the added stress on your shoulders.
You begin to make your way out to the car, making sure to stop on the way out the door to grab the keys from the hook and a water bottle from the fridge for him.
You unlock his car and all but shove him into the passenger seat, leaning across him and buckling his seatbelt for him.
Once that’s completed, you rush around the car and slip into the driver’s side, buckling your own seatbelt before inserting the key in the ignition and turning the car on.
“You hate driving, you can’t get me there.” He tries to argue, and you just laugh.
“You couldn’t drive even if you wanted to. Plus, I can get you there. I’ll be fine.” There’s no way that you were going to chicken out of this. Sure, you hated driving, but you hated the idea of something happening to him even more.
“No, y/n, it’s fine, if you don’t like driving you shouldn’t have to drive me.” The fact that he’s thinking of you right now, of all times, makes your heart rate quicken. How was he always so sweet? “I’ll be alright. I’ll just sweat it out.”
“No, Harry, you will not just sweat it out.” You say, rubbing a hand over your face. “You could die if it gets too much worse. There could be something seriously wrong. And you’re probably like this because you went out in the rain looking for me.” Sure, it’s been a few days, but that doesn’t mean that it wasn’t from that. The symptoms could have just not been showing up until now. “And trust me when I say that I am most definitely not letting you die.” You give him a look when he starts to protest again.
The drive to the hospital is shaky. There’s a few times where you think you’re going to freak out, but each time, Harry reaches his hand over and squeezes your knee in reassurance and you instantly feel your breathing even out again.
Thankfully, you make it there safely. Throughout the trip he had drank the entire water bottle and he seemed to be more alert than he was when you woke him up. You still come over to his side of the car and help him hobble into the hospital, though, not wanting him to accidentally fall and break anything.
You sit him down in one of the chairs and walk to the counter to check him in. You come back with the paperwork that the lady handed you, and you’re surprised to know that you know the majority of the answers. You only have to pester him when you get to the section about his family’s medical history and when you need him to sign the paperwork.
You quickly go back to the counter to give her the pages back. She smiles and assures you that she’ll get everything entered and that the doctor will be right with him.
The doctor comes out and calls his name. He takes one glance in her direction and then grabs your hand. “Y/N, can you come back with me?” He gives you the best puppy dog eyes that he can manage.
You chuckle, agreeing immediately. How could you ever say no to that face?
Once you get to the room that the doctor led you too, she begins to ask a few questions. After answering them, she takes Harry’s temperature, the thermometer that she uses reading the same as the one at the house did. She decided to do a few tests, some of which nearly make Harry throw up, and then comes back with the results a little while later.
“It seems like he has the flu. Nothing too serious as of right now, though. I’ll give you a prescription to get filled for him since it doesn’t seem like he’ll be doing much for himself until his fever goes down, at least.
You smile, thanking her for letting you know, and gather Harry and the prescription paper. On the way back to the house, you drop off the prescription and wait for it to be filled.
“Can I go in and get some candy?” He asks as you get out of the car to go pick up the medicine.
“No, H,” You see him pout at you, so you quickly continue, “but I can go in and get it for you.”
The smile that he gives you makes your world slow. All you want to do for the remainder of time is just make him smile and bask in the light that it gives off. But you can’t focus on that right now, you have to go in and get his candy and his medicine and then get him back home.
He tells you what he wants, whining about how it’s his absolute favorite candy. You go buy it for him, deciding to get a few of them so that he’ll have some for later, hopefully for when after he feels better. You also get him another water bottle, knowing that he’ll have to take his medicine once you get back to the car.
You quickly go to the counter, giving them his information and then walking back out to the car.
After paying for everything, you rush back to the car and give him his medicine. After he’s taken it, he begins to munch on his candy as you drive the both of you back to the rental.
Once you reach the rental, the ride back goes much smoother than the one there, you take him back to your room and lay him on the bed.
“I can’t sleep in here.” You frown, wondering why he’s had the sudden change of heart. “You’ll get the flu too.”
You roll your eyes at him. “I’ve slept in the same bed as you already.” You sit on the bed next to him, reaching up and combing your hair through the sweaty tendrils. “I literally woke up on top of you, if I’m going to get it, I’ll get it whether you sleep in here tonight or not.”
He grumbles, but ultimately doesn’t put up that big of a fight, knowing that if he doesn, he’ll lose.
“Do you wanna take a shower?” You mumble, still letting your digits card through his hair.
“Are you trying to tell me I stink?” He tries to laugh but it comes out more as a cough and you can’t help but want to wrap him up in your arms and take any and all of the pain that he could be feeling away.
“No, you actually smell really good for being sick, but you have a lot of dried sweat on you from your fever.” You smile down at him, seeing him give you a lazy, lopsided grin in return.
“Can I take a bath?” He asks, eyes lighting up at the prospect of being able to sit down but still get the sweat off of him.
“Yeah, that’ll work, bubs.” You don’t even think about the pet name until it slips out of your mouth. You want to take it back, scared that he’ll hate it.
All your worries, along with any trace of regret, washes away when you see his smile grow, the dimples popping deep into his cheeks.
“If I put bubbles in the water so that you can’t see anything, will you wash my hair?” He questions, and there’s no way that you’re going to say no to him. And you realize that it’s not just because he’s sick. It’s because it’s just so easy to give into him, to want to give him everything that he asks for, just about no matter what it is.
You’re not going to let him know just how easily that you want to agree with him, though, so you drag it out just a little longer. :You’re really milking this for all it’s worth aren’t you?”
“I mean, I guess. I don’t know.” He sighs, looking like he’s trying to find the right words. You stay quiet, waiting for him to find the ones that he’s searching for. “I just really like it when you play with my hair, and I’m assuming that it’ll feel even better if you were to wash my hair.” His cheeks flush crimson. “Just really like having your hands in my hair, I guess.”
You feel like you’re going to explode with the overflow of emotions that you’re currently experiencing, so you decide not to drag it out any more than you already have, knowing that you’ll regret it if you do. “Fine, yeah, H. I’ll wash your hair for you.”
The way that his eyes light up makes it all the more worth it. You’d do anything to see him have that look on his face more often. You used to see a lot more of that, before things started happening that scared him. You found yourself wishing, more often than not, that he had never had someone find his address, and that he had never had people hold him at knife point. He had been slightly less open after that, kind of like he didn’t trust that many people anymore. And, even though you hadn’t admitted it since you were pretending to hate everything about him, you had missed the way that his eyes would sparkle at the simplest things, and how he would be the first to jump at the idea of a night out.
“Thank you!” He lunges up from his spot on the bed to hug you, wrapping you in his arms and not letting go for a moment.
After letting him keep you in his embrace for what you deem is long enough, you push him towards the bathroom.
“Go get the bath ready, I’ll go get you some clothes.” You nudge him, but then realize something. Before you walk out, you take his hands in yours, sliding his rings off this nimble fingers one by one until they’re all in your palms. “I’ll take these to your room and put them up, alright?”
“Yeah, do you still have yours?” You nod, pointing to the rose ring on the dresser, sitting right next to his Cartier ring on the chain. He smiles, then waddles into the bathroom.
You make your way to his room and rifle through his suitcase, trying to find something that isn’t another pair of sweatpants or swimming trunks. You want him to be comfortable but not too hot, and you don’t know if he’d be comfortable in just boxers.
You end up finding a pair of shorts at the very bottom. You grab those and some boxers, along with a hoodie of his for yourself, before heading back to your room.
You don’t hear the water running when you enter/ “Are you ready, H?”
“Yeah, you’re good!” You slip on the hoodie before entering the bathroom. You place his clothes on the counter, out of the way from everything, and come sit on the floor next to the tub.
The water and the bubbles come up to the bottom of his butterfly tattoo. You trace it with your eyes, and before you can even think about what in the world you’re doing, your hand is reaching out to trace it. You stop yourself halfway there and look up at him, your cheeks aflame.
“Go ahead.” He urges. “You can touch.”
You let your hand travel the distance to his abdomen. You begin to trace the lines of the butterfly. The wings, the patterns, the antenna. You can feel the muscles in his stomach clench as you venture towards the bottom of the wings, so you travel back upwards with your hand.
After you finish tracing what seems to be every line in the tattoo, you look up at him, slowly moving your hand north, but stopping slightly above the butterfly. Once he gives his nod of approval, you move up to the swallows, loving how they look on him.
Before you’re even done with those, he nods again, urging you to continue. So, you do just that, tracing the lettering on his body and moving down his arm to run over the ship, the rose, the hands. You trace everything that you can, ending at the little cross tattooed on his hand.
“You missed a few.” He rasps, and you quirk your brow in confusion. The only ones that you know of that could have been missed are the ones submerged under the water.
He doesn’t say anything, just lifts up his arm to show you the tattoos. You immediately reach back out, tracing over the bird cage and the masks, along with the lettering there. You can feel his body shiver at your touch, and you can’t help but mimic the action. The feeling of his skin under your own is electrifying.
“They’re all so beautiful, H.” You whisper, not completely trusting your voice yet.
“Thank you.” His voice isn’t much higher than yours.
You shake your head, trying to rid your head of the thoughts of him. You clear your throat and reach for the shampoo bottle. You pour a generous amount into your hand and begin to lather it into his hair, massaging his scalp with your fingers as you do so.
He lets out a sound that’s a mix between a pleased sigh and a moan and you almost choke on the air that you’re filling your lungs with.
“Feels so good.” He mumbles, letting his eyes slip shut. You can’t help but smile at him, the way that he looks so peaceful, so relaxed and utterly himself that all you can do is grin at him.
“Does it?” You inquire, knowing for a fact that it does, just wanting to keep the conversation going for a little longer. There’s something about the raspiness in his voice that makes you never want to stop hearing it.
“Yeah, feels better than just about anything else I’ve ever experienced.” This time, he lets out a groan that’s so close to a growl that you have to take a moment to breathe.
“I’m glad.” You all but squeak.
After you rinse his hair out and begin to apply the conditioner to his hair, he looks up at you. “Hey, mind if I tell you something?”
“Yeah, go ahead, bubs. You can tell me anything.”
He seems to mull it over in his head for a moment and then speaks up again. “Promise not to get weird or anything?”
You’re beginning to get slightly worried. Part of you is scared that he’s going to tell you that he killed someone and now he needs help hiding the body or something extreme like that. Although, if he asked, you definitely would help him, that’s just the kind of friend that you are. “Yeah, I promise.”
He looks up at you through his lashes, making sure that he’s holding eye contact with you. “I kinda, um, like you.”
You smile, he’s so dramatic for no reason. “I kinda like you, too. You’re not as awful as I thought you were.”
“Thank you, but that’s not really what I meant by that.” He has a slight grimace on his face, like he’s scared that what comes out of his mouth next will hurt him in some way.
“What did you mean then?” He still seems hesitant, scared even. “You can tell me, bubs. I don’t bite.”
He takes a deep breath, settling himself. “I meant, I have feelings. For you.” You feel like your heart stops. All the breath is sucked from your lungs. Harry Styles? Likes you? “I don’t know for sure when they turned from ‘oh, she’s pretty and seems sweet’ to ‘I Wish that she didn’t hate me so maybe I’d have a chance’, but they did.” You feel him reach out and take your hand in yours, and all the emotions running through your body threaten to spill out. “And, trust me, I know that I treated you like shit and I don’t deserve you or your love but I just had to tell you.”
“Are you telling me that Harry Styles has a crush on me?” You ask, slightly chuckling.
“If that’s what you wanna call it, yeah.” He says, cheeks getting more and more red by the second.
You shake your head, not wanting to get too excited. He had a fever. Fevers can cause confusion and can make people think things that they don’t mean. “You don’t mean that. You have a fever, you'll feel different when you wake up in the morning.”
His face falls, and you immediately want to take back what you said. “I promise you that I won’t.”
“How do you know that?” You don’t think you could just forget the words that he’s saying to you.
“Because I didn’t just start feeling this way.” Relief surges through your body, and you can feel the tears start to prick at your eyes.
“Really?” You really won’t be able to handle it if this is all a side effect of the fever.
“Really.” He assures, brushing his thumb in soothing circles on your hand.
“Well, lucky for you, I happen to understand why you acted like you did and I think that you deserve me. I’m the one that doesn’t deserve you.” You had never thought that Harry would like you as any more than a friend, even before you actually met. All your friends had told you that you guys would be great together, you just had to meet him. You always had your doubts, though.
He scoffs, “Yeah, alright, we can pretend that’s true. You’re literally perfect.”
Your heart expands at his words, how does he always seem to know exactly what to say? “So are you, H. I’ve seen it for a long time, just didn’t wanna be the girl that loved you even though you hated me.”
HIs eyes widen and a smile covers his face. “You love me?”
“I’m getting there.” You admit.
“Come here.” He gestures for you to get closer.
You scramble towards him, getting as close as possible without physically climbing into the tub.
He leans in, closing the gap between the two of you, letting his lips ghost over yours for a moment before you pull back.
“Let’s rinse out your hair and then finish up and I’ll kiss you for real, alright?” There’s no way that you’ll be able to kiss him the way that you want to while he’s still sitting in the bathtub.
He nods and lets you continue. You rinse the conditioner out of his hair, then get up to leave the bathroom so that he can get dressed. Before you can walk away though, he grabs your hand and pulls you back. He makes a kissy face and you lean down to peck his lips, knowing that he’ll just pout until you give in.
Moments after you exit the bathroom, he walks out looking completely perfect. You can see the tiger tattoo on his thigh, and you make the mental note to kiss over it later.
“Kissy?” He asks, coming towards you and wrapping his arms around your waist.
You sling your arms around his neck, slotting your hands into your hair. You nod, leaning in to kiss him, for real this time.
He wastes no time in kissing you back, this one holding a lot more passion than you ever thought a kiss could hold.
Your lips are molding with his, fitting together like they’re the missing piece that you needed to complete your puzzle.
His tongue slides over your bottom lip, asking permission, which you gladly give, opening your mouth and letting his tongue explore.
You pull away after a moment to catch your breath. Looking up at him, you see everything that you had been missing. “Promise me this doesn’t change when we go back to our real lives.”
