#i've been working on this for a long time and just finished it in a burst of productivity

[1d1195]

Independent

~10.6k words

From me: I know it's a long one, but it's a one-shot.

Warnings: angst, fluff. I've got about a thousand tropes in this one. Coworker Harry, Roommate Harry, love at first sight, he falls first and harder, one bed if you squint.

Summary: “Go on a date with me,” he groaned.

“Because of the cookies?”

“No! Well, yes. Right now, yes, because of the cookies. But s’not usually because of cookies.”

She laughed. “I don’t date, Harry.”

Harry was tall, with soft brown locks that begged to have fingers run through them, and cool green eyes that reminded her of the sage green bridesmaid’s dress she wore to one of her friends’ weddings the year before. He wore a dark purple button down with sleeves rolled up revealing a bunch of tattoos on his left arm but only a few on the right. His voice was melodic. Smooth, like he was going to sing her a lullaby and warm like it could toast a marshmallow.

Her group chat with a couple of her office friends had been buzzing the moment Harry took residence at the desk across the aisle and one row ahead of her.

Holy fuck. Val texted. Office eye candy 😍

Do you hear that thundering sound? That’s my heart 😍 Rachel continued.

She smirked at the desks, shaking her head.

Don’t shake your head. Say something! At least you’re single, you have a chance! Val sent the messages in quick succession, making her desk partner, Hunter, look at her curiously each time it vibrated.

“Do you have an emergency?” He asked her.

She shook her head. “Nope,” she smiled. “Not at all.”

*

Harry met her and asked her out on the very first day he started his new job. They both worked in an office. Their desks only a short distance apart while they worked together. He assumed there were no rules against dating as there were several married couples within the office as he quickly found out from the shared last names and wedding photos of his coworkers lining one another’s desks.

It seemed, as long as it didn’t interfere with their work, there was no issue.

Which was fine by Harry.

He was happy to ogle her all day long and he would spoil her rotten outside of work. “Hi, m’Harry,” Harry took his opportunity to introduce himself when everyone else left for their lunch hour and she was finishing something up. Leaving them alone in the office. Harry analyzed her desk as quickly as he could.

Their office was wide open with desks back-to-back nearly identical on either side with a long aisle leading to the office of their boss at the back of the room. Her desk faced the front of the room while Harry’s faced his boss’ office. He was on the opposite side of the room, and he had a great view all day long to watch her profile as she worked. Her hair was half up, her beautiful eyes hidden behind glasses, and her mouth set in concentration as she focused on her tasks. He couldn’t see her whole body, but he watched her pull her sandy colored cardigan around her white shirt multiple times that morning, like she was chilled by the air conditioner. His eyes were drawn to her. Like she was a lighthouse, and he was out at sea. All he wanted to do was watch her, keep an eye on her, and admire how stunning she was.

She had a little plant near her window—a bunch of red poppies wrapped up in a burlap vase, tied with a red bow. He couldn’t tell if it was fake or not, but he suspected it was. There was a picture of a large group of friends right by her monitor where she was off to the side in it, one of her girlfriends had an arm around her. Her stationery was cool tones of blues, greens, and purples. Her handwriting was scribbled on a calendar in front of her and he thought the way she curved her L’s was loopy and pretty beyond belief and he wished he had one in his name just to see how it looked. But it made him want to know how she would write his name anyway. There was a date at the end of September that was marked with a heart and he wondered why. Was it an anniversary? A birthday? Or the day her favorite movie came out?

A book sat on the windowsill, and he wondered when she had the time to read it during the day or maybe it was a security blanket kind of thing. There were two paper trays stacked on top of one another to organize her work and sticky notes all over her monitor and desk with ideas, reminders, and even a couple that said things like, “we love you” and “you’re so sweet.”

“Hi, Harry,” she smiled up at him to introduce herself. “Welcome to the team, are you having a good first day?”

He nodded, smiled a little brighter and dove right in. “I think m’in love with you,” she released a laugh that was so unbelievably beautiful Harry thought it sealed the deal. “I wouldn’t laugh, kitten. M’serious,” he frowned with faux sadness. He knew he was being a tad bit ridiculous. Maybe it wasn’t right to say it while they were alone, but he didn’t want to say it in front of everyone either. Hopefully he could convince her he was harmless, even if what he said was true.

Her cheeks reddened and she smiled. “That’s... very forward,” she reminded him. “And you don’t know me.”

“I know,” he rubbed the back of his head. “I was going t’hold off on saying it until tomorrow, but m’unable t’contain it. You’re very beautiful and everyone seems t’go t’you when they need help, so I imagine you’re a lovely person,” he pointed at the sticky note that said we love you once more. She snickered again and looked away covering one cheek with her hand. “M’going t’go t’lunch before I embarrass myself further, but I jus’ wanted to tell you,” he shrugged, stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned toward the exit.

“Nice meeting you Harry,” she called after him a smile on her lips.

He grinned and turned briefly to wave before he exited. “Don’t forget t’eat, kitten,” he called.

*

But now that Harry admitted he was in love with her, she couldn’t help but feel like she was being watched while she worked. Her eyes darted to his side of the room often trying to see if he was staring at her. He wasn’t each time which only made her feel guilty and worse. Maybe her standoffish disposition deterred him rapidly. It was probably for the best, anyway. For a lot of reasons.

Was it disappointment she was feeling from his lack of attention? That didn’t seem right.

“Harry!” Val called from behind her. “Are you enjoying your first day?”

“Immensely,” did his eyes drift over to her and her desk? She stared at her screen pretending to work while she listened.

“Did you just move to town?” Rachel was much further towards the front of the room. He turned to give her his full attention. It made her heart skip a beat with how kind it was. His politeness was a massive turn on.

Even if she wasn’t going to let herself admire Harry from across the way just because they worked together.

“I did, m’actually looking for a place t’live if y’know of any places. M’at a hotel until m’on m’feet.”

Her heart started beating about two hundred times a minute because she knew what was going to happen before it did. She could feel the bubbling excitement from her friends on either end of the room. “Mary Poppins has a room!” Rachel shouted.

Her cheeks turned bright red.

“Her roommate just moved in with her boyfriend like last week! How perfect is that, Mary? You were all worried about finding a normal roommate. I even did his background check, so I know he’s good to go!”

Harry chuckled. “Um... who’s Mary Poppins?”

The whole office giggled. “Miss Poppins, did you not introduce yourself?” Someone else called. Hunter snickered across from her and she glared at him.

This was mortifying. Wasn’t this supposed to be a mortifying day for Harry? His first day and all? How come she was being teased? She took a deep breath and turned from her monitor to make direct eye contact with Harry who was already looking at her. Like he knew exactly who Mary Poppins was without his coworkers needing to tell him. “It’s a two-bedroom apartment. One bath. There’s a nice kitchen, all new appliances.”

Harry’s jaw dropped as she spoke. Like he was surprised it really was her. “Val looks like she’s going to bounce out of her seat,” Hunter smirked as he whispered under his breath to her while she tried not to panic at the thought of living with someone so unbelievably attractive and just admitted he was in love with her.

“Tell him about your living room!” Val sounded like she was bouncing.

“Water’s included.”

“She’s the cutest interior designer. It’s so homey it feels like a warm hug when you walk in. Like living with a rom-com character,” Rachel continued.

“Rent would be about twelve hundred,” she ignored her so-called friends.

“She bakes something once a week too, so it always smells like sugar and Christmas. It’s seriously the coziest place I’ve ever been,” Val kept going.

“In-unit washer and dryer.”

“Then she brings whatever she makes for all of us here to devour. It’s incredible,” Rachel’s sentiment was answered with a hum of agreement from the rest of her coworkers. She even heard someone say remember her apple turnover pastries?

“You get your own parking spot,” she tilted her head and looked at the ceiling to see if there was anything else she had forgotten. “I think that’s it,” she met Harry’s eyes once more, holding his gaze briefly before she turned back to her monitor.

“Harry you should totally move in, you will fall in love with the place.”

“M’sure I would,” he chuckled. “Could I see it sometime?” He asked. His attention never strayed from her face. She could sense his gaze on the side of her cheek the whole time her friends embarrassed the crap out of her. “Whenever you’re free. Doesn’t have t’be today.”

“Today’s fine!” Rachel assured him. “She doesn’t do anything on Mondays.”

She rolled her eyes. “Today is fine,” she repeated and smiled sweetly. She scribbled on a sticky note and headed to his desk to drop the address off with him. Then she made her way toward the restroom because she needed to get out of the room. Needed away from everyone teasing her good-naturedly.

But mostly so she could keep herself from telling Harry that she was quite, very possibly, in love with him as well.

*

True to her friends’ words, the place was cozy as hell. There was a basket of throw blankets next to a sofa that looked like it was comfier than his bed currently in his storage unit. Artwork dotted the walls, board games stowed below her TV, and curtains pulled back from the windows letting in the afternoon sunlight. It felt like a home.