He brings his hand up, cupping your cheek. You lean into your touch. “I promise you that, as long as you’ll have me,” he kisses your forehead, “I’ll always be right here to tell you that you’re beautiful,” your temples, “that you’re all I can think about.” your cheeks. “And, as long as you’ll let me, I’ll kiss you over and over again.” He finally lets his lips glide over yours again.
After he pulls away, you breathe, “Good, because I don;t think I’d be able to go back to normal after that.”
“Neither could I.” He assures you. “Come on, love, let’s go lay down.”
With that, you crawl into bed next to Harry, cuddling into his side. After a moment, he decides you're not close enough, pulling you in until your head is on his chest and your leg is thrown over his thighs.
You smile in content as he kisses your forehead. Who would have thought that you’d be in this place, with him? Never in a million years could you have dreamed this up for yourself. And honestly, if someone had told you a mere weeks ago that you would be kissing Harry and falling asleep next to him, you would have laughed in their face, probably even asked them if they had gone mental.
But now, here you were, laying cuddled up with the man that makes your entire world seem to light up, and you couldn’t be happier. It had been a rocky road getting here, but you would go through that day on the yacht a million times as long as you ended up back here, held tightly in his arms.
Listening to the beat of his heart, to the way that his breaths are evening out die to the comfort that having you near him brings, you drift off to sleep
*
You’re being shaken awake much too earlier, and you turn to gripe at whoever chose to wake you up. But then you realize that it’s Harry, and your face immediately softens.
“Hey, you.” He says, pecking your nose.
“Hey, why are we up so early?” You grumble.
He chuckles. “We’ve got a plane to catch.” You audibly groan, probably a lot more dramatic than it has to be. “Come on, it’s time to get out stuff together. Gotta go back to the real world.”
You sigh, not wanting to go, but you know that you have to, so you stumble out of bed and get all your stuff together.
You scramble to ensure that everything’s ready, even making sure that you clasp your new necklace on your neck and slide the new ring on your finger.
Once you zip up your bag and stand up, wracking your brain to make sure that everything is in order, Harry comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you. You immediately lean into his embrace.
“You look really fucking cute in my clothes.” He mumbles, pressing his face into your hair.
“Why thank you, never got your tour hoodie, thought I’d see how it looked.” You smirk, knowing that you had, in fact, received a tour hoodie, you just hadn’t worn it yet.
He says nothing about that, though, just groaning, “It looks fantastic.” before pushing away from your body.
“Are you ready?” He asks, looking over all the packed bags, and then over to you. HIs eyes stop at the ring around your neck, heart swelling in pride that you’re wearing his ring.
“Yeah, don’t wanna go, but I know I have to. I’ve gotta go back to work.” You groan.
“I meant what I said last night, you know?” He blurts, and you can’t help but feel relieved. He had been acting like he meant it, but the verbal confirmation made you feel even better.
“Which part?” You say, playing coy.
“All of it.” He promises. “Every single word.”
You hum in content, walking back into his arms and pressing into his chest. “I mean what I said too.”
You pull away after a moment, walking to pack your stuff into the car.
After dropping off the rental car and going through the motions of getting ready and boarding the plane, you finally sit down, right next to Harry. This time, though, you aren’t dreading the plane ride.
*
After the plane lands, Harry throws you his keys, telling you that Sam and Lexi were supposed to have dropped the car off with his extra set an hour prior. He assures you that he’ll get your luggage.
“I can tell you’re tired, sweets, go on to the car, okay?” You nod in agreement before heading out to the parking lot to find his car.
On the ride back to your apartment, you doze off in the passenger seat, his hand on your knee and fingers tracing random patterns lulling you to sleep.
He wakes you up by kissing all over your face, and you must admit that it’s probably the best way for someone to wake you up. Well, not just anyone, just him.
He gets your bags from the trunk, walking you to the door. As you’re about to go inside, he kisses your cheek, letting his mouth linger there for a moment. “Can I come over later? Gotta put up my stuff and check the mail, but I wanna see you again.”
You smile. You’d like to see him again, too. “Yeah, sure. Just come over whenever.”
He leans down and gives you a quick peck on the corner of your mouth before heading home.
In the time that you’re alone, you put everything away that you ended up not wearing and throw the dirty clothes in the wash.
As you’re fixing yourself dinner (which is arguably enough for two, but that’s just a coincidence...maybe), you hear a knock on your door.
You rush over, checking through the hole to make sure that it’s Harry. When you open the door, he immediately sweeps you up into a hug. “God, I missed you.”
“You were gone for less that three hours, H.” You breathe.
“I know, but I still missed you.” He pulls back from you slightly, still keeping his arms wrapped around your waist. “Am I not allowed to miss my girl?”
Your heart skips a beat. “Your girl?”
“Um, fuck, I- you don’t have to- don’t feel pressured.” You cut him off by placing your lips on his.
“Calm down, H.” You urge.
“It’s just, I don’t know, do you want to be my girlfriend?” He asks, eyes looking down between the two of you at his shoes.
“God, yes.” You clear your throat, realizing how desperate you probably sounded. “I mean, yeah. But I’m not gonna be able to be like all your other girlfriends were.”
“What do you mean by that?” He wonders.
“I can’t just drop everything and come with you while you’re on tour.” You give him an apologetic look. You know how much he loves having his girl with him while he’s performing. “I can’t go on excessive vacations with you, and by excessive I mean for months at a time. I don’t get paid to stand around and look pretty like the rest of them did.”
“I don’t want you to be like the rest of them were. I want you to be you.” He says, stroking your cheek with his hand. “Plus, I mean, you could technically come on tour with me as part of my crew if you wanted.” He suggests. “Be one of the photographers, or help me get everything ready. That could be your new job if you were interested.”
“Harry, I couldn’t ask you to do that.” You argue. “That’s just another person that’ll have to be paid. I didn’t do anything to get those positions anyway.” You know that all of the people on his crew were exceptionally talented, and that just wasn’t you.
“You let me see how wonderful you are at photography, that’s what you did.” You’re surprised that he remembers that. You had only shown him your work once. And it was the only time when the two of you were enemies that he didn’t have anything rude to say.
“H…” You’re still not sure about the idea. Of course, it would be fun, but you really have no business being there.
“Please? I don’t think I can go months on end without seeing you.” He whines. “I could barely go three hours.”
“Fine.” You give in. “But only if I get to stand in the audience and watch the show at least a couple times.” You had always wanted to see one of his shows from the audience, to see how well he interacted with everyone.
“Deal.” He says without hesitation.
“Alright, fine. I’ll go.” You concede. He does a mini celebration, shimmying his body slightly.
“You wanna go tell our friends after dinner, baby?” You suggest.
“Baby? I like it.” He says, blushing because of the pet name.
“I mean, you are my boyfriend now.” You reason, but also just liking the way that it sounds coming out of your mouth.
“That’s true, love. And yeah, let’s go tell our friends after dinner.” He leads you to the kitchen, fixing the both of you a plate and sitting down with you to eat.
*
After you clean up from dinner, you head out to the bar that your friends told you to meet them at.
You walk into the bar hand in hand with Harry. He sits in the booth first, dragging you in after him.
“Do you wanna tell them?” You lean in and whisper into Harry’s ear.
He just nods, turning to Lexi and Sam. “Um, guys, we’re kinda, um, dating.”
“Okay.” Sam says. Lexi nods, looking completely unfazed.
“What?” How are they being so calm about this?
“We figured it would happen. The chemistry between the two of you is impeccable. You had more passion towards each other when being dickheads than either of you have for anything else. It was just a matter of time.” Lexi explains, as if it’s completely obvious.
How they knew it was going to happen, you have no clue. You couldn’t even see yourself ending up with him. But maybe it was because you didn’t have the outside perspective.
*
A few months later, you’re on a tour bus to the first venue, and you can already feel the adrenaline running through your veins.
The very first show, you watch from the audience, taking in the scene. Seeing how his fans react, how he works the audience.It was good to study the subject before photographing them.
Also, though, getting to watch your man live his dream is pretty exhilarating. And getting to go along for the ride with him is even better.
*
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Choose Me
Pairing = Richard x GN reader
Words = 1.4k
Summary = You meet Richard at a fancy-dress competition
Warnings = some mistakes, I wrote this quite quickly
A/N = Prompt no. 18 requested by @phoenixhalliwell as part of my 300 follower celebration, thanks so much for the request, hope you like it! Prompt was “Choose me” w/ Richard and bolded in text. First time writing him, hope it’s ok!
Posted to AO3
Masterlist
***
Fancy dress competitions were the worst.
And your sister, Hannah, had decided to throw a fancy dress competition in her garden, all to raise money for charity. Which meant you couldn’t complain and you had to make an effort.
It was all part of an annual summer party she threw, starting in mid-afternoon, finishing late, with children running around, a barbeque for the food, and a couple of games. And this year she’d also chosen to do fancy dress. Conveniently she was exempt, because she was going to judge.
When you’d asked why you couldn’t judge, she told you “Too many cooks spoil the broth.” And also that “it would be embarrassing if the host’s family didn’t dress up!” But apparently not that embarrassing, because neither she nor Hayden, your brother-in-law, had dressed up.
It wasn’t the dressing up that bothered you so much, more it was deciding what to wear. What if everyone else had much better ideas, or went along with a theme, or…?
In the end you’d chosen a simple costume, finding a ghostbusters jumpsuit in town and deeming it to be good enough. You were regretting all your life choices at the moment, however, the sun beating onto your shoulders in the late afternoon heat, and you were sure that your tank top and shorts underneath were soaked in sweat.
The garden had been decorated nicely, bunting around the boundaries, fairy lights pinned up for later in the evening when it turned dark. But for the meantime, you were left standing next to a stranger who was more interested in talking to the person on their other side, leaving you feeling like a lemon, standing there, not knowing anyone.
You glanced back to the darkness of the kitchen, where it was no doubt much cooler, and aimed a glare at where you were sure Hannah was standing. What was taking so long you had no idea, but you could see her talking to someone else.
Your nieces, nephews, and their friends milled around in front of you, a couple chattering about the merits of each costume in amusing seriousness while they ate the treats available. Hayden was playing a game of football with a couple of kids in the shade at the other end of the garden and you huffed in impatience.
Hannah had claimed she’d choose a fair, impartial judge (and you ‘didn’t fit that criteria’, when you’d opened your mouth to argue), someone she knew from work, she’d said, but you weren’t prepared for who stepped out of the kitchen with her. The first thing you noticed was his moustache, big, but neat. His hair was curly, and greying slightly, a stray curl flopping onto his forehead.
He looks nervous as the two of them step out of the house, and although you don’t care, you never did, about this competition, suddenly you really, really want to win.
They took their time going down the line, accepting donations from each of the entrants and marking something on their clipboards.
Finally, finally, they reached you.
“This is Richard,” was all you got by way of introductions as you handed over your donation. You gave him your hand to shake, smiling and telling him your name.
“Nice to meet you Richard.”
Hannah had already seen your costume, so she soon returned back to the cool darkness of the kitchen, so you walked up to Richard, where he was watching the football game, clipboard hanging at his side.
“Dare I ask who you picked as the best?” You ask, standing next to him.
“That would be telling.” He has nice eyes, you notice, dappled brown in the sunlight and with laughter lines at the side which crease as he talks.
“Choose me.” You say. “Choose me and…” You flounder for a second, flirting a strangely unfamiliar territory after so long without practice. “... and I’ll give you a kiss.”
Your eyes meet his before he ducks his head, a faint blush rising up his cheeks. “I … ok.” The words are quiet enough that you nearly miss them, but, regardless, you lean forwards and give him a quick peck on the lips.
You don’t give him a chance to do anything about it, drawing away, opening your eyes, and watching as he leans forwards slightly, trying to follow your mouth. You grin and Richard’s suddenly fascinated by the football game, shifting his feet, while you can’t help but grin wider. His lips were soft, and his moustache tickled you, but he moves closer so the backs of your hands were touching.
The rest of the afternoon is spent flirting, and you learn that both of you are rusty when it comes to flirting. The winner of the fancy dress competition is announced just before dusk after some passionate arguing between Richard and Hannah, before you are given second place, and the winner is a friend of Hannah’s, wearing an elaborately patterned Belle gown.
You can’t be bitter, she does look good.
“Sorry you can’t take back your kiss.” Richard has approached you this time.
You bite back a smile. “Maybe you could walk me home and kiss me properly as compensation? Away from all these children?”
Richard leans forward into your personal space as his eyes flick down to your lips, again. “I’d like that.”
So the two of you say your goodbyes, a short process considering you both know a combined total of 5 people at the party, leaving the glittering fairy lights and light music behind for the yellow of the streetlights and sounds of distant cars.
Hannah had given you an annoyingly knowing look as you’d said goodbye, hardly able to contain herself with excitement. “Coffee tomorrow?” may have sounded like a perfectly innocent request, but seeing as Hannah was just short of winking, you knew exactly what she wanted, rolling your eyes but nodding in agreement.
“I’ll text you,” you promise, already walking away, turning to go through the house, where you can already see the outline of Richard through the glass in the front door, waiting for you.
It’s cooler this side of the house, less people, and a lack of fire, but you prefer it this way. You didn’t dare take off your costume all afternoon, not even to wrap it around your waist, and the cool air feels light on your face.
The sky is clear and beautiful, stars peeking out between the glow of the streetlamps as you and Richard walk home. There’s still a faint glow of orange sun peeking over the horizon, casting deep purple above the two of you. You stay quiet for the most part, and you know that you’re too busy thrumming with anticipation to think of something to say, although you can’t speak for Richard.
“Well this is me.” You’ve made it to your house, and you suddenly think that you don’t want the night to end. Standing at the edge of your front yard, you glance back at the house. “Do you want to come in? For a … for a drink?”
When you look back at Richard, he’s stepped closer. “Better not,” he says, and you can’t help but feel disappointed. “Maybe I could take you out tomorrow night though?”
His voice is soft, and you bite your lip so you don’t grin like a fool, nodding your head. His eyes are starting to close a little, darting around your face, centering on your lips.
You close the space between you, pulling your arms around his neck and kissing him.
It’s ten times better than the one earlier.
His lips are still soft, but he takes more agency this time, biting your bottom lip, and when you open your mouth, eagerly dipping his tongue in. His arms are on your body, hands feeling like they’re running everywhere, like he can’t get enough of you, can’t believe he’s actually touching you.
It’s messy, and a little desperate, and you feel a bit like a teenager again, having to kiss out of sight of your parents. Your bodies are pressed against each other, and it takes all your self control not to wrap a leg around his waist. Richard’s pressing into you, and you can feel the weight of his stomach against yours, the way he purposefully keeps his hips away from yours.
Your hands thread into his hair, tugging a little when the two of you separate, gasping for air. “Meet me here at 7?” You ask. It takes a minute for him to remember what you were talking about before he nods, eyes sparkling in the growing darkness.
You steal another quick kiss before you leave him, and when you invite him in the next night, he doesn’t say no.
***
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No Más, O.Diaz
Summary: Oscars sends you away for the weekend to handle some business, but things seem a little out of place.
warnings: a n g s t
A/N: Ok but I feel like if Spooky has a gf she would be a ride or die type of girl and that’s giving me major ‘03 Bonnie & Clyde vibesss. Thank you for all the love! ❤️ Just hit +750 followers, I’m honored!! Again, I appreciate you taking your time to read my comment. Please don’t forget to: follow, heart, comment. reblog and turn on the notifs for alerts when I post, thank you so much!
(gif belongs to @merakiaes 🦋)
“It’s all about the Valentina, bebe.”
Oscar grabs the hot sauce that you had just placed in the shopping cart a few seconds ago. You let out a tsk as he placed it back on the shelf, reaching higher to grab the biggest bottle of extra hot Valentina.
He lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head as he continues on through the isle. Shopping trips with Oscar always consist of him ‘teaching’ you about the do’s and don’t’s of food/cooking. Which is why you don’t know why you bother joining him half the time.
“Must you run my life in the kitchen too? You already do that in the bedroom.” You pass him as he catches up to you, setting his hands on the bar of the cart besides yours which has your trapped. “And don’t you forget it, mamas. Trust me, Valentina on the raw oysters, as you say, chef’s kiss.”
You face defeat and nod in agreement. The shopping trip being better than usual. Oscar is playing around with you, making you laugh. It would’ve been a perfect trip if Oscar didn’t get a call mere seconds after checking out. Business, per usual. If it wasn’t you he was on the phone with, then it’s most likely gang related.
“Gracias.” He ends the call and unlocks the trunk of the infamous cherry red impala. You both load the car together, you keeping to yourself. The car ride back to his place quiet though he does rest his hand on your thigh, you high-key loving when he does that.
The both of you unloading the groceries and putting them away. Your mouth watering as you seen all the goodness that will be on the grill tonight. A night for just you two, you’ve been looking forward to it all week long.
“Sorry, bebe. I got some business to take care of with Cuchillos. I’ll make it up to you, promise.” Oscar’s voice sounds from behind you as you were gathering all the spices and ingredients he’d need.
You hold back letting out a sigh as you start to set back things in their places. He walks over to you and places his hands on your arms, planting a kiss to your shoulder. Oscar is no fool, he knows you’ve been looking forward to tonight but when Cuchillos calls, he goes no questions asked. Though lately he has been tired of her bullshit.
“I’ll order you some pizza, don’t wait up for me. I love you.”
He kisses your cheek as you keep quiet. He does wait a moment though for any response from you before leaving. When you hear the door close, you look around the empty kitchen, finally releasing the sigh you’ve held in. Though frustrated you didn’t want to escalate the situation, not when things have been going well between the two of you.
After blinking away the tears that began to pool, you put away everything and go for a shower. Oscar did indeed order you some pizza and after managing almost half of it, you turn in for the night.
When you wake the next morning Oscar is sleeping soundly besides you. A sleeping Oscar always makes you smile no matter what the circumstances. You lean over and kiss his cheek and get out of the bed to get your busy weekend cleaning started. It’s the Santo house, it’s never clean for more than 5 minutes.
As you start the day you make sure to make breakfast for Oscar and Cesar for when they wake. It’s rare to see Oscar sleep in but the meeting with Cuchillos must have been a serious one, considering the clock is close to 9:30 am. By the time the morning sun had approached its morning peak, Oscar and Cesar join you in the kitchen and get to grubbin’.
“Mano, let me talk with Y/N.” You hear Oscar say as you clean the counter-top. It didn’t sound like the normal ‘bounce foo’ that he’d tell his brother when he wanted just you and him time. But you carry on with your chores until you feel Oscar beside you.
You rinse the rag and lay it out to dry, turning to face Oscar who is now leaned with his lower back against the counter and arms crossed over his chest.
“Everything go okay with last night?”
“I need you to lay low for the next few days”.
You both say at the same time. You hear his words clearly and your face contorts as you replay what he said in your head and then out loud.
“Lay low?”
Oscar simply nods at you. You cock your head and switch your weight onto your other leg as you look at him for which he still hasn’t look at you yet. There is a moment of silence as you move around the kitchen again before speaking, “Why do I need to lay low? Something going down?”
From the beginning of your relationship you understood that for him, as the leader, the gang comes first and foremost. And so when things like carne asada gets postponed, you try your best to show little to no irritation or displeasure. You knew what you are in for. And yes, he never got you involved with his business, but for him to openly tell you something such as this meant something else.
“You don’t need to know, I just need you to lay low for a bit. Off the streets, maybe stay with Geny and Ruben for a bit. Or it’d be a good time to go visit your moms for the weekend.”
Oscar keeps his eyes trained on beyond you as you stand across him, leaning against the other counter. Eyebrows knitted, he finally looks you in the eyes. He sees the confusion in them, the desperation to know. It gives him the urge to smile a little because in the beginning of dating, you were so clingy to him like a Koala to a tree. You loved being with him, you would whine when you weren’t with him and he can see the worry in your eyes on why he wants you to lay low.
“Why would I need to go out of town this weekend? Oscar, what’s going on, hm? Is everything good with you and the Santos?” You ask stepping closer, still a couple of arms length away.
He purses his lips into a thin line, face contorting to irritation, “You don’t need to know like I’ve said. Can you just give me your word you’ll go?”
Your head tilts to the side as you try to read his face for any signs of anything. Something to tell you more than his words are but he holds the irritation, the one that you know all too well. Your chest rises and falls heavily as you nod, “I’ll go.”
He nods and wipes his hand over his mouth, looking around the almost clean kitchen. Oscar takes the rag and wets it before walking over the dining table to wipe down. It’s not that he never cleans but it takes more than just a desire to clean for him to do so, it takes nerves. It’s more of a distraction for him.
“I’ll go call my mom and book a bus ticket.” You announce walking over to get your laptop and phone, Oscar continues to clean as you head to sit on the couch and proceed with your sudden weekend trip. Despite your less than thrilled mood about this, your mother is thrilled to be having you.
When she asks if Oscar will be joining, you sigh and sadly reply it’s just you. As Oscar puts away the last of breakfast he eavesdrops on your phone call.
He can hear the sadness in your voice when you tell your mom that it’ll be just you heading out. His shoulders slump and his breath hitches in his throat. But he is uncertain what the next few days will bring and your safety has been one of his top priorities since the beginning of your relationship. So he shakes any emotions that could get in the way. Sending you off is best.
Unfortunately, the weekend has approached at speed lighting. Oscar parks his car across from the bus station, the two of you exiting the car and he being the kind gentlemen to carry your bag for you. It’s mostly quiet as you head over to the kiosk to print your bus pass. The 4 hour ride mocking you as stated on the ticket.
The bus is set to arrive in the next 15 minutes or so, though you were smart enough to pack some snacks and drinks, Oscar heads over to the food vendor to get you a breakfast sandwich and a smoothie.
Again, radio silence as you sit on the bench near the designated spot where your bus should arrive soon, “You sure you got everything?”
“Yup, though really I do have some clothes at ma’s so it was unnecessary for me to pack all this stuff. The only thing I do really need is your flannel so I thank you for that donation.” You giggle as you lean into him and kiss his cheek. You can feel his cheeks rise as you do so. “Which leads me to ask one more time... Is everything okay?”
He moves his arm from behind you and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, wringing his hands together. A knack of his when he has a hard time putting words together. The only other times you’ve seen him do it is when you both waited for time to move as the pregnancy test loading to determine your results, which was negative, and when he waited in the lobby of the hospital for one of his homies to get out of surgery.
You don’t push for an answer, you give him his space because you can really see how much he didn’t want you to go either. He had to put authority in his voice when he first asked you to lay low. For you, you know that there is more to this than he is leading on. For him, he’s sending you away because he doesn’t where this could all go and in the case that something should happen, you won’t be alone nor will you have to deal with any repercussions.
“It’s all good. Just got some shit to deal with and I don’t need you in the crossfire of it all. It’s the Santos and 19th street, too much to keep up with and the last thing I need is for you to get in the middle of it all. So you heading out of Freeridge will put my mind at ease.” He finally looks over his shoulder and at you, you watch him intently. You rub the back of his head where your hand rests at the nape of his neck,
The buzzing of your phone pulls your attention from him. Though you didn’t want to focus on anything or anyone else at the moment. It’s your mom calling, probably to check in on you if you’ve made it to the bus station alright and are ready for the lengthy commute, “Hey Ma...” You step away and pace talking to her.
After a quick chat, you hang up and sigh shoving your phone in the back pocket on your jeans. It takes all the strength you had to turn back around to face your boyfriend as you hear the bus approaching. God, this sucks. Oscar stands and holds your backpack in his hands, waiting for you to put it on. You do so and turn around, looking at him and studying his features, reaching out to feel his face.
“I love you.” Your voice but a whisper as he slides his hands over your hips and onto the top of your ass. The two of you with your bodies pressed together for a moment where everything around you melts away. You aren’t standing in a crowd of people, there are no buses or rancid smell of exhaust. It’s just the two of you. Oscar leans down just as you lean up to connect your lips. Even after many kisses you’ve shared you always smile into it as his facial hair pokes at you.
The chaste kiss is held as you want this moment to last forever, all you want to hear is him to tell you to stay. Fuck all this and stay. Or even forget all this and let’s run away together. Oscar has thought of that one too many times but you can’t run from your problems, it’ll only create more. So you kiss each other and forget that you have to board a bus for just a second longer. You have your hands pressed to the sides of his neck.
He sighs as your lips break apart, his eyes filled with tears. And for this moment he doesn’t even try to hide that he is crying. That only adds to your worries.”I love you, bebecita. Mi vida y mi alma. With everything, mamas. I’ll see you soon okay, first in your dreams and then soon after.”
Your cheeks hurt with how hard you’re smiling. One more chaste kiss and he walks you to the entrance of the bus, you take step up and look back at him. He gives you a side smile as you ascend up the last few steps and the doors close together. It feels like a goodbye, a real one. The one that meant it’s the last goodbye. But you tell yourself to stop thinking the worst as you see him get smaller and smaller when the bus begins its trek.
The cool air gives you chills almost immediately when you settle into your seat. The next stop isn’t for another hour and a half, with the lack of people, there is no body heat making it colder than it would be if more were on. Thankful you took on his flannels so you reach in your bag to get it when your heart stops. The long pause before it takes it next beat.
His cross chain.
In all your time knowing Oscar he has always had it on. It’s almost as if it were apart of him. He didn’t even take it off when you, him and Cesar would go to the beach. Or when he’d shower yet here it is in your bag headed 4 hours away from him. You hold it to your lips and close your eyes.
“What are you doing, babe?” You whisper to yourself.
It takes all your will power, all your self preservation to not ask the driver to stop the bus. To not call Oscar and frantically demand him to tell you what the hell is going on that he needed to send you away with his chain. This just confirms that something is going down, something big.
Of course, Oscar is a smart man. He knows what he is doing. Hell, he’s been in this lifestyle since he was a young boy. And he has the Santos. This is the same man that walked into Prophet$ territory with 200k to trade for his brothers life. Even then he wasn’t certain he or Cesar would walk out alive. But he did it.
But he didn’t ask you to lay low then, so what the hell is he doing that he had to ask you to this time?
You take your chances and ring Cesar. Though you are certain that either his brother has told him to keep quiet of the situation or he’s already learned that the rucas shouldn’t be involved. The echo of the ringing is haunting.
“Y/N! Have you left already? Sorry I haven’t been home the last couple of days.” He answers cheerfully, you miss the kid already.
The ease in his voice allows to you ease into your seat, “I did, just left the station awhile ago. I know I shouldn’t being asking, but do you know what’s going on with your brother? He’s told me very little, which again I know it’s how it is but.. should I be worried?”
“Oscar is fine, everything is fine, Y/N. Just as it always is. No need to be worrying.” He reassures you, you body beginning to relax more as you looking down to your hand that is holding the gold and silver chain.
Perhaps Oscar left it with you because he knows how worried you are about him. This being a way to have him with you always even though the little spooky tattoo that rest below your left breast is a permanent reminder of him. You clutch the chain a little tighter, bringing it to your chest.
“Okay, I’ll try to. Just be careful, please? The both of you, okay? I’m trying not to bother him so can you tell him thank you for his chain, it’ll be nice to have with me while I’m at my moms.”
But Cesar doesn’t reply or laugh and Cesar is the type to be engaged in conversation. As you sit there with the phone pressed to your ear and no response from him, you shoot up from your seat. Your heart begins to race. “Cesar? Wha- why aren’t you saying anything? What?”
“His chain? He gave it to you?” He asks you.
Now your heart is beating triple time, “Uh yeah, well he didn’t hand it to me. He must of slipped it into my bag while we were at the station. I didn’t even notice he didn’t have it on when we kissed goodbye... Cesar, please tell me again that I have nothing to worry about.”
“Just trust that I’ll handle it. I’ll make sure that he is fine, he has me. And the Santos won’t let him get into something he can’t handle. Don’t worry, o-okay?” And for mere second you hadn’t but when he’s voice cracked. You knew that you couldn’t go,you couldn’t leave him.