There were three boxes in the middle of the living room between the coffee table and the TV, but it was otherwise spotless. “You’re very clean.”

She nodded. “I know, I’m sorry.”

He chuckled. “Y’don’t need t’apologize,” he put his hands in his pockets, so he didn’t do something crazy like hold her hand.

“I don’t want you to think I’m crazy, is all. You can be... messy... I won’t have a freak out or anything. Unless you leave food in the sink then we get bugs. Then I’ll be kind of freaked out.”

He laughed. “I wouldn’t do that. I like t’think m’pretty clean myself,” he assured her. “I also...” he took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his head. “Y’friends kinda put y’on the spot. I know what I admitted at lunch was kinda out of... out of the blue,” he bit his lip. “Y’don’t have t’feel obligated t’house me.”

“I don’t,” she promised. “I need a roommate and like Val said,” she shrugged. “She did your background check so I assume you won’t kill me, probably. At least not because you’re a serial killer. Maybe because I’m too clean.”

He shook his head with a smile on his lips making the most adorable dimple dent his cheek. She wanted to stick her tongue in it. “Thank you, m’really appreciative.”

She smiled. “You’re welcome, Harry. Sorry we’ll be around each other a lot.”

That didn’t seem like a bad thing at all. “I think it’ll be okay. We didn’t really talk much today,” he shrugged. “If y’get sick of me, m’sure I can find another place t’live,” he winked.

She rolled her eyes. “Won’t be necessary. But okay,” she sighed. “You can move in whenever,” she grabbed her keys from the breakfast bar where she ate most of her meals and pulled a key off the ring and handed it to him. “I have a second job some nights, but if you give me a heads up, I can help you move your stuff.”

“S’very kind of you, kitten, but y’don’t need t’do that. M’not going t’have all that much stuff. M’friend Louis lives not too far from here. He’ll come help me.”

“Offer stands,” she assured him.

Harry’s eyes scanned the room again and landed on the three boxes once more. “Are those your old roommate’s boxes?” He asked.

She nodded. “Two of them. I’m supposed to bring them to her, but they’re super heavy so I’m like... working up my mental and physical strength to bring them to my car. It’s going to be two trips and I’m just being a little lazy about it.”

“I can bring them down,” he grabbed one. It was definitely heavy. It was evident Harry had defined biceps and triceps practically outlined by the pretty purple button down, but it was manageable for him while a struggle for her. “Still probably two trips,” he nodded.

“Oh, I can take—”

“No, no,” he shook his head. “Don’t want you t’hurt yourself. Let me,” he offered and snagged her car keys off the counter.

“Oh, thank you that’s... thank you,” she swallowed, feeling grateful.

“Not a problem,” he assured her and left immediately.

When he returned after putting the second box in her car to return her keys, she had opened the third box and begun laying out a bunch of fall items to decorate their place. “Do you mind decorations?”

“Of course not,” he smiled. “Can I help?”

She blinked at him and tilted her head. “Um... I can handle it. If you need to pack or go... get dinner or something.”

“M’fine,” he smiled, setting her keys on the counter and glanced around the room. He noted there were hooks screwed into the wall at various points. “Can I hang something for you? M’good for height.”

Harry wasn’t that much taller than her, she was definitely taller than the average woman, but it still meant she needed to drag out a stepstool when she wanted to put up her art and decorations. “That would be awesome,” she nodded. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem, kitten,” he smiled.

*

Harry had a dreamy smile on his face as they talked and got to know one another. He hadn’t brought up that he was in love with her. Nor did he make her feel the least bit uncomfortable. Like it had never happened.

Why did it feel like she was disappointed about the prospect of that?

Maybe he wasn’t in love with her. Maybe the initial reaction of seeing someone roughly the same age as him at work made his senses a bit wild for a moment.

No. She wasn’t disappointed. Everything about Harry being in love with her would be a recipe for disaster and it was for the best that he didn’t fall in love with her.

It was just something a little bit out of the blue to say to the only person who was single in the office. Everyone had a significant other they had met within the office or elsewhere. She was the last single person. The same was true with her friend group as well. Everyone in her life had been paired off except for her.

He was her coworker. He was going to be her roommate.

But right as he left, he sent her heart into a frenzy. They were by the door. She wanted to make sure he got to his car safely even though it was a safe neighborhood. It was just the way she was. “Will you go on a date with me?” He asked.

She stared at him in shock, her lips parting like she was mid-sentence, and he had interrupted. “Seriously?” She giggled reflexively, but her cheeks felt hot. They had a lovely evening together getting to know each other. Harry helped with all the decorations and yes, in its own way it was a bit intimate. But he couldn’t possibly think that it was a good idea to date his roommate.

“Yes,” he nodded.

“Harry, I can’t date my roommate.”

“Pretty sure s’how most rom-coms start,” he smiled. “S’okay. I’ll ask again later. Have a nice night,” he grinned with a wave and walked toward his car. Leaving her jaw slack, as she watched her roommate head off into the night.

*

Harry moved in later that week. He asked her to come with him to his storage unit to see if there was anything she would want in the apartment, but she had pretty much everything. It seemed silly to bring a double of everything when she owned all of it already.

But Harry would forever be grateful and indebted to his sister for her kindness as he watched her examine some of his belongings. One in particular caught her eye making him think that he had won the lottery with how excited she was.

She couldn’t believe Harry had a stand mixer and she was nearly in awe of all the attachments to help bake and cook easier. “I’ve always wanted one of these. They’re so expensive,” she blinked. “How do you have one?”

“M'sister got one when she got married,” he explained. “But she doesn’t bake and said it was taking up space in her kitchen.”

“Can we bring it to the apartment? Do you mind?”

The way her eyes lit up at the sight of it? Pure joy and happiness? Yeah. It was going to the apartment. If he ever moved out, he would probably leave it with her too just so she could always look that happy. “Course. Anything else?”

She looked around the organized storage room sifting through the items in different bins while Harry searched for some of his own trinkets that he thought he would want after his initial move. His room and bathroom items had already been moved in with the help of Louis. “This is stunning,” her voice full of awe once more, grabbing a print from behind a shelf. Harry wasn’t sure where it was from. He thought his mum purchased it to make his old place feel like home. “This would look amazing in the living room.”

“Bring it,” he smiled. She tucked it under her arm and continued searching. Harry grabbed a few more odds and ends and she plucked out a few more things she thought would work with the apartment’s décor and mainly helpful kitchen tools.

“It’s your place too, Harry,” she reminded him. “Is there anything you want there?”

He smiled, shook his head. “Y’seem t’have everything, kitten. M’not picky.”

“I don’t want you to feel like a guest,” she pouted. “Like you should bring these,” she gestured to pictures of his friends and family in a bin. “I can move some of mine to my room so you can put them up.”

He grinned. “Sure,” he shrugged. “If y’think s’what I should do.”

“Alright, could we come back in a few weeks and see if there’s anything else you want once you’re settled a bit?”

“Course.”

They gathered as much as they could, Harry would have to come back for the stand mixer. Harry closed the trunk and moved to open the passenger door for her before her hand fully pulled it out of the way. He waited until she was tucked into the seat safely and he handed her the car keys. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here,” she smiled.

“Hey kitten,” he said leaning against the door before he left. “Will y’go on a date with me?”

“Harry,” she laughed the same way she did the last time he asked her. The same way she laughed when he told her he was in love with her. “You can’t be serious!”

“Deadly,” he smiled at the delight on her face. The pretty pink color rising to her cheeks. “Will you?”

“I can’t go on a date with you, Harry,” she looked at him with a bit of sympathetic pity. Like he was ridiculous for asking. Again. Which he was.

“Then I’ll ask again another time,” he shrugged, closed her car door, and headed to get the stand mixer that made her happy.

*

“Hey Poppy, did y’want t’go get lunch with me?” Her eyes didn’t move from her screen. “Poppy,” he repeated. “Poppy,” he sang. She glanced around and realized she was the only one in the room.

“Me?”

He chuckled. “Yes, you.”

Her eyebrows pinched together. “Why did you call me Poppy?”

“Well, m’assuming s’your favorite flower,” it was a safe bet since there was a small bouquet right beside her. “Also, everyone else calls y’Mary, Poppins, or Miss Poppins. Which I still don’t know why, but I wanted t’be different. Want you t’know s’me when y’hear me talking t’you.”

Her heart raced. Harry was utterly adorable. “I see. Sorry,” she smirked.

“Anyway,” he came over to stand by her desk. “Do y’want t’get lunch?”

“Harry, I told you I don’t date.”

“M’not asking as a date. M’asking as your coworker who has never seen y’eat a bite of food while you’re at work. M’asking as your concerned roommate who worries y’don’t eat until y’get home for dinner. And I don’t even want t’think ‘bout how long y’go without eating when you’re at your second job.”