“Stop the bus!”
taglist: @clemmingstylins0n @fairygardenss @firebenderwolf @spookysnena @princesstiffxoxo
#Oscar Diaz#oscar diaz imagine#oscar diaz x reader#oscar diaz x y/n#oscar 'spooky' diaz#spooky imagine#omb#on my block#on my block imagine#spookysmujer
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Enough is enough
I have been a member of Succulent Tart on WRA since roughly early 2017. My character Xepher has always been a performer and spoke well of the troupe in character. Whenever people asked me about the guild ooc, I told them to apply if interested and when events were. I partook in events whether performing, bartending or supporting and even purchased art to donate for raffles. But the reality was there was something else going on behind the scenes. From onset, I noticed the dreaded clique mentality that we all hate to see in rp communities. Especially when it comes to the elf circles. I remained quiet and watched, assuming that in time things would get better. When I did speak up, I was silenced or told that my points were irrelevant. Time went by and nothing got better.
What became increasingly frustrating for me was the guilds interaction with people of color and their cultures. The way it was erased from certain themed events they hosted or completely trampled over in other events. No one spoke up. No one said a thing. And when I looked around I saw that Succulent Tart people were everywhere, presenting this guise of pristine reputation so fans believed they could do no wrong. I recall a conversation in guild chat about why Black face references should only be used for Orcs or Trolls since there was no such thing as black elves. Meanwhile, I have ALWAYS roleplayed Xepher as a brown elf whose face reference is a black model from France. Not a single officer said anything to those people nor did someone speak up. That was just one instance of the many microaggressions that would go on in this guild. I couldn’t say or do anything about it because my point would be invalidated or I was told to be overreacting. And if I went to the public about, well then I was just a hater seeking to start drama.
What many of you don’t know is that Succulent Tart made those posts about BLM because I spoke out about it in general chat. Prior to all of this, nothing was mentioned in guild chat to let people know they were welcomed in this space. It was just assumed as white privilege has a funny way of doing that. The assumption was all felt safe in the guild from the perspective of many white members and officers. This gallery will showcase what happened in its entirety, from start to finish. The lie that so many in the guild cared and loved me when in reality they never wanted to hear my voice and never supported my endeavors. The chat images can be found here https://imgur.com/a/o12Y6NX . And the conversations after here https://imgur.com/a/JOoQM02 .
Some of you will recall I wrote a post about the new skin colors for elves and what this meant for the bigger picture. In the gallery above, a person attempted to make reference to my post as though the guild had done something so amazing for POCs in reblogging it. The irony of that reblog is that guild members spoke about it as though it was me giving them permission to roleplay black elves without guilt. They completely missed the point and did not understand at all what I was talking about. Also, I want to get something straight, that post was created as a direct response to something that occurred within the guild. Bella, an officer, stated that the lack of ducks in WOW was just as important as the new skin colors. Bella is someone who runs another guild called the Howling Owl and that wasn’t the last time she said something like this. I was provided screenshots of her response to a very real problem that is going on in the guild. All the proof can be found in this gallery. https://imgur.com/a/NhNkJwM
Furthermore, it should be understood that this presentation of understanding and support is meant to save face. This is why you all are seeing their BLM statements on the menagerie, fire fest, and guild tumblr pages. How can they speak to supporting black people and wanting to empower their voices when within their own guild they quite literally ostracized one? The post for the Fire Fest had a pride flag that didn’t have the brown and black stripes. A change that only occurred because I brought it up and it was later argued that it's relatively new so people may not use it. If anyone looked at the menagerie post for BLM you will see there is a quote from Angela Davis. Just the day before, I posted the same quote from her as she is someone I not only follow in philosophy but met and had discussion with in real life. So not only is there a silencing problem here but there is also a lack of credit? Of all the quotes to choose from you pick Angela Davis and that one of her many? Yeah right.
On June 5 I was approached by an officer from the guild to speak about what changes could happen. This was Alastren, the only officer who made a public statement to do better. The only one who came from a place of wanting to grow rather than defensiveness and fragility. This is an officer of the guild (who has now left) that said the group's echo chamber is problematic. I will include the gallery of our conversation because it speaks for itself. https://imgur.com/a/htamCSp
I will also include links to the guild leader Dice’s post and Alastren’s post for those of you who haven’t seen it for context. You can find Bear’s post on the twerk off and Rhillia’s post about the ‘Uldum Nights’ here for reference.
It was stated earlier that this guild shouldn’t be “condemned for a mistake”, the problem is this isn’t just one mistake. This is a deep rooted mindset that has been maintained for a very long time. The only difference is that now it is coming to light. There was an instance of someone calling the COVID-19 the Kung Flu and no other discussion was had about it after. So no, I’m not just going to sit tight and hope they change. Alot of people in that guild have privilege to not be concerned with what is going on and to try to just act like this will go away. I do not have that allowance. I never had and never will. Being in this guild was not a positive experience when all I did was give support and content to the guild’s purpose of entertainment and performances. I will not let this get pushed under a rug or forgotten. This shit is real and I’m exhausted. I will no longer have anything to do with Succulent Tart and the Menagerie Boutique. You do not deserve my support when you can’t even earnestly support the cause of many.
@succulent-tart
#world of warcraft#world of warcraft rp#succulent tart#wow rp#wow rp character blogs#wyrmest accord#moonguard#poc rp#characters of color#poc fantasy#black empowerment#allyship#systemic inequality#white fragility#white guilt
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Rating: T
Chapter Summary: A month after Chat Noir learns Marinette's identity, they're just vibin'
Word Count: 4388 | Chapter 2/2
Notes: Written for @chatnoirinette through the @mlbforblm charity drive! The donations go directly to Color of Change, an organization for racial justice. I highly recommend checking them out and reblogging/donating the mlbforblm posts if you’re able! I have two fic request slots left as of 7/17/2020, and many other talented writers and artists are offering incentives as well
XXX
Marinette glanced over her shoulder for what had to have been the thirtieth time. Outside her bedroom window, stormclouds were gathering over the glittering skyline. What if the weather was too dangerous for Chat to come visit tonight? Or what if he’d gotten held up with something in his civilian life? That happened too often, though he probably spent every moment he could with her now. It was oddly comforting that he wanted to be around her so much, even if it was just keeping her company while she worked on homework, or deciphered the grimoire, or let the kwamis out for some fresh air.
Despite seeing him practically every day, she still managed to miss him.
“He’ll be here,” Tikki said from her perch on top of Marinette’s mannequin.
She sighed. “That obvious, huh?”
“You almost pinned the collar to my leg.”
Oops. As it was, the she’d bunched up the collar of Juleka’s dress all wrong. She’d have to remove the pins and smooth it out again unless she wanted the fabric to pucker in her sewing machine.
“Sorry Tikki. I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately.”
She’d survived with only seeing her partner during akuma attacks and patrols for two years now. But in these few weeks since she’d accidentally revealed her identity, she’d come to rely on him more than ever. Maybe too much, honestly. She had no idea what civilian responsibilities he was carrying on his own.
Well, she had a guess, but that was better left unsaid until she knew for sure.
You could always ask him, she thought for the thousandth time, but banished it just as quickly.
A tap at her window made her jump and prick her finger. Even startled as she was, guilty relief flooded her. Tikki was right; he’d shown up anyway.
She sucked on the sore spot as she ran to open the window. “You know Papa would let you in the front door.”
“But then I’d miss getting to see you in your natural habitat, Bugaboo.” Chat Noir grinned as he swung himself in. Luckily it hadn’t started raining yet. She didn’t want her room smelling like wet cat.
“My ‘natural habitat’ has too many pins on the floor.” She scrambled to pick them up before he ended up stepping on one. His boots would have protected his feet, but he was polite enough to remove them every time he entered, even though she’d never asked him to.
At least, she’d never asked Chat. That was one of her flimsier evidences for his identity, though.
“I like it. It’s cozy.” He plopped down on her chaise, which he’d claimed for himself weeks ago. Not that she minded. She kept that space clear for him, even when fabric and thread was piled on every other surface.
“What about your room? Is it this ‘cozy’?” She asked. It was an innocent question, not overtly fishing for information on his identity.
“Nah. I’m not allowed to… I have to keep things tidy.” He frowned.
Another piece towards her theory. She’d add that note in the conspiracy page she’d webbed out in her diary.
“Oh! I’ve got something for you!” He untied a plastic bag that he’d hung from his belt. “It, um, might be a little bit squished, but hopefully it’ll still taste good.”
Her eyes widened at the small box of cupcakes he presented to her. The frosting was pale pink, with wobbly dots of chocolate arranged to look like the spots on her yo-yo. They were a little smushed, but still in remarkably good shape for having traveled with Chat across Paris. She popped off the box’s translucent lid, giggling at the tiny pigeon stickers at each corner of it.
He winced. “They look terrible, don’t they? I know I’m not as good at baking as you, but Mr. Ramier helped so I thought they might be kind of okay—”
“They’re perfect.” She wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. “You didn’t have to make me anything, Kitty.”
“I know, but I wanted to. Since you’re always sharing your delicious pastries with me—”
“Maman and Papa make most of those.”
“—and because you deserve something nice, and you refuse to let me buy you anything.”
Her face warmed. Before she’d put that rule into place, he’d tried to bring her a present every time he visited. Considering he visited a lot, that would have taken a toll on his wallet.
Unless money wasn’t an issue for him, of course.
Stop that, she told herself. She could hardly deny her feelings for Chat anymore, but she couldn’t keep muddling them with feelings for her first crush. Not until she knew for sure they were one and the same.
Now if only she could stop being a coward and ask him.
“W-well thanks,” she said quickly. “You better help me eat them.”
He winked. “Can do, Princess.”
Before they dug in, she bundled her fabric away and pulled out the Miracle Box from its hiding place next to her sewing machine. It was the perfect spot, now that she’d learned how disguise it as an extra sewing box rather than that Ladybug-themed egg-thing. She’d never have been able to keep that a secret.
“Who’s coming out today?” Chat asked. He’d sprawled on the chaise with his hands propping up his chin. Tikki had nestled herself in his hair, eating half of a cupcake and scattering crumbs in his golden locks.
The kwami would probably enjoy Chat Noir’s visits more if Plagg was allowed out for her to play with. Plagg would devour all of her parents’ cheese-filled pastries, and Marinette… Marinette would have to look into her partner’s unmasked eyes and admit she was still half in love with someone else.
Unless she wasn’t. But what if she was? A few hardly-lucid dreams and wishful evidence weren’t proof that Chat Noir was actually Adrien.
She shook her head. That train of thought could do donuts in her brain if she didn’t pull the brakes.
“I was thinking Kaalki and Pollen.” She wasn’t up for any of the rowdier kwamis tonight, even with Chat helping her “babysit.” Plus the two of them liked sweets; they’d appreciate the cupcakes.
She pulled out the hair comb and glasses, and Chat Noir excitedly put them both on. The miraculouses somehow managed to make him look both dorkier and cuter at the same time. Maybe that was just because he was at his cutest when he was being a dork.
Tikki smiled wide as Kaalki and Pollen appeared in flashes of light.
“Oooh, someone glorious and famous.” Kaalki flew in circles around Chat Noir’s head, nudging a few of his tufts of hair with her hoof. “You would make a fine holder. Plagg wouldn’t be up for a trade, would he?”
Chat blushed beneath his mask, making Marinette giggle.
“Uh, sorry, but I’m going to have to say neigh to that.”
Pollen covered her laugh in her hands. Kaalki just harumphed.
“Fine. Your sense of humor is far too unpolished anyway.”
Glorious and famous. Kaalki might have been talking about his status as a hero of Paris, but Marinette still made note.
They fell into their usual routine, Chat Noir entertaining the kwamis by answering their questions about the world while Marinette went back to work. The steady conversation was a better backdrop than any white noise or instrumental music playlists. She only wished she had time to join them. Unfortunately, she’d put off this dress for too long. She only had a week before Juleka wa supposed to model the floral sundress at the school’s ameteur fashion show, and who knew how many akumas would strike between now and then?
Marinette was just getting ready to transfer the fabric from the mannequin to her sewing desk when she heard Pollen ask Chat, “How are things between you and your Princess?”
The pins slipped from her hand. She barely noticed a couple pricking into her slipper.
Chat had sat up straight since the last time she’d glanced back, and the nervous yet hopeful smile on his face threatened to melt her.
“Uh—well—how are things between us, Marinette?”
Her mouth briefly forgot how to make words. She knew what Pollen meant; Tikki and her gossiped about Marinette’s love life all the time. Maybe she shouldn’t have let the bee kwami out tonight.
“Well, um.” Her fingers twitched nervously against the fabric of her pajama pants. Say something, Marinette! “We’re—we’re best friends, right?”
She wanted to shove her fist in her mouth. How many times had she died inside over Adrien calling her just a friend? And no matter who Chat was beneath the mask, she didn't want to obscure her true feelings for him.
But his face still lit up even brighter. “I’m your best friend?”
“Of course, Kitty.” She sat on the chaise, scooting close to him. Probably closer than even a best friend should, but it wasn’t like Chat was shy about personal space. “I don’t let just anyone climb in my window, you know.”
“Awwww,” Pollen sighed while crossing her hands over her heart. Tikki gave Marinette a knowing look, which she pretended to ignore.
Then Marinette shoved a cupcake into her mouth before she could say anything more incriminating.
Chat blinked. She wondered if he was impressed—that cupcake had been about the size of her fist. Guess she could’ve fit her fist in her mouth after all, but at least the cupcake tasted better.
“Thesh ah really goo’.”
...Well, she said she wouldn’t say anything incriminating. She’d never ruled out saying anything stupid.
Chat Noir laughed. “For a Princess, your table manners could use some work.”
She swallowed about half the cupcake. It was really good, thick and chocolatey with a hint of strawberry. It probably would’ve tasted better if she’d taken the time to savor it. But the loss was worth it for the look on his face.
“No table manners allowed. Only vibes.”
He blinked before bursting out a real laugh, fuller and brighter than the one before. One that she was sounded strikingly familiar—especially with the backdrop of rain hitting the window behind them.
That truth cracked like a flash of lightning.
“You’ve been hanging out with Nino too much.” He wiped a claw under his eye, flicking away a few drops of water.
It was him. It had to be him. She’d recognize that laugh anywhere.
“Princess, what’s a ‘vibe’?” Pollen asked.
“I believe it’s like a, like a feeling,” Kaalki answered over the sound of Chat’s cackle. “Perhaps there’s a kwami of vibes? Or would that fall under Duusu’s domain?”
Marinette was too stunned from the whiplash of Adrien’s laugh and Pollen’s question to actually answer.