She smiled at his thoughtfulness. “I don’t go out to lunch with everyone,” she explained. “I don’t know if you noticed, but people always seem to need me while I’m here,” she gestured to her desk. “Lunch is the only time I get a minute to myself. And I can get caught up a bit before the afternoon and everyone comes back.”

“Well do you bring lunch?” He asked, his frown deepening still worried she wasn’t eating.

“I do, it’s in the breakroom. I’ll get it in a minute,” she promises. “Go, you’re wasting your lunch hour.”

“Okay,” he sighed. He stopped in the doorway of the entrance to the office. “Hey Poppy,” he smiled.

“Yeah?” She asked without looking up from her screen.

“Now that y’mention it though, will y’go out with me?”

*

At home, Harry took the trash out because he said it was a boy-job and she shouldn’t be out in the dark by a dumpster. It made his skin crawl just to think about it. He made her promise that she wouldn’t take out the trash and he didn’t mind if he had to go out twice in one day. She thought it was ridiculous. But she agreed.

He cleaned up after himself checking with her to see if it was up to her standard. Even though she assured him he didn’t have to meet her standard. His cologne overtook their bathroom, and it was so comforting she took long hot showers at night just to amplify the scent filling her nose. Harry stretched across the sofa and scrolled through various show options but often didn’t find something that piqued his interest. Instead, he would put on some background noise and read on an eReader. His eyebrows pinched together in concentration.

Harry bought groceries and didn’t ask for any money from them. “M’sure you’ll buy stuff too,” he shrugged. Plus, she already had all the cleaning supplies, laundry detergent, dishwasher pods, and the like. Harry hardly had anything useful so buying groceries was the least he could do.

Except the stand mixer. People moaned about her cookies. Harry got to see her make them firsthand and the very scene with an apron around her body, her smile bright as she tested various stages of the dough, it did wonders for Harry. Some kind of nearly pornographic idea that only Harry would think was pornographic. “Will you try one?” She asked, hope in her voice.

Was he supposed to say no to her? Absolutely not. So, he tried one. “Go on a date with me,” he groaned.

“Because of the cookies?”

“No! Well, yes. Right now, yes, because of the cookies. But s’not usually because of cookies.”

She laughed. “I don’t date, Harry.”

He frowned, faking his disappointment (although he was the slightest bit disappointed). “I’ll try again,” he shrugged and took three more cookies from her cooling rack before returning to the sofa to read.

*

“Mary!” Val sang. “Do you have the stain stick?” She called from behind. She opened a drawer, eyes unmoving from her screen and held it out behind her for it to be passed back by her other coworkers. Harry chuckled.

It killed her that she knew his chuckle without looking. “S’impressive,” he murmured quietly. But she could hear it from across the way.

“That’s nothing,” Rachel said from the other end of the room. “Miss Poppins,” she smiled delightedly. “I have a missing button,” she told her.

That was the other drawer, a small little sewing kit to fix a button.

“Hair tie!” Someone called from the other side of the room.

“Lint roller!”

They all called out items and she had every single one.

“Do you have anything stronger to put in this coffee?” Their boss was walking up the aisle and paused at her desk. She smirked, opened the bottom drawer and placed a mini bottle of liquid on the edge of the desk. The whole office laughed as he snatched it and headed to his office. “You’re getting a raise, Poppins,” he called.

Hunter turned to look at Harry. “I gave her the nickname,” he explained.

“I get it,” he chuckled.

“If you need it, chances are she has it.”

“If she doesn’t, she adds it,” Val explained.

Her smile was soft. Harry thought it was sweet how her coworkers adored her. It was clear she was loved by them. Her thoughtfulness was admirable. Harry wondered how he was supposed to top that. No wonder she didn’t want to go out with him. Why would she want to go out with anyone when she was ten times sweeter than anyone she knew?

*

Her best friend Josephine (Joey) was helping her in the bathroom when Harry got home from the gym one Friday evening. “Holy hell you said he was cute, not hot,” she gaped.

“Aw, y’think m’cute, Poppy?” He asked winking at her. Her cheeks flushed red, making it so she didn’t need any of the blush she was putting on her cheeks. He leaned against the doorframe; arms crossed over his chest. He was sweaty and really wanted to get in the shower, but he didn't mind a bit of time to stare at his sweet roommate.

“I should have known. Only a man that uses such high-end cologne would be this hot.”

“Didn’t you buy Matt high-end cologne?”

“Hence why I think he’s so hot,” Joey beamed. Her friend laughed quietly, shaking her head as she finished with her makeup.

“Sorry Harry, we’ll be out of the way in a minute.”

“Take y’time. M’not in a rush.”

“Oh, you should come out!” Joey squealed. “Harry, please! She’s always by herself keeping an eye on us it would be nice to have someone keep her company!”

“Thanks, Mom. I don’t need a babysitter,” she rolled her eyes. “No offense, Harry.”

“S’okay,” he chuckled. “I don’t want t’impose. Plus m’in need of a shower.”

“Don’t let us stop you,” Joey smiled widely gesturing to the shower.

“Can you not?” She rolled her eyes and looked at Harry with apologetic eyes.

He laughed again and shook his head. “Y’can call if y’need something,” he assured her.

“Harry, please come out! You can meet us there!” Joey said again.

She looked at him with a soft smile. A look in her eyes said he wasn’t going to get out of it. Not if he didn’t have a really good reason. But truthfully? He didn’t need a reason to get out of it. Spending time with her outside of work, outside of the apartment, and errands like the grocery store and running to the post office had him excited to see her in another frame of light. Did she let loose? He would love to dance with her. Even if it was only as friends, roommates, fuck as coworkers even. How did she act around her friends versus her coworkers? God, he was obsessed.

“I can wait for you,” she suggested, her voice soft. Harry smiled.

“Thanks, Poppy.”

*

Her eyes scanned for her friends as she sat on a stool at a high top beside Harry. It was like watching a teacher on a field trip counting heads to make sure everyone was still present. The table was littered with drinks all of which she minded just as intently.

Harry just gazed at her as he sipped his drink. He helped as needed pushing drinks toward her friends as they came back from dancing. “Y’don’t dance?”

“Oh...maybe later. I’m not very good,” she admitted. “I like dancing with Joey because she’s worse than me.”

She caught the eye of one of her friends, Hailey, approaching and she reached into her purse strapped around the front of her for something. Harry watched as Hailey made it to her. “Thanks Mary,” she gushed taking the bandage from her and made her way for the bathroom. It was pretty wild she could anticipate whatever her friends needed. It was like at work. Harry was a bit awestruck and looked at her with a surprised expression. She shrugged and continued sipping her drink.

Jaylen was next. Joey’s twin brother; they had the same facial expressions--mainly the smile that Joey had on her face when she suggested Harry shower in front of her and his favorite person.

The same smile appeared on his face and told Harry he was going to say something just as delightful as Joey had said of Harry. Sure enough, Jaylen draped an arm around her and leaned into her ear to whisper something over the sound of the music. She rolled her eyes and shoved him playfully. His face turned serious and he whispered something again.

She frowned. Then reached into her purse again. Out came a tampon which he slid discreetly into his pocket and then she glanced at his outfit twisting her lips to the side in disappointment.

After a brief thought, she pulled her purse over her body and laid it on the table. The long cardigan she wore came off next, leaving her in a black tank top that tucked into her jeans. It hugged her curves like a glove making Harry’s mouth water and he glanced away worried he would look like a creep. He finished his beer before Jaylen grinned and thanked her profusely and walked away. She took a deep breath and put her purse back into position before wrapping one arm in front of he protectively, gripping the front of her shoulder.

“Are y’cold?” He asked.

She shook her head.

But Harry was sitting beside her. He could see the goosebumps on her skin. She selflessly gave her sweater to her friend for whatever reason (Harry wasn’t totally sure, but he suspected it was menstrual related). But she was going to pretend like she wasn’t cold? Harry was definitely in love. In case it wasn’t obvious by the moment he met her. Boldly, Harry reached below her bar stool and tugged it toward him. She jostled a bit but he maintained her balance. Then he draped his arm around her body pulling her toward him further and he couldn’t help but notice she didn’t pull away. She didn’t make a sound and her facial expression didn’t change.

But Harry felt her body relax into his side, her head dipping ever so slightly toward his shoulder. He smiled softly and brought his lips closer to her ear so she could hear. “Y’don’t have t’lie t’me, Poppy. M’your roommate and all. I know y’like the apartment a toasty temperature.”

She smirked and tilted her head up. Their eyes connected, their mouths only two inches apart. “Thank you,” she said kindly.

Harry really enjoyed holding her.

*

At the end of the night, she rounded up her friends ensuring those who said they could drive actually could and if they couldn’t she called for Ubers until everyone was safely on their way home. Jaylen’s girlfriend, Maya, had her green sweater wrapped around her white pants. She thanked her profusely, drunkenly.

Joey and Matt waved goodbye. “Bye Hot Roommate,” Joey called waving to Harry specifically.

“Jesus, Joey,” Matt rolled his eyes. “Nice meeting you Harry,” he called.

Once everyone was gone, she rubbed her hands on her arms to keep the blood flowing and warming her skin. Harry wrapped his arm over her shoulders again and tucked her into his side as they headed for her parked car a couple blocks away. “Go on a date with me," he spoke straight forward. Hoping if he didn't look, it wouldn't seem like as a massive deal--almost like he would trick her into a date.

She elbowed him. “I can’t go out with a coworker, Harry. Or my roommate for that matter.”

He shrugged. “I’ll ask later,” he boldly kissed the top of her head. Fortunately, she didn't seem to mind. Harry was sure to keep that in his head for future reference. He would most definitely be kissing her again. “You’re an extremely sweet girl, Poppy. Selfless, lovely, kind,” he listed. “Whoever y’end up with, m’going t’be very jealous,” he assured her.

She snorted and laughed quietly under her breath. “Thank you, Harry.”

*

For months it continued with similar routines, feelings, and questions. They grew closer as friends. At work he admired her from his desk from across the office. When she didn’t go to lunch, he reminded her to eat and not work too hard. At home, he grumbled that her loophole of taking the trash out in the daytime was not the point of his promise. He still bought groceries each week trying to figure out all the things she enjoyed eating.  

He helped her clean the apartment and when it was getting cooler outside, she asked to join him at the gym. Her outfits were cute and made guys stare at her as she worked out, unbeknownst to her. She asked for help from Harry which made him feel like he won an Olympic medal. His face was smug as the men in the gym finally stopped looking at her. Thinking Harry was lucky enough to be hers.

It made him happy to help her figure out new machines and with her sets of weightlifting (even though she didn’t like it).

Everywhere they went, people ogled her. She was so kind. Little kids would smile at her in grocery store lines and wave like it was a game of peekaboo. Dogs tugged on their leashes hoping to get a pet from her around the loop she ran in the neighborhood. Their elderly next door neighbor tried telling her a hundred times that she had a grandson her age and he would love to date her (that one drove Harry the most crazy).

She had her head leaning in her palm as she watched the stand mixer beat the brownie ingredients like it was the most interesting thing in the world. But Harry was watching her; so he was, in fact, watching the most interesting thing in the world.

He leaned against the wall just beside the kitchen entrance. “Poppy?” He asked. She looked up at him. “Go on a date with me, please," his expression soft.

She was finally getting used to it. She gave herself a lot of credit. It was pretty crazy she hadn’t caved yet. Harry was so lovely. Not to mention attractive. At the gym, his muscles rippled and glistened with sweat. The outline of every abdominal muscle was sinful. It was a miracle she didn’t drop her own weights or fall on the treadmill when she caught sight of him. It drove her crazy that the women there gazed at him longingly; like he was something to eat. But was she really any better?

She smiled, the blush on her cheeks still prominent, but not as deep. She was used to her heart skipping a beat, the butterflies fluttering in her stomach each time he asked. “That's very sweet, Harry. But I don’t date.”

It was six months since he met her when he finally asked. “Why not?”

She shrugged. He thought she wasn’t going to say anything more, so he frowned, sighed, and headed for the living room to get back to his book. “I just don’t date, Harry. I like being friends,” she told him.

He grumbled something about still being friends even if they dated but she either didn’t hear or pretended not to hear. Either way, it was quiet for a few beats. “If I hadn’t told you I was in love with you that first day, would that have changed your answer?”

She giggled and shook her head. “No.”

“Okay,” he shrugged. Ever determined. He smiled widely at her. “I’ll keep asking then.”

*

When she got dressed up for a family wedding and clicked down the hall in heels and a dress that flowed over her like she was the bride (only wearing green of course, not white). Her hair was curled and pinned so prettily Harry thought he was seeing a real angel in the flesh. “Oh, come on, Poppy,” he groaned and covered his eyes with his hand dramatically. “S’not fighting fair,” he frowned.

She grinned, her cheeks warming more than they had in a while. “I look okay?”

“Stunning,” he grumbled. “M’so jealous I won’t get t’dance with you,” he pouted.

She shook her head. “I don’t usually dance at weddings when I go alone,” she explained.

“Well, y’should’ve told me. I would’ve been your date.”

“Harry—”

“Platonic date,” he rolled his eyes. “This is worse than when y’wore that pencil skirt t’work,” he reminded her. She snickered and shook her head while she looked at her phone. She sucked her lip into her mouth and sighed wincing slightly and then turned to her room again. After several minutes she returned in a different dress. She was equally stunning, but she looked a little forlorn. “An outfit change?”

She nodded. “Yeah,” she shrugged. “My sister is wearing green.”

Harry frowned. “So?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I just...” she shrugged. “It’s alright. I like this dress just fine.”

But it wasn’t green. She looked so pretty in green. It complimented her skin tone so perfectly. She looked stunning. Like she was a queen. “But—”

“Seriously, Harry. It’s fine.”

The muted purple dress looked lovely on her as well. But Harry thought the green made her look otherworldly. He wanted the happiness back in her eye. The light that sparked when he complimented her. “Well when can y’wear it?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Season’s almost over for a wintergreen like that,” she shrugged. “Maybe next year.”

Harry frowned. But then he had a wonderful idea to help both her dress and himself. “Go on a date with me, Poppy.”

The smile reappeared on her face, and she shook her head. “I can’t, Harry.”

“Please? Do it for the sake of that dress,” he pleaded. “We don’t even have t’call it a date. An outing. An adventure. Whatever y’want. Y’jus’ need t’wear it before y’can’t.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Harry. But I can’t.”

He sighed. “You’re welcome, Poppy.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow? I’ll steal you a cupcake. I heard they come from this bakery that I love and if it doesn’t make it home to you, then we’re going to have to go there anyway.”

It didn’t replace a date. But he liked the way she smiled. And going to a bakery together was inherently a couple-y thing to do. So he would take what he could get.

“Sure, Poppy. I’d love to.”

*

She didn’t need people. Needing people had only ever broken her heart. She never asked for help ever. Well...only when they were at the gym but that was a safety thing more than anything.

Even when she should have asked.

Harry didn’t notice until he drove her to a house party that her friends didn’t invite her too. She was sleepy, it was obvious. Leggings, oversized sweater. Her hair was braided loosely and falling apart because she had woken in the middle of the night to answer a message. Harry was in the middle of a good book. Unable to put it down when she ventured into the living room. A yawn falling from her lips. Her eyes barely open. It took several questions and repeated convincing to let him drive her since he was awake, and it looked like she was going to pass out while standing.

Harry insisted on coming in even as she told him to stay in the car, but he refused. She found her friends, her voice was soft as she encouraged Jaylen to leave. A little over his limit and Joey and Maya were about just as gone and unable to convince Jaylen to go with them. A guy from across the room made a joke about Mommy coming to save him. As her pugnacious friend made a turn to deal with the offensive person, she stopped him. She was quick, grabbed his arm, and held tight.

When they returned to the apartment she corralled her friends into their sleeping arrangements. Maya and Jaylen in her bed, Joey on the sofa. “Sorry I took your reading spot,” she whispered as she tucked a blanket around Joey. She snagged another blanket and curled into the only other chair in the living room. “Thank you for driving,” she smiled, closing her sleepy eyes.

“You’re gonna sleep there?” He asked. She nodded, barely moving. Like she was already half-way to dreaming. Harry snagged her out of the chair, cradling her and bringing her to his room.

“Harry,” she protested.

“We’re grown adults,” he reminded her. “We can share a bed without it being weird. S’like a hotel room.”

“Harry,” she repeated, her objection evident in her tone. “I can’t—”

“M’not letting y’sleep in a chair or on the floor. So, it’s m’bed or y’aren’t sleeping,” he shrugged.

She sighed. Too tired to oppose any further, thankfully. Harry laid her atop the covers and draped another blanket over her. He went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and slid beneath his sheets and glanced at the sleeping angel beside him. He smiled. He liked the way she looked in his bed. Liked the way she seemed comfortable and sleepy beside him. His bed felt warm with her beside him. Even though she wasn’t touching him. She smelled good in his room too.

“Night, Harry,” she mumbled.

“Good night, Poppy,” he answered, reached out, squeezed her hand before releasing it so she wouldn’t break a piece of his heart by telling him they shouldn’t.

It was easy to fall asleep with her beside him.

It was even easier to dream of her with her intoxicating presence in his room as well.

*

Harry noticed how drained she seemed when the weather continued to get warmer. Her friends all had birthdays around the same time, and she was a mess of scheduling and reserving birthday dinners and planning things for all of them. Did Harry miss her birthday? He would have to ask. He hoped he didn’t. He hoped her friends would take the time to plan for her the way she did for them.