“Sort of,” Tikki interjected instead. “Marinette and her friends sometimes talk about vibes like they’re feelings, but they also use ‘vibing’ as an action. I’m still not really sure what that means though. Maybe we should Google it?”
When she sat on Marinette’s computer keyboard, the desktop collage of Adrien’s photos flashed on the screen. Marinette almost lunged for her kwami in horror, but Chat was still laughing too hard to notice.
“Princess—what’s a—what’s a vibe?” He got out between tears.
Then he actually doubled over far enough that he toppled off the chaise—which made Marinette laugh so hard she choked on her remaining cupcake.
Adrien was dressed in a catsuit, literally rolling on the floor laughing. That was more hilarious than even the kwamis trying to understand teenage slang.
“Marinette? Are you okay?” Tikki hovered up to her face, her blue eyes filling Marinette’s vision.
She giggled again, coughing out crumbs stuck in the back of her throat.
“I’m—I’m straight up vibing!”
With that, she too rolled off the chaise and fell on top of Chat. He yelped before giggling again, wrapping his arms around her.
“Spare vibes, Princess? Spare vibes for a poor vibeless kitty?”
“Ack!” She flailed as he tickled her sides. “Nooo, stop! You’re stealing all the vibes!”
“Were vibes in the cupcakes?” Pollen whispered to Kaalki, prompting another giggling fit from both Marinette and Chat Noir.
“Maybe it’s a secret,” Kaalki replied. “Like a code. For when the two of them want to do… whatever this is.” She waved a hoof towards where they were tangled together.
It was only then that Marinette realized what this would look like. And the fact that the floor wasn’t that thick, and her parents might hear something any minute.
Not to mention the fact that Adrien was tickling her.
“I, um, need some air!” She burst, scrambling off from his chest.
“Huh? Wait, Marinette!”
He reached out a hand, but she’d already bolted up her ladder and shoved open her skylight.
Which, of course, let rain dump right into her bed. Oops.
“What was in those cupcakes?” She mumbled, climbing onto her balcony shutting the skylight behind her.
She pressed her palms to her cheeks, trying to cool the heat there. The rain wasn’t doing a quick enough job of it, even though the spring shower chilled the rest of her to the bone. Had she flushed her last brain cell down the toilet? What was she thinking?
Of course, she was stupid with Chat Noir all the time. They’d challenged each other to handstand contests, dared each other to eat spicy peppers, even one-upped each other’s Hawkmoth impersonations. Chat might be Adrien, but that meant Adrien was still Chat. Knowing his identity didn’t change the fact that he was her ridiculous partner.
“Marinette?” A blond head poked out of the skylight. The glasses were askew on his nose; the golden hair comb had almost fallen out. “If you want me to leave, I can. You don’t need to stay out here and get soaked.”
It was a bit late for that. Even though she had ducked under the awning, the rain was blowing practically sideways. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. Why had she worn her pajama tank? Not that it mattered; Adrien had seen her in it before. She could hardly embarrass herself more than she already had.
“N-no, of course not! I just thought, we were being kind of loud, and it’s late, and since you didn’t come in through the front door…”
Chat winced as he climbed out onto the balcony to stand beside her. Just a few seconds out in the rain, and his hair was already plastered to his forehead in a wet mop. The glasses were too splattered to see through; he removed them and the bee miraculous with his free hand and put them in his pocket.
As for his other hand...
“Well, at least use this. It might work a little better than your awning.”
...He popped open the umbrella. Black and slick with rain, it brought her back to a moment two years ago. Different green eyes, but the same soft gaze.
“Of course you’d grab that one.” She couldn’t help smiling. It was the only umbrella she owned, and it had been sitting by her desk, but it still felt ironic.
She reached for the umbrella, but Chat pulled it back at the last moment.
“Wait, it’s broken, isn’t it?” He squinted up at its underside—
Just in time for it to snap shut on his head.
A laugh burst from her like a crack of thunder. “Come on, Ad—Kitty. It’s drier over here.”
He disentangled himself from the umbrella and followed her to the corner of the balcony, where the rain hadn’t quite snuck under the awning.
“Why do you have this old thing anyway? Looks like a piece of junk.” He twirled the now-closed umbrella like his baton, but fumbled it under her folding chair, where it promptly exploded open. Chat scowled. “Oh, I see how it is. When I want you to open, you only know how to stay shut. But when you’re out on your own you’re ready to party.”
The umbrella rolled slightly as it began to fill with rainwater. Marinette laughed as Chat continued to glare at it.
“Be nice to that umbrella. Someone very special gave it to me.” She stretched out her legs, letting her heels dangle in the puddles in the brick. Her fairy lights reflected in the water, casting the two of them in an ethereal glow.
“Oh, really? Should I be jealous?” He playfully wrapped an arm around her back. Every place he touched burned, even though she knew the gesture was just part of his jealous act.
She hummed as she leaned her head on his shoulder.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“...Oh.” She felt him deflate, though he infused his voice with fake confidence. “Well, good. I’m a pretty territorial cat, you know.”
Gently, she tugged on the bell at his neck until he met her eyes.
“You don’t need to be jealous,” she clarified, “because I know he’s you.”
Chat Noir’s—Adrien’s—eyes widened. But then his gaze softened, and he shook his head with a smile.
“I should’ve known you’d figure me out. You’ve already done it once in your sleep.”
She blinked. “I did? And—and I’m right?”
She’d been sure, but it was still another thing to hear him admit it.
And it was yet another thing to hear “claws in.” To see green lightning crackle over over him, unmasking Adrien’s tender face.
The electricity had barely faded before she flung her arms around him.
“Woah!” He laughed before hugging her back just as tightly. “You know, I think I should be jealous. You never hugged Chat Noir like this.”
“That’s not true. I definitely hugged you tighter after we fought the Scrambler last week.”
“Huh. I guess it just doesn’t have the same effect when I’m covered in egg whites. Or maybe it’s because the suit isn’t in the way now.”
She was all too aware of that. His bare hands were warm on her back, even through her pajama shirt. Her face was tucked in the crook of his neck, where she could drink in his scent unobscured by the leather suit.
“Sniffing me again?” He wiggled his eyebrows.
She flushed at being caught. Adrien her friend from school might not have called her out for it, but Adrien her partner of two years would. Well, two could play at that game.
“Oh, like you haven’t sniffed me before. Besides, I can’t help it that you smell radiant, carefree, and dreamy.”
He looked mortified. “That commercial was over a year ago! Even Wayhem forgot about that!”
“Wayhem probably didn’t watch it two hundred and fifty-five times.”
“...I can’t tell which one of us should be more embarrassed about that.”
“Probably me,” she admitted. “What was your point again?”
“Either we both get sniffing rights, or neither of us does. That’s fair.”
She laughed, nuzzling deeper into his neck. “Fine. But I probably just smell wet.”
He buried his nose in her hair and breathed in, tickling the part of her hair. “Don’t worry. You smell perfect.”
Maybe it should’ve been an awkward compliment, but he still found herself giddy over it.
“Thank you. You smell like cheese.”
“Hey!” He pouted. “What happened to ‘radiant, carefree, and dreamy’?”
“She gave you a compliment, kid. What’s more radiant than cheese?” Plagg asked.
Marinette nearly screamed. She should’ve realized he was there, but he’d blended into the shadows in the wake of Adrien’s detransformation.
“Plagg!” Adrien hissed. “Go inside with Tikki. We’re having a moment.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Plagg dismissively waved a paw. “You got any cheese in there for me, Pigtails?”
“Uh—Tikki can get you some cheese-filled pastries from downstairs. Don’t let my parents see you.”
“They’ll never know I was there. Unless they notice a plate of those delicious treats is gone.” The kwami grinned and dove through the floor.
Well, that was about all she could expect. Hopefully Tikki could keep him under control. If not, Marinette might have to fake a rat infestation.
“Sorry about him.” Adrien sighed. “He’s always like that.”
“Could’ve been worse. Imagine if you were stuck with Xuppu or Roarr as your kwami.”
He laughed. “Pretty sure my father would have grounded me for life if he saw the mess. Or he would’ve found out my identity. Probably both.”
Chat had been there the one day Marinette decided to let the monkey and tiger kwamis outside of the miracle box. She’d actually had to transform and use her Lucky Charm just to undo the damage.
“Speaking of which… I knew it was only a matter of time, but how did you learn my identity?” He asked. “If I need to be more careful…”
She shook her head. “It’s not that. I… I don’t know if I can even explain it. At first I thought it was just wishful thinking. Ever since we spent the night at Mr. Ramier’s apartment, I…”
She blushed and bit her lip. Getting caught sniffing him might have been embarrassing, but admitting this somehow felt more personal.
“What?” He asked. “Is it because I smelled the same as Chat and myself?”
“Huh? No—well, sort of? Maybe subconsciously.”
“Oh. That’s what you said while you were sleeptalking.” He shrugged.
“I guess that makes sense, since… well, I’ve been dreaming about you. Both of you.”
She took a deep breath. He was still waiting patiently, his hand softly stroking her back. If he didn’t think she was crazy yet, she guessed this wouldn’t change his mind.
“You were always the same person in my dreams. You’d switch back and forth between Adrien and Chat Noir. “Chat” would sit in front of me at school, or “Adrien” would help me bring down a scary akuma. Either way, it was always you.
“And then I couldn’t help looking for similarities when I was awake. I—I started writing down all the evidence I found. The time “Chat” almost beat me at Ultimate Mecha Strike was when I started to actually believe it. But what finally convinced for sure me was your laugh.”
She laced her fingers together in her lap to keep from fidgeting. All of it sounded weirder when she said it out loud. Almost like she’d been stalking him, sticking all of their casual interactions under a microscope.
“Wow,” he breathed, leaning back against the wall. “I’m flattered that you went through all that effort, but I don’t get it. The only reason I didn’t reveal myself sooner was because I was afraid it would put more stress on you, and you were already dealing with so much. Why didn’t you just ask me who I was?”
She stared into his eyes, watching the pastel lights reflect in them. He still didn’t know. All these secrets shared, all these weights lifted, and she still hadn’t revealed the one secret she’d wanted to confess all along.
“Because…” she licked her lips, “because I didn’t want to be wrong. If you weren’t Adrien—I didn’t want to project my old crush onto you. You deserve better than that. Though I guess it doesn’t matter now, since I wasn’t projecting after all, it is you and so I should. Just be able to say this.”
He blinked at her, but then his lips began to part in a slow smile.
“Are you saying…?”
“I’m saying I’m in love with you,” she blurted before she could lose her nerve again. “First Adrien you, then Chat Noir you, then just, well, you. So—so jot that down.”
A startled laugh escaped him before he squeezed her tight again.
“Consider it jotted.” He kissed the top of her head, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if she wasn’t going to dissolve at the faintest sign of lip-on-hair contact. “And in case it wasn’t obvious, I’m in love with all of you too. So you can jot that down.”
It shouldn’t have undone her. Chat Noir had confessed his love to her countless times. Granted, all of those times had been before their battle with Miracle Queen, after which he’d obviously tried to move on.
But he still loved her. She wasn’t too late.
Maybe that relief was what pushed her to grab the collar of his shirt in both hands and press her mouth to his.
Her brain screamed, but her lips slowly figured out what to do, particularly when Adrien got over his shock and kissed her back.
Adrien. Holding her in his arms. Kissing her back.
She wasn’t sure if the sound she heard was the rain or the roaring in her ears or just her internal screaming. But it didn’t matter. For the first time, they were really, finally together, no secrets or fears between them. That truth was just as sweet as the kiss.
He finally pulled back, the front of his shirt damp where he’d been pressed against her. From the wide grin on his face, he didn’t mind.
“Will I get that kind of kiss every time I tell you I love you?”
“I don’t know.” She tapped her lips. “It might be worth finding out.”
“I love you, my La—”
She cut him off with her mouth on his.
All that time waiting, every failed attempt at confessing her feelings, slipped away like the rain off the slick balcony railing.
When the sky finally cleared, she woke to them tangled together, slumped against that same railing. She had a crick in her neck, and she’d probably end up with a cold from sleeping in her wet clothes. But it still felt worth it to look up into Adrien’s blissful face. Somehow she’d woken up before him—probably because her clothes had been more uncomfortable, since his were dry where his suit had covered them.
“Are you going to give me any juicy secrets in your sleep?” She asked before kissing the side of his jaw.
His only response was to hum and hug her.
“I guess that’s a no.” She chuckled. “No fair. I shouldn’t be the only one embarrassing myself in this relationship.”
Relationship. She could’ve exploded into confetti just thinking about it.
“Mmm… love you… m’lady.”
Her breath caught at his slurred voice.
“...Well I guess I can’t complain about that.”
She rested her head back on his chest, and let the dripping remnants of rain from the gutters lull her back to sleep.
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Racism in Education
June 27, 2020
Day 6 of 7
[ These are just some thoughts I have in my head about this topic, it isn’t meant to be a purely academic discussion. It’s meant to be a conversation to learn about another perspective. ]
—-
Ok this will be my most challenging post. This is a long read but I’d appreciate you reading it all because I’ve been doing free emotional labor for almost a month and if you want to be an ally, that means learning from other perspectives. So please read. This drained me so much to write, please make it worth it.
You have the time, please read.
As I stated in my intro, I moved from a very conservative State (I don’t even want to say the State because I hate it so much.) to Washington State. I moved after graduating online school a year ago.
Growing up in that State I was almost always the only Black girl in my class. For my whole educational career. I hated when we would discuss the civil rights movement because I could feel my White peers staring at me, like I was the face of my race.
It was junior year that broke me.
I began the year optimistic. I always did, even though I had experienced racism before each year, pushing me to move to 4 different schools in 4 years.
I moved to a school in a rural area with a lot of mormons and maybe 5 Black people in the whole, huge school.
It was in September that my mental health plummeted. I don’t know why. I guess I was overwhelmed. I was in an AP US History class and there was work over the summer that everyone else did, but I didn’t. I had just gotten there, after all. I didn’t have the textbook. That class was such a heavy workload that we were having a quiz every other day, 1 test a week, and I was trying to study for a test that my peers had months to study for, and already took.
I attempted to take my life, but I knew I didn’t really mean it. I’ll be honest about that. I just wanted everything to stop so I could catch my breath.
I went to the ER on a Thursday night. My Mom drove me.
We sat in the ER for a little bit and then I was taken to a little room where a nurse came to talk to me. BTW I have never had a good interaction with a nurse.
This nurse came in and basically shamed me.
“You’re so young. You have your whole life ahead of you. You don’t need to do this to yourself.”
Yeah, no shit. I thought about that every day. My grades, getting into college, getting into law school.... that’s the point. I was overwhelmed.
She suggested that I punch a pillow if I “Got upset” because that’s what her daughter does.
Fuck off.
The Doctor came in and he gave me butterfly bandages and he was so much more understanding, shockingly. (I’ve shadowed Surgeons and Doctors and they can be a little abrasive).
I liked that the Doctor fixed me up. I liked having this wrap around my wrist. I felt like I could move on. Like I let something out.
The Doctor asked if I needed to stay at this place that dealt with cases like mine.
I said,
“No.”
I couldn’t have that on my record for what I want to do. So, I went home.
I took the Friday off and my Mom visited the school to let them know what happened. I was already preparing for pity.
I had to come in on Monday to set up a 504 (students with disabilities act) for depression. I don’t think I had depression, but whatever. I dropped out of AP US History.
They made accommodations for me: more time on tests, working in the library, more time on assignments, etc.
I want you to know that I did not touch those accommodations for 5 months.
I knew I didn’t need them. I maintained a 3.8 GPA.
I sat in a room with all 8 of my teachers (we had a block schedule 4 classes per day alternating), seeing all of them look at me with disgusting levels of pity.
They each talked to me in private saying things like,
“If you ever need anything, let me know.”
“I’m here for you.”
“You matter.”
I thought,
“Hm ok, that’s nice.”.
I went on for months without using my accommodations and practically wooping my “normal” classmates in intellectual discussions.
But then the casual racism I experienced was escalating.
First, in the beginning of the year, my AP US History teacher put his hand on my head and said to a student,
“If you really believe that, Faith would be a slave right now.”
(I don’t remember what the hell we were even talking about)
Then I got little questions/comments like,
“Why do you dress White?”
“Cracker is just as offensive as the n-word”
But now we were going into Black History Month. My new history teacher was an old White Man and we were talking about the civil rights movement, while in English we were reading “Black Like Me” with my blonde, Female, millennial teacher.
I nailed everything in the civil rights movement discussions. The teacher loved me. I nailed the conversations about “Black Like Me”.
But....I don’t know. The environment got really toxic. There was more racism, gaslighting, slurs. Every. single. day. It could break anyone.
I would be on the brink of tears in class every day.
Guess who didn’t notice?
All 8 of those concerned teachers.
They don’t give a shit.
My grades were still pretty good, but I started working in the library. I couldn't be around all of those racist peers.
While in the library, my counselor would come in and interrogate me.
“How long have you been in here?”
“Have you tried, really tried to go to class?”
Of course I tried! I felt like I wanted to be dead and so I left. That’s what the 504 Plan was for. Again, I hadn’t touched my accommodations for months so I thought maybe these grown adults would use their tiny brains and think,
“Huh maybe she needs help.”
But no.
I would go to the counselor almost every day and say
“I’m not doing well.”
And she’d ask,
“What does that mean?”
Ok...so I have to tell this Woman that I feel like dying but not at my own hand? Because she can’t use social cues and read my face stained with tears?
I couldn’t say anything.
She said,
“What can we do to keep you going here?”
I said,
“I don’t know”
Because that’s not my job.
Then it happened.
My history teacher was talking about affirmative action.
He said,
“If I worked at a bank for 30 years and went to work at another bank, FAITH would get a job over me because she’s a BLACK WOMAN. Do you get that? She covers TWO minorities!”
He said this while pointing his wrinkled finger in my face.
None of my peers said anything.
I replied with,
“Well, what are my qualifications?”
He ignored me.
He went on a rant teaching his opinions, not facts. So I wrote down what he said on sticky notes.
I called my Mom at break and asked her
“Is that racist? Do I do anything?”
I was so desensitized to racism I couldn’t tell anymore.
My White Mom, my awesome Mom said,
“YES.”
I went to the Vice Principal and reported the teacher and gave her the sticky notes.
The next day we got an email from the principle saying that the teacher said, he never said anything about me.
So I was a liar?
To get evidence, I recorded the whole next class. I was scared every minute that he would find out.
He didn’t. And he said more awful things.
I had concrete proof.
We told the Principal and he ignored me. My Mom emailed the superintendent (very high up person in the school district) and oh now he responds?
They basically said,
“We gave him a warning, he won’t do it again.”
Ok so he just will hide his racism now. Just remember, teachers legally aren’t allowed to teach their opinion. The Supreme Court deemed it unconstitutional to teach opinions.
I was still required to go to this racist Man’s class. I still answered every question he posed to the class and he recognized my intelligence.
So WHY?
WHY me?
The whole year he loved having me as a student and then....that?
Moving on to my English class.
We had to do a cultural experience trip and so my acquaintance and I went to the Black History Museum. Because I’m Nigerian-American. I do identify as Black though because everyone assumes it anyways, but I wanted to learn more about the history in my city.
We were required to make presentations talking about the experience we had. I decided to add a little twist.
I made a whole slide in my slideshow dedicated to every racist thing said to me in that class.
The slide was met with laughter because racism is just so funny.
My teacher said nothing.
So I, the student, the minor in the room, had to say,
“I see you laughing but this is why I’m leaving this school. This is serious.”
Nothing from my teacher.
Cut to maybe a week later and I was done. I was sitting in my English class about to burst. My acquaintance asked me,
“Are you doing ok?”
I replied,
“No. Absolutely not.”
A classmate checked in on me, while all my 8 teachers who actually knew about my attempt on my life didn’t.
We went outside and I decided to leave the school that day. Three weeks before summer break. I couldn’t be in either class anymore. I felt my brain rotting from being exposed to the absolute shit that those students/teachers would spew, every day.
I lost my 3.8 GPA
I lost my credits for the semester.
The racist teacher is still working.
I had to go online.
It happened again.
Another racist history teacher.
Wasn’t removed.
I graduated with a lower GPA.
Didn’t apply to my dream school.
I have the trauma seared into my brain. I’m terrified of taking another history class. Terrified.
Ok, that’s it. If you made it this far, thank you. It took me awhile to write this. I hope this gave you another perspective.
--
So....
discussion time.
Let me know what you think here
I’d like to hear from you since I delved into my trauma.
I don’t think I’ll ever tell this story again, it makes me sick and tired. But I’ll answer questions/asks.
If you have a lot of White guilt and wanna do something, you could donate some reparations to my venmo lol:
@faithrebecca1397 (last 4 digits are 4809)
or paypal
http://www.paypal.me/faithrebecca1397
Edit:
People are asking me if they can reblog this. YES PLEASE REBLOG. It’s important to let people know that all types of racism are alive and well.
#blm#black lives matter#education#academia#black women matter#discussion#racism#history#mental health
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Reply to @prurientpuddlejumper on this ask:
I’m sorry you’re frustrated or if I offended you somehow, but to be frank I don’t appreciate the tone you’re using here. However, to answer you anyway:
> they def meant the links to these alleged "online generators," because I am in the same boat as anon
First of all, unless you ARE that anon, I don’t think you can say they “def” meant anything, since they never came back to clarify, and I did try my best to answer them the first time, and I seemed to have helped since they didn’t come back to report any problems with my answer.
Second of all, “alleged”? That’s very rude. Just because you cannot see them on tumblr mobile, does not mean they do not exist. Plenty of other people have used them just fine, as evidenced by the many posts submitted to this blog. And as the last two people who’ve asked about mobile access before never came back with problems, I can only assume they simply went on the desktop site to use the generators instead of accusing me that it’s not accessible at all.
> post after post about how you updated the UI or whatnot with no link to the thing you updated
It was only two posts (so far anyway), and if you read them closely, you may have noticed I said I was only working on new updates, that they weren’t done, and that they aren’t out yet. And also that “the current generators are still up” so that people have a fully functional version of the generator to use, even if it’s not as pretty as the update is going to be. So no, there is no “link to the thing I updated”, because it’s not done yet. And as the point of the post was about the updates-to-come, I saw no need to promote a link to the generators that are currently available. Seeing as you want that though, I shall go correct those posts and link it, for your and future readers’ convenience.
I apologize for the misunderstanding, if I wasn’t clear enough about the updates being a work-in-progress. I was just trying to update my actual followers (of which I noticed that you are not one) that I was working on stuff, since this blog is usually pretty quiet.
> I REALLY wanna see it, and am growing increasingly frustrated about how much work you're pouring into this *thing* without giving mobile users any way to *access it*.
Again, I’m sorry this is frustrating to you, and you do bring up some legitimate feedback about the mobile accessibility. As I mentioned, I’ve answered at least two asks about this issue before, but since it’s been a few years and phones have definitely gotten more powerful I can look into developing a proper mobile version. But a lot of issues come up with making a mobile version, namely UI and responsive design (because I’d have to account for both vertical and horizontal orientation, and again I reiterate that UI design is hard), dynamic coding/image generation/data input/font importing and styling/etc., and how to save the actual generated image or at the very least the export/import save data for later use on a desktop browser. It takes a lot of work (more than most people realize, I imagine), so if you would like to help with that, let me know, otherwise you have no right to shame me for not making a mobile version, taking my time, or doing any of this.
As it is, you can actually still access the generator on mobile, just not tumblr mobile. You just have to go to a browser on your phone (there’s a reason my URL is so simple). However, as mentioned above, the template was not designed with mobile in mind, so all the fonts and effects and arrangement on the template itself just looks... not like it’s supposed to. Which, again, is part of the issue with the design, but at least you can access it on mobile, against your claims that you cannot.
Also, I mainly made this a desktop site because of how large the dimensions of the template are, in order to make sure the text is visible/legible even in the downsized preview image. Even when I view the template on my phone, I have to zoom in a lot, and with the current live version of the online generators, it would have made scrolling around to input data annoying. The PSDs, as well, would be inaccessible on mobile as far as I know (if Photoshop Mobile has improved enough to handle all the layers, masks, and effects, I’m unaware) so it was a conscious decision to make this whole thing desktop-only when I first started this blog several years ago.
> Even the "downloads" link you just shared just redirects back to this same page. Which is probably because you've hidden all the links away in "pages" which are completely invisible and inaccessible on the mobile app
It’s very much tumblr’s fault, and I really should have thought of that at first, but again, it was a conscious decision to make this a desktop site. Even if I made rebloggable/viewable posts with the links in them (which I plan to do soon, if only to satisfy mobile users like you), only the PSD download links would work (but again, not sure how well downloading PSDs work on mobile devices), as the tumblr app will still loop back to the blog, since the online generator is still one of those blog “pages”. And that is not changing for as long as I don’t have the time or money to host it on its own domain.
I can’t change the fact that tumblr mobile doesn’t automatically open blog pages in an external browser, so the only solution I can offer you is to take the extra step to copy the url and go into your mobile device’s actual internet browser, or just go to your browser and type in my URL manually.
If you actually couldn’t access the templates at all (which should not be an issue if you “REALLY wanna see it” given that not only did I offer you explanations and solutions for the tumblr app problem, but also that it IS accessible on desktop and you reasonably could have just gone on a computer) or had any other problem with them, I have made no stranger of myself and have always been open to help people. They have been polite or nice when they do talk to me, and I’ve always tried to be cordial in return. Your feedback is legitimate, and I appreciate it, but you really could have worded your implied suggestion a little better. And to be quite honest, I was offended by the rudeness of your reply, especially when you called my hard work a “*thing*”. Those asterisks imply a very negative tone, in case you weren’t aware.
I get the impression that you think that your demand will be fulfilled right away if you make enough fuss about it, but I’m not going to be manipulated or guilt-tripped because you feel bad. Maybe you don’t mean it that way, but you can “grow increasingly frustrated” all you want, because not only am I working on this for free, on my free time, and by myself, but I am also not doing this for you. You’re right that I am pouring a lot of work into this, as much work as any fan artist or fanfiction writer will put into their own works, and I’m very proud of it (both as it is now and what it will be in the future) and I have fun working on it, but this is not my job. And you’re not paying for a service.
I’m not working for anyone, and I have no reason to have made more than I originally did--originally I only made the student template PSDs for some friends, and the generator (which seems to be my most popular template, even though my original focus was on the PSDs) only came about because one of my friends didn’t have Photoshop. And I wasn’t even going to release either of them to the public, but I did, and the villain ones came over a year later because of this blog and the people who follow it. No one asked for a user interface update (in fact, more people have asked for a pro hero template), but I’m doing it anyway because I can and I want to. That’s all this boils down to. Also my free time (if you hadn’t noticed, everything on my blog runs on a queue, and when I do queue stuff it’s usually like 3am or so--including right now... it’s currently 5am actually) and motivation (I’m well aware of how few people actually use the templates compared to how many people follow and reblog the posts, and honestly it’s a little discouraging). So if I do make a mobile version, be aware that it won’t be coming out for a very long time. (Also, I think you’re the only one in several years who has complained about it, and you are literally 1 in... what, 3000+ people? Judging by the number of notes on the original post I made when I started the blog and my current number of followers. And again, you’re not even one of them. So to be honest, I’m really not motivated to work on this quickly.)
If you want it faster? Being nice when you show your interest helps, it’s how I got encouraged to make the villain templates. Though I never asked for much other than patience. Or at the very least, the respect any fandom content creator deserves--I may not be cranking out fanart daily or new chapters of a fanfiction weekly or anything, but I am still providing the fandom with something they can enjoy at no cost. And like reviews on fics or comments on art, many people have expressed that they’re grateful the templates and generators exist at all, unlike you, which is really the reason this blog continues to exist and the generators/templates to be updated with new and improved features. I could have just left my original template generator up there and abandoned it, but I know how it feels to find out a fanart you loved years ago was deleted or a really good fanfic was discontinued. So I’ll continue to work on it, and yes I’ll put mobile compatibility for the generators on my to-do list, but I’ll do it at my own pace.
Also I’m not making money off of this, but hey, if you wanna give me incentive that way, hop into my DMs or something and we’ll talk, but I’ve never asked for donations or anything and I don’t plan to. The generators and templates are free for use, and most of that is because of tumblr, which gave it a platform and a home. If I hosted it on its own domain, I’d need a means to pay for that, and I’m personally not invested enough to do that when tumblr is free and works well enough.