Work was approaching a busy season, and everyone kept coming to her more and more throughout the day. He could see the anxiety on her face as her growing to-do list looked nearly unmanageable. Harry tried to go to others if he had issues. But every time he asked someone else a question, they called out for Mary Poppins, and she would glance up and look at Harry with a sad smile asking how she could help.

Harry was worried she wasn’t eating her lunch. When everyone else left, her eyes were hidden behind those glasses, her face concentrating and relieved for the reprieve from people calling her name for help with work or needing something like a pen or a screwdriver. Sometimes Harry hated his job. Not because it was difficult. But it seemed like everyone in the office was incompetent. Or weaponizing their incompetence and foisting their tasks onto the lovely woman who would never say no to them.

Her friends did it too. With all the planning and such.

The poor thing looked exhausted. She didn’t join Harry at the gym and her second job seemed like the only time she got to herself. “I miss reading,” she grumbled when she got home late from her shift. She kicked her shoes off and flopped onto the opposite end of the sofa. “My eyes are exhausted though,” she rubbed them for good measure. “I think I would fall asleep if I tried to read. I think I need to wake up earlier and read.”

Harry snorted. “Don’t burn yourself out, Poppy,” he rolled his eyes. “What are y’reading?”

“I’ve been trying t’read this book for months,” she pulled it from the shelf below the coffee table. He had seen it tucked there for a while. He grabbed it from her, skimmed the back of the book, and opened to the first chapter.

Then, he started reading.

Out loud.

“Harry,” she whispered her eyes wide.

“Yeah?” He asked, pointing at the sentence where he stopped and looked at her curiously. “M’starting over, because I want t’know what’s happening,” he smiled. Her face looked so shocked and confused. Sad even. Like she didn’t know what emotion she was supposed to feel.

“You don’t have to—”

He shook his head, and continued reading before she could finish her sentence.

Harry read three chapters before he carried her sleeping self to bed.

*

Something changed in Harry. He almost turned into a stalker. He tracked her movements and routines for a week. He knew most of them. But he really tracked them. The daily ones were easiest. She went for a run in the morning, he followed her lead and didn’t say a word. He went to her favorite coffee shop and paid for her favorite drink for a week’s worth of drinks in advance.

He wished they carpooled, but she was so busy. So he timed his arrival so that he was at the entrance door holding it open for her. When everyone left to get lunch, he heated up her food and brought it to her desk before leaving silently.

One day, there was a note on her dashboard saying she had a full tank of gas. When she arrived home after her second job, she noted her spare car key was on Harry’s key ring. At home, her laundry was in the wash. The shirts she didn’t like to put in the dryer were hung in the bathroom.

Harry could see it. She was cracking. It was the first time someone had done something for her it seemed. The first time someone so selflessly did things for her, anticipated her needs the way she anticipated everyone else’s.

Her throat felt tight as she looked at Harry in the kitchen, making her favorite dinner—a soup that took hours and hours to make.

He didn’t even know it was her birthday that day which made her heart feel sicker than ever.

“Poppy,” he smiled sweetly placing a bowl in front of her exhausted figure.

“Yeah?” She whispered.

If she wasn't so in awe, she would have realized where his tone was. What was coming next. “Go on a date with me, kitten.”

“I can’t.”

“S’not so hard,” he assured her. “You sit across from me and be yourself because m’already in love with you,” he reminded her sweetly. An impish grin on his pretty pink lips. That dimple she wanted to sink her tongue into on display. “I tell y’how stunning y’look, I pay for you t’eat. I feed you a dessert of your choosing that you’re probably too full t’eat and then I can kiss you wherever y’want. Lips, cheek, forehead,” he shrugged. “Then we come home, and I’ll read a chapter of your book. Y’can decide if y’want t’go on a second date.”

She giggled, her cheeks red. “I can’t, Harry,” she looked at him apologetically, but she felt herself melting as much as the soup warmed her insides. It was ridiculous to eat soup in the middle of the summer. But Harry made it for her anyway.

His heart deflated a little. He wasn't kidding. He was definitely in love. He had to be because there was no other way he could explain the feelings he had for her. Someone so thoughtful, so pretty, sweet, and funny.

Harry had asked her out at least a hundred times. Around Christmas, she got her hair cut and he always found her beautiful, but he asked her almost every day following her new hair style for a month straight. Each time she said she couldn't. She didn't date.

For the first time in the near year since he had first asked her, first met her, he realized she said she can’t go on a date with him. She didn’t date. That he was crazy.

Not that she didn’t want to. She didn’t say no.

Hope bloomed inside him.

*

She didn’t need anything. She didn’t need anybody. It was clear someone or maybe many had let her down so many times. He watched her doing everything she could to make this party as nice as humanly possible for Hailey. Not that Hailey didn’t deserve it, but no one had done anything like this for her. Harry only found out it was her birthday after the fact, and he felt like shit for it. Even though she assured him that was one of the best birthdays she ever had.

All he did was make her soup.

She deserved so much more.

It almost seemed too obvious that they hadn’t done anything for her remotely as lovely as she did.

“You’re staring, Styles,” she murmured without looking up from the chair while he lounged on the sofa.

“Go on a date with me,” he smiled.

She blushed, shook her head. “You’re crazy.”

“You haven’t said no.”

"I've said no about a hundred thousand times, Harry," she rolled her eyes.

Why was it now? Why did he want to tell her what he was thinking about the whole situation now? But it was in his chest. He had to say it. Had to tell her.

“No, you’ve never said no,” he shook his head and looked at her head on, while she continued looking at her to do list, her planner. Her poor neglected book waiting to be read by Harry because her tired eyes couldn’t. She looked up at him and smirked. Ready to protest once more, but Harry shook his head again. “I remember everything you've said t'me. I would remember a 'no,' it would probably kill me t’hear y’say, no kitten. Y'call me crazy, y'say y'can’t or that y'don’t date. Never, not once, have y'ever said y'don’t want t'go on a date with me. Nor a flat out no. So m'going t’keep asking until y'say y'don’t want to. Because I think you do want t'go out with me but for some reason y'don't want t'allow yourself t'be happy. T'let someone else in. M'not going t'stop asking. Not until I hear y'say "Harry Styles I would rather die than go on a date with you. I never want to go out with you." Maybe that makes me conceited or creepy. M’sure it does make me crazy. But I don’t care. I want t'go on a date with you. I want t'go on a million dates with you, actually. So m'not giving up until y'call me creepy or y'say y'don’t want to.”

She swallowed like there was something stuck in her throat. Her eyes didn't move from her lap.

"Kitten," he murmured. She didn’t look up. “Poppy,” he whispered. She finally met his green-eyed gaze again. His expression soft, pleading. “Go on a date with me,” his voice was soft. Harry swore his heart stopped beating because if he was wrong, if she really was saying no all those times, he wasn't sure he could ever stop asking her. The idea he would never get to take her out to eat and order her favorite dessert. He wouldn't see a movie and wrap his arm around her shoulders and that was completely unfair. He wanted to offer his jacket to her when it rained and hold her hand while walking through a museum. "Poppy," he repeated.

She bit her lip, her lips opening and closing like she wasn't sure which word was going to pop out. “I can’t,” she whispered. Her eyes looking at him in a way that he could read right through her. They screamed at him, please don’t stop asking me.

As if he could ever. Harry smiled. "Okay," he shrugged, hope and adoration for her flooding him. "I'll ask again tomorrow."

A sad smile graced her face. "You're crazy," she whispered again.

"Only 'bout you, Poppy.”

*

Harry felt like he was getting sick. Probably due to the sweet girl in his apartment who had worn herself so thin and weary that she had inadvertently brought illness home to him. His head was killing him. His pillow was calling for him the way he wished his favorite stubborn woman would call him.

He didn't even know if she was home. But honestly, he was glad. If she knew he was sick, she would dote on him. Even if she was starting to fell unwell. The thoughts of her were never too far from his mind. He would never be too sick, too lost, too far away from her that she could leave his thoughts.

Sleeping was one of his favorite hobbies because he loved to see her in his dreams. Loved to see the unaffected, carefree, beautiful, stubborn woman. The angel that enjoyed affection both giving and receiving.

It was his nightly dream. The one where she snuggled with him, and it was like they had been together twenty years and not zero. The one where he could taste her lips (even if in his dream she tasted like nothing) he knew it was wrong. She probably tasted like chocolate or caramel or something deliriously sweet.

Unfortunately, his phone vibrated below his pillow pulling him from his perfect beautiful dream.

“Harry?”

He squinted at his phone. Head aching, throat sore. Curious as to why he didn’t have the number saved. “Speaking.”

“Oh, thank god,” the voice sighed. “It’s Joey,” she said. “Harry. Something’s wrong. She won’t stop crying and she won’t say anything but your name.”