If you or anyone else wants to help change that, come talk to me, the ask box is always open.
Otherwise, please visit this blog page on a desktop browser or at the very least something that isn’t just the tumblr mobile app, because nothing can be done about mobile compatibility right now, and I’d hate for you to miss out on seeing the templates. Hopefully I can look forward to whatever you will create with it.
-archivist
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In the 2040s channel 4 is gonna release documentaries about the fuckeries happening right now and be like "why did no one stop this" and kids are gonna have to watch their parents mutter angrily about how they weren't old enough to vote and the older generations were apparently majority dumb bitches while slowly squeezing an apple harder and harder until it crushes in their hand and then those children will experience that weird feeling you get when you realise that your parents have seen some shit and had entire lives of complex experiences and emotions before the concept of even having a kid existed in their minds and anyway I'm just saying that I'd rather say "I fought against that as hard as I could in my position because fighting against injustice is always worth your time and energy, because, even if you don't manage to create huge change, you're still showing those who have been injusticed that they are not alone" than "I watched it all happen from the comfort of my home and then used my privilege to ignore it and focus entirely on my own life and my own future without putting even a minute of my time towards helping others" so here's some ways you can do that:
Give old books, cds, games and clothes to trustworthy charities (do research for this)
Encourage your school to organise fundraisers for charities associated with current major issues
If you do some fundraising for a trip/experience, see if you can raise a little bit extra for any charity you want
If you're in a stable financial position where you have the luxury to not count every penny, save change from small purchases or train/bus tickets to put in donation buckets (I tend to go for maximum £1 donation each time, unless it's something big like Children In Need or Comic Relief)
Reblog awareness posts of crises/people who need funds/injustices (eg wrongful imprisonment)
If you see someone you follow on social media is receiving a lot of hate/is in distress, send them a small message at least just to say you hope things get better, or maybe offering someone to talk to/asking if there's a way you can help - this will help them feel better, a small deed but a significant one! (eg a group-run lgbt account I follow on instagram was harrassed for a bit, so I just popped a short message in their inbox to show my support - got a message back of how much it meant that I'd put in the effort, etc)
On top of that, if you hear of a user/account who is harrassing someone, report ad many of their harrassment posts as well as their account
Educate yourself about minorities you are not a part of, or other types of minorities in a group you are a part of. If you can, find (minority)support accounts and ask them to clarify anything/provide extra information - they will be members of that community, and therefore have an important insight
Keep up with the big things in world news - this will help you know who is gonna need a bit more emotional support at least. If you personally know someone who is part of a targeted community, just ask if they're okay and offer some support (eg, when the pulse shooting happened, everyone in the lgbt+ community felt it and needed a little extra support - it helps to not feel alone when something that scary happens)
Take advantage of world awareness days/weeks/months! I usually do a post for mental health awareness on instagram on workd mental health day, for example. Encourage your school/work to acknowledge it in some way or another
Remember - don't feel pressured to do these things. If you are not in the emotional state to offer proper emotional support, you might just end up doing more harm to yourself and possibly others by trying (wait until you're in a better place and then follow up if you want to). If you aren't in the financial position to give money, there are so many other ways to show support. If it's unsafe for you to post about a certain topic, please do not put yourself in harm's way! If something (eg gun violence) is triggering to you, stay away from those topics as needed. "I was not in the position to be able to provide support without sacrificing my health or financial stability" does not equal "I decided it wasn't worth the time/money/effort and just ignored it even though I could've helped".
Add more if you want!!
#injustice#social injustice#rights#lgbt rights#blm#poc rights#feminism#women's rights#gender equality#social equality#race equality#love is love#pride#love always wins#charities#gun violence mention tw#gun violence mention#swearing#cursing#mental illness tw#pulse shooting#mental illness#poverty#financial instability#wrongful imprisonment#activism#disabled rights#equity#equality#politics
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Loceit?
Fitting In
“I still don’t understand how this happened,” Virgil said in a soft voice to Roman as the two sat on the couch with Patton. “It doesn’t make any sense.” Roman was lazily playing with Virgil’s hair, his fingers twirling the bangs between them. “It’s not logical,” Virgil said in a slightly harsher tone, moving Roman’s hand down so he’d pay attention.
“Since when has love ever been logical?” Patton said with a giggle. “I mean, look at you two.”
“What does that mean?” Virgil asked, trying his best to prevent his face from becoming pink and failing horribly at it.
“Oh, you know what that means.” Patton sang as he pressed his hands to his face and squealed.
“What are you doing?” Logan asked from the loveseat, a sleeping Deceit in his lap.
“I’m just singing about how cute Virg and Ro-Ro are together,” Patton said.
“Half-lie.” Deceit grumbled as his snake-eyes opening up and flashing a soft purple.
“What were you doing?” Logan asked again.
“Nothing.” Patton held out the word.
“That’s a full lie.” Deceit moved himself up so his head was laying on Logan’s chest, showing that he wasn’t fully ready to be awake yet.
“I’m trying to understand how you and Logan are together.” Virgil bluntly said.
“Uh.” That managed to get Deceit up.
“I don’t get what’s there to understand, I believe it’s similar to how you and Roman began your relationship,” Logan stated.
“I don’t really think that was similar at all,” Roman said with a shrug.
“Me and Virgil were both seen as the villains in Thomas’ life and we-”
“I was never the villain, I just wanted the best for Thomas.”
“So did I.” Deceit’s strong tone told everyone he was actually being honest. “I know my entire thing is lying, but I never wanted Thomas to lie to hurt others, I wanted him to lie to keep himself safe.” Deceit looked Virgil dead in the eyes. “I know you get that feeling.”
“Whatever,” Virgil grumbled and got off of the couch, leaving the room completely.
“Virg.” Patton got up as well and was cut off by Roman.
“Let me talk to Mr. Dark and Stormy,” Roman said before following where Virgil went.
“How about I make us some treats before we start the next movie?” Patton suggested. “Any requests?”
“Jam pockets?” Logan and Deceit said at the same time.
“That is just the cutest thing!” Patton squealed and left as well, leaving Logan and Deceit to blush.
“I blame you for getting me addicted to those.” Deceit said, moving up so he was face-to-face with Logan.
“What can I say, Crofter’s is the only-” Logan’s comment was cut off by Deceit placing a hand over his mouth.
“If you say that phrase one more time, I’m gluing your lips shut.” Deceit threatened before letting out a yelp. “Did you just lick me!? This is why I wear gloves!” Deceit quickly reached over to the end table and took out the hand sanitizer from it. “Out of all of you to behave like that, you were the last one on the list!” Deceit kept scolding as he cleaned his hands.
“Am I not allowed to be silly sometimes?” Logan asked, wrapping his arms around Deceit’s waist and pulling him back so he was sitting on his lap.
“You are allowed, I’d just enjoy not having your spit all over my hands.” Deceit wiggled himself until he was sitting more comfortably, his own legs dangling over the front of the couch while Logan was laying across it.
“How about I do this instead?” Deceit was about to ask what Logan meant by that offer but Logan placing his own hand on his cheek and pulling him in for a kiss was enough of an answer for him.
“I forgot to ask if you wanted strawberry or blackberr-eee!” Patton squealed when he saw Logan and Deceit, almost dropping the glass jars in shock. Deceit made his own sound of shock and actually fell off of Logan, landing on the ground with a loud ‘thump’. “You guys are just adorable!”
“Oh my, God!” Virgil’s laugh almost echoed in the room and Roman had to bite his tongue to hold back his laughter as Virgil held his stomach and leaned over.
“This is embarrassing.” Deceit groaned, using his cape to hide his head.
“At least your worry about not fitting is disproven,” Logan said, gently rubbing Deceit’s back with a smile.
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How to Fake a Marriage: Ch. 46
links in the reblog
Adrien's second graduation from undergrad was very similar to his first, all things considered. There were the speeches that he only half-listened to, the unfortunate soul one row back who had gotten sick and was sniffling periodically, the too-bright lights and a feeling that he really, really should have tried to smuggle his water bottle in with him.
And, of course, his father wasn't present this time, either, but Adrien had expected that. Marinette had been meant to go into work for a bit later in the day to make sure some deadlines got met but had taken the morning off to come, and Ben had come along with her. They would no doubt provide more enthusiastic support than Nathalie had when she had attended Adrien's graduation from the business program his father had forced him into.
(Bystanders reported that she had sat motionless until he crossed the stage, and then she had clapped three times before proceeding to sit like a statue until the end of the ceremony. Adrien suspected that that was an exaggeration, but only just.)
Nino and Alya had also sent their congratulations, but hadn't been able to leave Paris. Nino's DJing job had asked him to take some weekend hours, and Alya was still drowning in her piles of research. Adrien was maybe a little disappointed, but ultimately it didn't really matter.
Graduation was just a couple hours of sitting in a crowded auditorium before spending a couple seconds crossing a stage to get a piece of paper. If his friends couldn't make it, then they couldn't make it. It wasn't a big deal.
"It's going to be really strange not getting to see you on a regular basis," Paul told Adrien as the graduating class headed outside afterwards. "But I guess there was never a chance of you settling in London permanently, was there?"
Adrien shook his head. "Not a chance. I have too many ties to Paris, and I miss speaking my own language all of the time."
"And Marinette is going back."
"That's true," Adrien acknowledged. "And all of my other friends live there. It's my home, and as much as I enjoyed London..."
Paul nodded. "Yeah, I'd feel the same way if I had gone somewhere else for school. At least there's the Eurostar. It wouldn't take that much time to visit, really."
Adrien nodded.
The next few minutes were a whirlwind as Adrien waved good-bye to some of his classmates that he had gotten to know over the years. They weren't close friends like Paul or Ben, but he had enjoyed talking to them before classes and occasionally studying with them as well. Adrien doubted that he would see them again- some were moving to other cities around the UK, most heading back to their hometowns- and he had only exchanged phone numbers with a couple. But since they weren't close, Adrien suspected that he wouldn't even notice their absence.
"Hey, we finally found him!"
Adrien spun around to see Marinette and Ben headed towards him, grins on their faces. He waved back, feeling a bit like an overgrown bat next to Marinette's stylish and flattering shirt and skirt combo. She gave him a quick sideways hug before letting go and stepping back. Adrien grinned at her.
They had done it. He had finished his degree and graduated, and he had gotten a job back in Paris. His father's control over his life was lower than ever now, and would just drop even more now that he had an actual adult job and was making his own money, completely apart from his work as a model. Soon he and Marinette would be returning home and could be public with their relationship.
It would be fabulous.
"Paul! Paul, over here!"
"Oops, that's my mom," Paul said, glancing towards the call and taking a step away from the group. "She'll be with the rest of my family, so I better go. Unless you want another run-in with my sister before you get out of London."
Adrien made a face at the thought. "I think I'll be all right without, thanks."
"I figured that you would say that," Paul said, taking a half-step backwards to head towards his family. "And I'll get to see you again before you leave London, right? Or do you take off right away?"
"I'll be here for a week yet," Adrien assured him, waving his friend off. His eyes flicked over the crowd as Paul's mom called for him again, and he spotted Paul's sister in the crowd, glancing around at the milling graduates. "We have to pack up our apartments, after all. I'll text you and we can figure out a time to hang out before I leave."
Paul nodded again, then turned to follow his family, intercepting and herding his sister away from Adrien and Marinette before she could spot them. It wasn't long before he vanished in the crowd of excited graduates and their families.
"I should probably go as well," Ben admitted. "I have a cousin graduating later today, all the way on the other side of London. But maybe we can get together for dinner or something before you leave."
Adrien nodded, reaching out to shake his friend's hand. "Yeah, of course! And we'll have to stay in touch. Maybe you can come visit Paris sometime."
Ben grinned. "Yeah, it would be good to go over now that there aren't supervillains running all over the place. It's a nice city, really. And you can come visit London again, though I'm sure you've seen everything there is to see at this point. So I'll see you two later, I guess?"
"Of course! See you later, Ben!"
And then they were two.
"Do you have more people you want to say good-bye to?" Marinette asked, glancing around. "Because, ah..."
"You have to get back to work too, don't you?" Adrien asked, and she nodded. He gave it a second's thought and then shook his head. "No, I don't think so. I talked to pretty much everyone that I would want to talk to before the ceremony. We can go back and then I can get started on getting things cleaned."
"You can leave some stuff for me to deal with, you know," Marinette pointed out. "We could just clean in the evenings when I'm there, so you don't have to do all of it."
Adrien just shook his head, placing a single hand on the small of Marinette's back to guide her through the crowd ahead of him. "I'm just going to be floating around aimlessly during the day anyway, so I might as well clean and pack. I don't mind, really. And I can pick up some boxes from the post office for us to pack our blankets in to ship them home, too. You just worry about getting stuff wrapped up at work."
"Only if you're sure."
"I'm sure." Adrien had to resist the urge to duck down and press a kiss to Marinette's cheek. He contented himself by giving her side a gentle squeeze. "Give me five minutes to change out of my bat gown and then we can leave, okay?"
Adrien let out a triumphant little huff as he finally got the last of the dishes out of the top cupboard. They were large plates that he and Marinette only rarely used, and as such, there was a thin layer of dust both on them and on the shelf. He shoved the plates in the dishwasher, then hopped back up on the chair he had dragged into the kitchen to wipe out the shelf.
"I doubt the landlady is really going to look there," Plagg drawled, floating into the kitchen. "You're just being picky now."
"Maybe so, but I know if I were moving in next, I would want the place to be good as new." Adrien rolled up on his tip-toes to reach the very back of the shelf, then came back down as he worked towards the front. "And it's not that much extra work. I'm not doing the dishes by hand or anything. And what else would I do with my time?"
He shouldn't have asked, really. But Plagg perked up, leaping at the opportunity.
"You could go to the cheese market! Or- ooh, there's a farmer's market tomorrow nearby, I bet that there would be some cheese stalls there-"
"Forget I asked." Adrien moved down to the next shelf, emptying it into the dishwasher and wiping it clean. "And I have plans tomorrow, remember?"
Plagg gave him a puzzled look. Adrien sighed and leveled a Look at his kwami.
"The ring?"
"Oh! Right!"
Rolling his eyes, Adrien went back to work. When the dishwasher was properly full, he got it going and then headed out of the kitchen and towards the hall closet to do a bit of cleaning there. He and Marinette both still had a couple light coats left in the closet- a rain jacket and zip-up hoodie each. After some deliberation, Adrien decided to get the hoodies packed and leave the rain jackets, just in case. From there he moved on to the row of shelves on the other side of the hallway, opening all of the doors along the section and seeing what they had left there.
It...wasn't too bad. There were a couple sweaters that hadn't made it into earlier trips back, but they were light enough that they wouldn't take up too much space. Marinette had several pairs of shoes still tucked away, and Adrien knew enough about both Marinette an fashion to know that there was no way that Marinette would consider leaving the shoes behind. The only other thing left was a couple sets of spare sheets- both he and Marinette had had two sets for their beds, so now they had four between them- and a few blankets that they had deemed too heavy to be on their bed now that it was summer.
Maybe they could narrow down their collection of sheets a bit and donate a set or two along with their towels instead of trying to bring them back. The blankets they would keep- after all, Marinette had either made them or added embroidery or other decoration, and so they couldn't just be replaced with a run to the store.
Adrien hummed to himself as he moved everything that needed to be packed to the couch, making sure that things were folded neatly. The sheets went in a separate pile, so Adrien could ask Marinette about them later.
At last, their apartment was starting to look more bare, like they were actually ready to move out instead of barely making a move towards it.
(Adrien didn't like it. It was starting to feel too impersonal, not like a home. It wasn't bad when Marinette was there and they were hanging out together, but when it was only him and Plagg? It felt like just another place, not personal at all.)
Their suitcases were filling up, and it felt good. Adrien scrubbed and cleaned, then went back to the kitchen to get the cleaned dishes out of the dishwasher.
He was guessing that the two of them might not want to have to bother with doing all of the fiddly cleaning later in the week, so it had to get done now.
By the time Marinette got home late in the afternoon, every last dish in the kitchen had been cleaned and the hallway closets were clear. Adrien had vacuumed the living room as well, getting up all of the discarded threads and fuzz from Marinette's commissions. Her sewing machine had been taken down and packed away the night before, even if it wasn't going to go back to Paris right away, so Adrien didn't need to worry about knocking into it at all.
"We can get this over to Abbey's apartment tonight, I think," Marinette said, knocking on the sewing table. "She's wanted to replace the one she has, so sooner rather than later. And then we can feel like we made even more progress."
"Empty closets are good closets," Adrien agreed. "And empty corners."
"And empty fridges are also good," Plagg said loudly, zipping around the corner. "And look, I can volunteer to help you empty it!"
Adrien grinned. "Great! There's some leftover broccoli in the fridge that I've been wonder what to do with. I'll go grab that for you really fast-"
The affronted look on Plagg's face made the rest of them all laugh.
Marinette woke up on her last Sunday in London to breakfast in bed and a cuddly boyfriend. It was the perfect way to start a morning, in her opinion.
And they would be spending the entire day with each other, focused on being together instead of each being wrapped up in their own projects or studying. Adrien had persuaded her to set the packing aside for a day to go explore some flower gardens, since it was spring and things were really blooming.
It would be the most date-like thing they had ever done outside of their apartment, which meant they could easily get seen by Adrien's fans and thrown right back into the tabloids. But it was nearly time for them to go home anyway and any stories about them didn't really matter anymore, so Marinette agreed to go along with the trip. Besides, it made Adrien happy, and she so loved seeing his smile.
"They have some lovely ornamental shrubs," Adrien told Marinette as they took the bus to the gardens. "And sculptures, and fountains. But the flowers are the main attraction at this time of the year."
Marinette nodded. She had been to several gardens before, and they were always gorgeous. Part of her was always seriously curious about the amount of time it took to keep the grounds up and looking so pristine. Her own balcony plants were a weak substitute for a garden, and while they were pretty, seeing them bloom was nowhere near as gorgeous as seeing an entire garden covered in greens and yellows and pinks and all of the other colors of flowers in bloom.
"It's the perfect day for a trip," Marinette said, glancing out the window. There were only a few wispy clouds in the sky, and it was warm but not overly hot. "I'm glad you suggested it."
"And I'm glad that you agreed." Adrien reached over just enough to brush the tips of his fingers over the back of her hand. "It wouldn't be nearly as much fun to go on my own."
It wasn't a long bus ride, and then they were at the gardens. After a brief play-argument over who was paying, Adrien bought their passes and led her into the gardens.
And then they explored, and explored, and explored.
"I haven't been here since our prank," Marinette told Adrien as they admired a fountain. "You would think that I might have, since it's a great setting for a photoshoot, but nope. We've used different settings."
"You've said. Big Ben, the London Eye, the Globe Theater..."
"I think Madam Rosalie likes playing up the London-based thing," Marinette admitted. "But I do know that the group that does formalwear and wedding outfits comes here pretty often. I've just never really joined them since."
Adrien smiled and nodded, the tips of his fingers brushing over the back of her hand. Marinette smiled over at him, endlessly smitten.
How had she gotten so lucky as to get Adrien as her partner and boyfriend? They were made for each other in pretty much every way.
They wandered through a garden of tree sculptures, admiring the trimmed bushes and twisted branches. Tikki tugged on Marinette's sleeve and alerted the to the presence of a likeness of a woman hidden among the branches of one old tree.
"It's fun to find them," Tikki told them. "Traditionally, in- oh, I think are traditional in Japanese gardens, but I might be wrong- they just occur naturally, and gardeners delighted in finding them. I think some nowadays might have some help in forming when a gardener really wants them for aesthetic reasons, but it's hard to know. It could have just formed like that."
"Very cool." Adrien craned his neck to look at the figure again. It would be really, really hard to see from any other angles, simply blending into the tree, but at this angle there was no mistaking what it was.
"Do you mind if we sit for a little bit?" Marinette asked, glancing around. "It's just- everything is so gorgeous, and I want to sketch a few ideas I just had down before I forget them."
"Of course!" Adrien led the way to an empty bench. "Sketch away. I was just thinking that it would be nice to get off of my feet for a bit. We've been walking around a lot."
Marinette beamed, settling down immediately and pulling her tablet out. Adrien watched over her shoulder as two flowery summer dresses took shape, followed by a pair of flared pants. An enlarged section showed intricate beading around the neckline of one of the dresses, and the other had trailing embroidering.
"Oh, this is a lovely spot for inspiration," Marinette said happily, her pen flying. "And- oh, I just had this idea for fringed pants. They would be a little out there, but so much fun if I can get the proportions right."
Adrien grinned. "Oh, that does sound like fun. Especially to spin around in."
The next garden had a lot of flowers, color everywhere. There were flowers nestled in the junctures of branches and vines twining up the trees and over trellises. It was gorgeous now, but probably wouldn't be very popular in a few weeks, once the flowers dropped their pedals and the garden turned mostly green.
"It's amazing how they've arranged these so that all of the plants get enough sun for good flowers," Marinette said, glancing around the gardens. There were hardly any bare patches, or areas with plants that weren't flowering. It seemed that they had really come at just the right time. "And then- Adrien, look here! They have some plants with really decorative leaves, too. This is so pretty!"
They found a tucked-away bench in one of the back gardens to sit on while they ate the lunch they had brought. There were plenty of cookies- Marinette had had a little too much cookie dough squirreled away in the freezer and had ended up baking up most of it in one large batch.
Tikki had been thrilled. Adrien had been equally excited and had sampled a few too many cookies the previous night. It seemed to have only slightly deterred his appetite for them now, so it was good that Marinette had packed a lot of them.
"There's only a few more sections that we haven't visited," Marinette commented as she perused the pamphlet that she had picked up at the entrance. "There's a sculpture garden back a bit farther. That would be fun! And I kind of want to peek in on that garden where we had that photoshoot and see what it looks like now, since the last time we were in there it was fall."
Adrien grinned and nodded. "Yeah! That would be fun." He packed up the remains of their lunch and gave her a hand to pull her to her feet. "Come on, my Lady. We still have garden to explore."
Adrien was having more than a little trouble staying focused as he and Marinette wandered through the gardens, exploring a few more sections as they worked their way towards what had been their photoshoot garden, where he had decided to propose. He shouldn't be this nervous, really- he and Marinette had talked about getting married, after all, and Tikki had helped him pick out a ring they were sure Marinette would like. The ring wasn't ridiculously fancy or anything, though, which was starting to worry him a little. It was a carved band with a pretty pattern, and the gems inlaid in the band were a bit on the small side and mostly served to add a little extra sparkle.
Still, it was gorgeous and Tikki was positive that Marinette would absolutely love it.
"I can't believe we haven't been here since the photoshoot," Marinette said as she bent down to sniff some flowers. "It's absolutely gorgeous! And this is probably the best time of the year for it, too."
Adrien grinned. It seemed that Tikki (and Madam Rosalie) hadn't led him wrong with the location for asking Marinette to marry him.
"Oh, the private gardens area is open!" Marinette exclaimed as they got further down the path. "Do you think we can go in? I'm curious about what it would look like in the spring."
"I'm sure it'll be fine if you do," Adrien said, knowing full well that those gardens were normally closed off to keep them looking nice for events. He had asked Madam Rosalie to ask the garden owner if she could leave the gate open for them so he could propose in the same place they had originally gotten "married".
Plagg, who had initially come up with the idea, thought it would be funny. Adrien thought it would be romantic.
Marinette nervously edged forward, glancing around as if she was worried that she was going to be yelled at. She vanished into the garden, and Adrien followed.
As soon as Marinette got into the garden, all of her attention was on the flowers there. It was a mishmash of absolutely gorgeous flowers on the ground and in the trees, bordered by decorative vines and plants with particularly pretty leaves. Adrien followed her, vaguely aware of Plagg zipping out of his pocket with the camera he had brought. He wanted engagement photos, but he wouldn't feel comfortable with having any other people there. Plagg and Tikki were going to be with them no matter what, so they might as well help.
Tikki, who had abandoned Marinette's jacket for Adrien's under the pretense that Adrien's pockets were larger, was staying in his pocket for moral support because Plagg sucked at moral support, unless he was in a certain helpful sort of mood.
"Ooh, this is gorgeous," Marinette breathed, reaching out to brush her fingers across some petals. "This was such a good idea to come out here, Adrien. And we picked the perfect day for it, too!"
Tikki pressed the ring box into Adrien's hand. Adrien's knees started to shake.
Marinette continued around the garden, oohing and ahhing at the flowers. Adrien's legs got more and more shaky as Marinette approached the lattice arch that they had gotten "married" under. He couldn't for the life of him think of what he could say to get Marinette's attention once they got to the exact place where he wanted to propose, he couldn't remember what he wanted to say, and he was possibly going to trip over his feet and fall on his face.
Tikki nudged harder. Adrien tried not to flinch.
Okay, maybe Plagg would have been better for moral support after all. Tikki just wanted him to hurry up and propose.
"Ooh, look at the arch!" Marinette gasped, abandoning the small purple flowers she had been admiring to inspect the vines trailing up the trellis. "That's really pretty! I wonder how much time they spend maintaining these gardens. It's absolutely impeccable."
"Well, they do have to keep them nice for events and such," Adrien managed. Marinette was right under the arch now, right where he wanted her. Tikki's pushing had become so insistent that Adrien was having a hard time keeping his hand in his pocket. Taking a deep breath, Adrien wobbled down onto one knee, pulled out the ring box and opened it. The ring sparked in the sunlight. "So it, uh, looks good in pictures."
"Yeah, I guess so-" Marinette started, turning around. She blinked at the empty air above Adrien, clearly taken aback for a moment when she didn't see him right away. Her gaze dropped down and her eyes flew wide open before her hands clapped over her mouth. "Oh."
Adrien's smile got a little more confident. That sounded like a good oh. A nudge on his side reminded him that he actually had to say something, not just hold up the ring. He cleared his throat and tried to find his words.
"Marinette," Adrien started and miraculously, his voice didn't squeak. "My Lady. My partner in everything. Love of my life. I can't ever imagine not having you in my life and by my side. So- will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
"Oh my god yes," Marinette breathed. A smile was spreading across her face, replacing the surprise. "Oh my god yes."
She said yes. She said yes!
"Great," Adrien managed, then shook himself. Great? What kind of response was that? "I love you, bugaboo," he added, slipping the ring onto her finger and straightening to press a light kiss to her lips.
Marinette returned the kiss, smiling the entire time. She grinned at him as they briefly parted. "I'm never going to get you to let go of that nickname, am I?"
"Nope," Adrien proclaimed grandly, pulling Marinette into a dip and kissing her again. They stayed there for several long seconds, enjoying the moment before Adrien pulled them both back up. He gave her another quick peck on the lips. "Love you."
Marinette giggled and kissed him back. "Love you too." She raised her hand, inspecting the ring. "This is gorgeous, Adrien. Wow."
Adrien did a small fist pump, making Marinette giggle again.
"I helped!" Tikki said, phasing straight out of Adrien's pocket with a cheer and zipping in circles around Marinette. "I told him you would love it! Congratulations, you two!"
Adrien grinned as he watched Marinette cuddle Tikki. She was absolutely glowing, and the ring looked absolutely perfect on her finger.
"We wanted to make sure it would be a good ring for you when sewing," Tikki was telling Marinette. "Is it?"
Adrien glanced over at Marinette- his fiancée, how exciting- suddenly anxious. He could remember the fancy stones on his own mother's rings, significantly larger than the ones on Marinette's ring. Of course, his mom hadn't been a designer- she was an actress and occasional model, and of course her ring had to come off when she was pulling the designer clothes on and off. To his relief, Marinette was beaming.
"It's perfect," Marinette assured them. She twisted her hand, making the ring sparkle. "If they were any bigger, they would probably snag. And these are perfect for this ring. It's really gorgeous, Adrien," she added, letting go of Tikki to pull Adrien close again. She tugged him down to pull him into a deep kiss, one that probably bordered on inappropriate considering that they were technically out in public. "I love you."
Adrien grinned down at her, unable to resist dipping down to steal another kiss from his fiancée. His fiancée. It felt so, so right to be able to say that. "I love you, too."
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