He leapt out of bed. Illness forgotten even if he was dizzy. His heart thudded like a chorus of drums, and he didn’t even grab shoes as he raced out of his room, snagging his wallet and keys off the counter as he exited the apartment.

He listened to Joey say a few more things. Something about being out at a club. She never left the bar area. There was no way someone had hurt her. But Harry drove through the night with his heart in his throat like someone had hurt her. He wasn’t sure seeing her would even calm him. He knew where Joey lived, fortunately, so he sped as quickly as he could. The ache in his head and his throat was lost behind him along the drive.

He didn’t knock as he hurried barefoot into Joey’s apartment. Matt was coming from the kitchen and making his way down the hall. He looked at Harry sadly as he approached the main room.

“Poppy?” he whispered as he entered the room, her arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to hold herself together. "Kitten," he frowned and knelt in front of her. He picked her face up between his and he scanned her looking for signs of injury. Anxiety was in every inch of his body. But she fell into his arms before he could look any longer. Sobbing harder than when he entered. “M'here. M'here, baby. It’s okay. M'here," he kissed the top of her head, cupping the back of her head with one hand. The other arm winding around her and squeezing her tight to his body. “Oh kitten,” he sighed, sadness coating his voice. His heart ached. Like it was going to snap in half if she cried any longer. “M’sorry, baby. M'here. S’okay. Tell me. Please. I’ll make it better,” he promised.

Her sobs continued, like she was unable to speak. "Harry," she whimpered.

"M'here, Poppy, s'okay," he assured her even if it wasn't. "Baby," he frowned pulling away to look at her her tearful eyes. He tugged her back to his embrace and continued to soothe her. He rubbed his hand up and down her back hoping it was comforting as he hoped it was.

Harry caught Joey's eye, who looked over from the entryway and smiled weakly.

"You good?" She mouthed. Harry nodded and when he glanced back, her friend was gone.

*

Harry kissed the top of her head for the hundredth time. He continued rubbing his hand down her spine. His head was still screaming.

But she was well worth it. Her cheeks were streaked with salt lines. Her eyes puffy and red around the edges. He had pulled her to him so they could snuggle into the corner of the couch. Her body tucked between the back cushion and Harry's body. Like he didn't want anyone to see her if they entered the room.

“Harry?” Her voice was raw.

“Hmm?” He tucked her hair behind her ear and skimmed his fingertip along the same path repeatedly.

“Will you go on a date with me?” She whispered.

He smiled lazily. His heart exploding in his ribcage. “God, Poppy, I don't know. I have t'check m'schedule.” She smacked his chest with no weight behind it. He kissed the top of her head. “I’d take y’right now. Whenever y’want.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing t’be sorry for.”

"I have issues."

"We can work on them together."

"I don't know if you'll..." She trailed off.

"If I'll what?" He brushed his thumb on her cheek.

She took a deep breath. "I love love, Harry. I love watching people get married. I love when people have babies and grow a family. I want to have babies. I love reading romance novels and watching silly rom-coms where you can predict the ending before the movie even starts."

"Sounds pretty romantic and easy, Poppy," he murmured.

She swallowed continuing. "I will do a lot for you because I believe that's the way love is supposed to be. I want to make your life easier, and I want to do things that make you happy because I think happiness and love are in short supply and I want those books and rom-coms to be real."

Harry nodded. "Well—"

"I've never had that. I had a boyfriend for four years and..." she sniffled. "When we broke up, I said that I wouldn't do that again. I wouldn’t devote myself so completely to someone that wouldn't give me half as much. Then I met my next boyfriend and at first, I thought it was right, finally. It was equal. He loved me the right way, I mean. The way I thought I wanted, deserved... But then it was like he got tired of doing things. I don't know. Maybe my love language is acts of service. I don't know. I’m not making sense, I'm sorry. But..." she swallowed. "I broke it off after only two years that time. I just don't think I can be loved the right way... not forever. I don't know. I sound so selfish, don’t I? I don’t know why you want to go out with me so badly. I want someone to love me the way I love them, and I don’t think that’s...fair."

It was why she always had everything. Why she planned and hosted parties. Why she never drank and always took care of her friends. She loved everyone that was lucky to cross paths with her, with her whole, big, beautiful heart.

Harry tilted her chin up. "M’going to love you the right way,” he promised. “M’going to love you the way y’want because that's what y’deserve. If I love you anything less than you deserve then... well... I don't know what, Poppy. If that’s the case m’probably dead because s’the only possible explanation,” she snorted and tears dripped down her cheeks again but not like the night before. “But it's not going to be a problem, kitten. M’going to love you the way your books love. The way a rom-com loves. M’going to love you the way you love everyone that walks into your life. The way you so selflessly devote your kindness to them. M’going to love you the way you love," he promised. “Because s’an honor to love you,” he assured her. “S’an honor to be loved by you.”

She looked away from his gaze, closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his chest. His throat was aching again. He was really tired, but he would suffer her wrath and frustration of going on about this later. He knew that she would be beside herself knowing he was sick and dealing with her anyway. But where else would he be? "Harry," she whispered finally. He met her eyes the back of his fingers skimming her cheek.

"What, Poppy?"

"Do you love me already?"

"Of course I do."

She sniffled, her face crumpling with relief. Like all of it had been a trick up until then. "Okay," she whispered. “Can we go home?”

“Course, kitten,” he kissed the top of her head and moved slowly to get up from the sofa. All of his muscles ached from sickness and from the awkward but perfect position of holding her all night in the cramped little space.

He held his hand out for her to take as she stood next. “Harry,” she whispered softly.

“Hmm?” He hummed and looked at her with a soft expression that made her stomach flip, her heart skipped a beat. "Yeah, Poppy?"

“I’m in love with you too.”

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissitnhekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @indierockgirrl @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060 @triski73 @vikiii07 @prettygurl-2009 @madstyles3204

@angeldavis777 @tchlamqtsgf @lizsogolden @me-undiscovered @you-sunshine

@rose-girls-world @claimingharrystigertattoo

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[gia-d]

Back in October last year, I started reading This is an Adjuration by @not-freyja.

By the time I had made it to chapter 5, I had already started typesetting this story as I read because I knew this would be one of those stories that I needed to have on my shelf.

When I finally caught up to the story at chapter 31, I begged the author to let me bind this when it was finished.

Nearly a year later, and what is probably the most important bind of my life is finally finished. Check out these glamour shots, and if you want to hear more about the actual binding process and about how this fic actually changed my life, see below.

So funny story, before I get into the technical side of this bind, but this fic actually changed my life. Not as in I was greatly emotionally moved by the story, though don't get me wrong I absolutely was, but genuinely this fic introduced me to some of the best people I have ever had to privilege of knowing (Hello Class, you know who you are 🩷), and also, it introduced me to Freyja, the incredibly talented author, who, as I type this, is curled up in bed next to me fast asleep after flying half way around the world to go on a two week long date with me.

Moral of the story folks is comment on the fics you like. You might accidentally meet the love of your life on, and I can't believe I'm saying this, AO3.

Anyways, about the bind!

This bind was a challenge from day 1. I had to do the typeset for this 300k word fic 4 times, and had to split it across 2 volumes. This was the longest fic I have ever attempted to bind, and it was so thick I couldn't get it in the paper trimmer.

To make this book as durable as possible, I attempted a few techniques. I secured it with 3 tapes, I made an Oxford hollow, I rounded the spine, I made a slipcase and I used 2.3mm boards where normally I use 1.8mm.

The slipcase is covered with embossed faux leather, buckram and plain ribbon, and lined with gold satin fabric. I've never made a slipcase before so this was an experience.

The books are covered with an emerald green silk finish bookcloth which really gave the books the luxury they deserved. I foiled custom end papers as well as every chapter title page using heat reactive transfer foil on toner ink (never again I am never doing that again omg it took days). Huge thank you to @la-sera for letting me use her artwork which helped inspire this fic!

The grey flashback chapters I had to use HTV for the border decoration and I'm very happy with how that turned out because it was so easy and straight forward, unfortunately it just wasn't viable for the whole book.

It feels weird to finally have these books done. They have my blood, sweat, tears and my heart poured into them, and I've been working on them for so long that it's odd to actually have them finished. I'm so proud of this bind, and feel like I've grown so much as a fanbinder by making these.

Anyways, if anyone has any questions about the process, please don't hesitate to ask!

(and if you are an Linked Universe fan and haven't read Adjuration yet, this is your sign!)

[perfctvelvet]

Dominant Billie Eilish? 🙏 pretty please

The Games We Play; Billie Eilish/Fem!Reader

Content: 2nd POV. Established relationship, semi-toxic relationship, brief mentions of gaslight, implied infidelity, D/s elements, name calling ('slut'), degradation, teasing, strap-on sex, mentions of ass play, use of sex toys (vibrator).

"I've had enough of the games now, Y/n. You're starting to annoy me."

It was ironic to watch Billie sit at the table and sulk to herself as if she didn't get herself into this situation. These games that she claims to hate oh so much where the ones that she started and wanted to finish once she wasn't getting her way. You have just been with her for way too long not to be able to see her through and through. Billie hated the bitter taste of her own medicine, but she should've thought about that before she brushed you off when you asked about who that was on that instagram post.

You made her watch you flirt with a past fling all night. You could barely remember the lady's name when you two first bumped into her, but quickly she became valuable to you. All you had asked for was honesty about a post that was posted to tens of millions of people, but instead you were shut out. Billie brought this on herself, and it felt good to see her sitting there feeling sorry for you.

"Ooh, tell me more about your trip to Greece! I've been waiting to go, but sometimes it's hard when others won't cooperate with their schedules."

Billie was within earshot of the entire conversation and you didn't spare her one bit. You left her emotionally beaten and bruised every time you laid a hand on the body of someone you came close to being with years ago. Your attraction had faded greatly as you only had eyes for your girlfriend now, but Billie doesn't know that and at this moment anyone would think that the relationship was on its last legs. But just like you know Billie, she knows you too well for her own good. You were trying to make her feel the same way you did over an instagram post. Well, you had one the battle as your attempts to make Billie jealous was working, but Billie was well intentioned on winning the war.

Now as she confronts you about the only thing you can do is play dumb. You weren't going to give her the upper hand by outright admitting what you were doing. The way she dismissed you about posting photos of another girl damn near straddling her kept you up for days. Those 3 to 4 hours of sleep left you irritable and willing to do anything to get your point across. So in your eyes, you're not doing anything worse your girlfriend hasn't done.

"What are you talking about?" You asked her, cocking your head to the side and feigning innocence. 

Normally your pout was endearing but right now Billie wanted to fuck it off your face. Still surrounded by strangers who could possibly hear your conversation, Billie gives a deep sigh and she hangs her head down. It was a sign of utter defeat to you.

"Y/n," she sighs before leaning in and whispering, "You really want to do this right now?"

Those simple words were a warning shot. Billie didn't have to say much else. She didn't have to explain that she knows you after being together for two years. She didn't have to explain that they've done this song and dance before and that it's getting stale. Both are committed and faithful to this relationship, but sometimes things get hazy and the relationship is tested. Billie knows she's in the wrong, but getting those words to come out of her mouth is like pulling teeth. You two should be passed this stage, especially as you get older together, but clearly both of you are wrong. When one of you acts up, the other feels like they have no choice but to retaliate and somehow you're always the one always having to retaliate.

You don't want to hear it from her. You don't want to sit in the car on the way home and hear her give you some holier-than-thou speech as if she's the mature one in the relationship. It was easier to talk to you like that when you were side by side and she didn't have to look you in the eyes and act like she didn't do what she did. Did it feel good to flirt with someone you're no longer interested in? No, that part didn't feel good, but being able to glance over and see Billie sulking while surrounded by happy, partying people, it was better than any high or shot of alcohol here tonight.

"What am I doing? I'm at a party that you're ruining the vibe because you want to sit there and feel sorry for yourself. Get up, go talk to your friends." You didn't have much else to say to her and she kept her mouth shut too. Billie had nothing to say. Have you succeeded?

Billie was never afraid to drag out an argument, even in a setting like this. There was the great texting fiasco of Summer 2023 that ended with you staying at your friend's place for the weekend. So she was uncharacteristically quiet now. And in a surprising move, she just smiled at you. Your faces were so close together you thought she was going to kiss, but instead she leaned back. She grabbed her glass filled with whatever she had and brought it to her lips. Never did she pull her eyes away from you and you felt your grip on the situation loosening. You don't know what it means for you, for tonight and for the future, but you stepped away from her. You turned your back to her and joined a group of mutual friends. The former fling you were flirting with was nowhere to be found, but it didn't matter anymore. 

You felt Billie's eyes burning a hole right through you for the rest of the night. Despite the room being so loud, there was a ringing in your ears that dulled the sound of everything around you. You don't know how you were able to make it through the rest of the night acting like you usual self. The end of the night and car ride home were unbearable and equally silent. Billie's steady breathing was the only sound to fill your ears; so calm yet just as loud as the club's bass in your ears. The little battle you had earlier? It meant nothing now. Whatever victory you felt was replaced by the dread of worrying what was to come next. You expected a screaming match to take place as soon as the two of you crossed past that threshold into Billie's house. Instead Billie decided to do something she hasn't tried before. She was going to fuck the problem away.

Billie was pissed. The way she grabbed you, you don't think you've seen her so mad before. The two of you are no strangers to things getting a little rough, but there was so much more raw and animalistic about the way she touched you, the way she kissed you. Billie was gunning to win the war and she was going to disarm you in the best way she knew how. You don't understand how pissed she was seeing your flirt with an old fling like that, and what annoyed her the most is that you looked to actually be having a good time. She saw how you looked at this woman who has no name to her. You looked at her as if she meant something. Billie thought the photo she uploaded was to be expected from her and her friends. She thought you knew that sometimes one of them gets a little handsy but there was never any ill-intention behind it. Hell, you've seen it happen in front of your very eyes before and you didn't react. To her the difference between the post and what you did was that you intended to make the situation worse. You looked so into this woman, looking at her the same way you've looked at Billie before. Those eyes are only for her.

Billie wasn't nice or sweet tonight. She didn't tease you or suck on your tits for almost an hour like she usually loves to do. You were pushed onto the bed, face down ass up. You weren't able to see anything with your face in the covers. You had to guess what was happening based on the sounds around you. Billie was stealthy and quick, not giving you a second to adjust to what was going on. You felt something cool and wet hitting between your cheeks. You cursed yourself for not wearing underwear tonight, giving Billie easy access to both of your holes to do whatever she wanted with you. You felt something poke at your entrance and soon you were filled with 8 inches of thickness. The air was plucked right out of you as Billie pushed her strap all the way inside. She watched in awe how your arousal bursted through the seams. She pulled out and your juices had already completely covered her strap.

Billie pushes back into you after a few seconds. She started at a slow pace before gradually picking up speed, fucking you harder and faster. The residual anger from your little stunt tonight was fuleing her. When a girl acts up, sometimes she needs to be put in her place.

"You wanna tell me who that was tonight? Who was that girl, Y/n!"

You feel her grab a handful of your hair and she pulls your face out the bed. Her grip was tight enough to feel a prickly sensation on the edge of your scalp. You pulled your head back further to alleviate the pain. The question she asked you had completely slipped your mind as she filled your poor pussy with every inch of her strap. Billie didn't take so kindly to being ignored, so she asked you again. You could barely speak, but you tried your best.

"W-What girl?" You stutter through each thrust.

"Still playing dumb, huh?"

There was a tinge of playfulness in Billie's voice that could've you if you weren't getting fucked so hard. You were still trying to play the game she was built to beat you at. However, that girl doesn't matter to you and certainly she's irrelevant now. Your skin was flushed and sweaty. The sound of Billie's thighs meeting your ass reverberates in the room. How could you be thinking about some other woman when you're getting fucked within an inch of your life.

"If you wanted to be fucked like this baby all you had to do was laugh. You don't have to fight for my attention when you have it 24/7 sweetheart," Billie teased you with such a clear voice that amazed you she was able to concentrate on making you feel so small and fucking you skillfully. "You knew exactly what you were doing tonight, but you won't want to try that again after I'm done fucking this little pussy of yours."

Her words began to sound fuzzy as the tip of her strap kept agitating your sweet spot. You could barely keep yourself up, your arms giving away. The only thing keeping you up right now was Billie's tight grip on your hair. You were about to cum; dangerously close. All the tell-tale signs of your orgasm began firing off and that just happen to be the moment when Billie decided to pull out of you. You could whine and cry all you want, but Billie still pushed you off her strap. Your orgasm, the one you so desperately wanted, shuttered away as you sobbed into the sheets. You were surely a sight to take in. The strap rests against your ass, smearing your juices into your skin.

"Did you really think I was going to let you cum so fast? You really think you deserve that princess?"

Leave it to Billie to not give in so easily -- you should've seen this coming. You push yourself up on your palms until you're pushed back down onto the bed. Billie didn't have to use much force either which made her laugh at you. You were so weak and you hadn't even cum yet. 

"Pick a number, baby."

You thought you were hearing her wrong. Did she just ask you to pick a fucking number?

"Pick a number. 1-3."

It was stupid to indulge in whatever game she was playing, but you lifted your head and opened your mouth to utter, "2." You don't know why you even answered.

"Hmm," Billie hums. It's hard to read such a small reaction.

The sound of the drawer opening happens again. You don't have to see to know she's grabbing from the bottom "special" drawer, where she got the strap-on from. There were a few other toys in there and you suspect that's where the game comes in at.

"It's too bad you didn't pick 1, but I guess you spared your little ass tonight."

You were just spread out so perfectly for the buttplug she hasn't used on you yet. Billie would've been able to see her reflection in the shiny metal as it slipped into your tightest hole. Stretching your ass out while fucking you would've ruined you, you haven't tried that out yet. She imagines that you would've been begging her for forgiveness and permission to cum. Even seeing it in her active imagination makes her heart skip a beat. But, fate has decided for her and she's going to make the most of it.

The wand you unintentionally picked had only been used about two or three times. It's vibrations were so strong, something you felt like you had to get use to. Only on it's lowest setting were you able to handle it. Something powered only by batteries yet it was so powerful you were seeing stars the first time you used it.

"Get up."

Billie gave you the command but then she was moving your body herself. She laid on the bed and signaled for you to get on top of her. You go to straddle her before she stops you.

"Uh-uh. Turn the other way."

She made you turn away from and in the direction of a mirror. For the first time since going out tonight, you got a glimpse of yourself. Your hair looked a mess and your makeup had smudged a lot. Spit was drying in the corner of your mouth. You should've been ashamed about how you look and how Billie was slutting you out, but it made your pussy drip on Billie's skin. One, two, three she felt the drops of your arousal on her bare skin. She groaned, showing a moment of weakness for a second. Right then she knew she had to get you on her strap. She lowered you down with one hand. Somehow her strap felt so much bigger when you were sinking down on it this way. The way the girth stretched out just felt different when you were any other position. Billie doesn't fuck you in reverse cowgirl often so you were willing to underestimate her ability to fuck you as hard as you need like this, but quickly you were proven wrong.

Your skin slapped together harder and your tits bounce with every thrust up into your swollen twat. You thought it was a lot to handle until you felt the vibrations from the wand against your pussy. The slew of moans that fell from your lips were louder than before.

"Good girl! Keep moaning for me baby, show me just how much you love being fucked like this. Only I can fuck you like this."

Words like this were meant to only affect you, to drive home the point that you were a slut for Billie and Billie only, but somehow she fueled her own desire. She was fucking up into you with reckless abandon. You were so close to losing your mind from being fucked like that from below while the vibrator was placed firmly against your swollen clit. You had no choice but to endure it as your eyes rolled in the back of your head. 

"Whose pussy's this? Who does this pussy belong to, girl," the way she addressed you and the stinging grip on your hip made you spiral. Billie has flirted with degrading you more and more in bed, but tonight she spoke as if this came natural to her. She questioned as if something would happen if you didn't answer her. The worst thing she, or anyone else, could do to you at this moment is deny you of another sweet release. It's a miracle you're not squirting all over her strap that bullying its way into you. The head of her strap hits your cervix so deliciously. She questions you as if you're capable of speaking right now when the vibrator is sending you into orbit. You've officially been rendered stupid and unable to form words.

It takes a solid minute and everything inside of you to be able to muster up the energy to be able to answer you.

"Yours! Oh god it's yours!" You force out with a desperate cry. Your body is beginning to hunch over in weakness as she continues to pound you. You've never felt so pathetic in your life, unable to stand your ground, but never did failure feel so good. The stretch and the buzz was addicting and you were ready to let go of everything that's been pent up inside of your body.

The way you answer satisfies Billie, finally. The sobs of your pure devotion made relief wash over her. She's happy.

She doesn't stop her pounding until you're cumming and crying out loudly for her. Your toes curl as you come the hardest you have in a long, long time. Billie's grip on you was still harsh, painful even, causing the pain to mix with your everlasting pleasure. This is what might be the longest orgasm of your life and it comes after another stalemate in your relationship.

It was almost impossible to be able to come back to reality. You didn't even notice the vibrator had been turned off and discarded onto the bed until Billie stopped pumping into you completely. Satisfaction stirred deep in your hips as you sat there with her strap situated inside of you. Billie was holding you up with both hands now as if you would fall apart into a million pieces if she let go. And let go she never did.

Your heavy limbs find relief when you're laid against the bed. It feels like you're floating on a cloud compared to how it felt before. You were in a state of disbelief, asking yourself, 'did that shit really happen?' 

You weren't going to regain your composure after that, and you weren't going to even try. Billie is already up and moving around, disappearing for a few minutes before she comes back with a wet towel waiting to clean you up. She pushes your legs apart and gently rubs the warm towel against your sensitive skin.

"I think you left a present over there."

She nods her head in the direction of the wet spot on the bed. Did you squirt? You don't even have a fucking clue if you did or not but you hide your face in your hands anyway.

"Oh god," you groan.

"We can always sleep in the other room."

"I don't think I can move, Bil."

You had a million and one questions, but you were utterly worn out and Billie's face was flushed pink from all the work she put in. You two have more to answer for in the morning, and a need to explain why you both acted up so much. Seeing you so vulnerable made the words 'I'm sorry, I was wrong' want to bubble up in Billie's throat. Instead she kisses the two sweet thighs she loves so much. The nonverbal apology will always come before remorseful words out of Billie's lips. Holding you until you fall asleep will stand in just for the night.

[novella-november]

Not to harsh your joy regarding your personal project, (which does sound awesome!) the fact that you keep answering the "can I do fanfic?" questions with "technically yes, but have you considered not doing that?" does not actually *feel* very fanfic friendly. (Especially for anyone who enjoys fanfic as a hobby and isn't also an ofic writer. For example, I personally write almost exclusively character studies that are an explicit reaction to canon; there is no real way to write that sort of thing except as fanfic.)

Which is just a long-winded way of requesting that you maybe consider less of a caveat with the FAQ if you make one, please.

oh that was definitely not my intention, thanks for the ask! I think it was mostly just because I got that same question a few times in a row from various anons within the same time span (including some that were not published publicly), it just happened that I was thinking of my own project(s, plural now) in the last day when I answered those two, for those who want an extra creative challenge.

There's a reason my own original thing has been in my head for the last ten years without me actually writing it while I've written and posted tons of fanfiction, and even now some of my original works are going to be based on Arsene Lupin, so they'd technically be considered fanfiction since they're based on and use an established work for the characters and settings --

--writing completely original fic *is* harder, and that's exactly why I'm *suggesting* (not requiring!) that people consider taking 1 out of short story 4 challenges to look at their work in a new light.

90% of what I read and (until I actually start and finish my original works) 100% of what I've written in my life is fanfic. I have nothing against fanfic, otherwise I woudn't even be interested in creative writing.

But its also not a diss to say "Would you consider looking at your [fanfic] writing from a new angle and try to figure out different ways of going about it?"

Honestly, being able to even consider this option *as a fun extra challenge* is meant to help improve your writing and creative skills; it's not meant as a cheap shot at people who choose to write fanfiction because I my self write and read tons of it,

it's me saying "if you want even more practice at creative writing during these monthly challenges, try branching out a little bit from your comfort zone, you may be pleasantly surprised."

People who write and read fanfiction already have tons of creative experience, and if people like me and many other fanfic writers who one day dream of being published authors, want to broaden our horizons and seek new experiences, one of the easiest exercises is to take something we're planning on writing or already wrote, and see what we would change to make it brand new and standalone--

-- something that not only helps you come up with new ideas, but also will help when it comes time to *edit*, which can be, depending on the length and complexity of your story, can be a complicated process:

whether that means having to delete scenes entirely,

changing what a character says,

altering an aspect of the worldbuilding to fix plot holes

, re-writing your character so they're not overpowered because it was ruining the stakes and tension,

changing the POV of chapters because it was ruining the flow of the story,

etc etc etc.

I love fan fiction.

I love reading it and I love writing it, and for many people who take on monthly writing challenges, it is a way to test ourselves and gear ourselves up and prove to ourselves that not only can we write x amount of words, but it proves to ourselves that we are *capable of creating*, and for many creatives, that ultimately leads to crafting our own unique stories;

if you're already taking place in a monthly writing challenge, why not push the bounds a little bit *if you're so inclined* and test the waters? Especially when you're surrounded by a community who is cheering you on, every step of the way?

Every Nanowrimo I ever won was fanfiction. Heck, even not during November I once did 40k words in two weeks for a fic.

I always stalled out when I tried to write original works;

it is much easier to start small with a single short story than it is to try to write an entirely original novel, and my encouraging people to try baby steps by *experimenting* with one short story out of four in a month is not meant to be a diss against fanfiction,

but an *encouragement to those like me* who were so eager to write original works but floundered when I tried to jump into the deep end and felt disheartened.

Many fanfic authors aspire to write original fics, and thats who that challenge is for, for the people who want to write original works but are too afraid to fully commit; I'll still be writing and posting fanfiction even if I become a published author, even If I just have to come up with a few new pen-names to post them under.

There's absolutely no judgement on anyone who wants to write fanfiction for these challenges, my "caveat" as you say, is only there as encouragement to those like me who are afraid to take the first step, or uncertain of how to even *begin* that first step, not any kind of condemnation.

TL;DR:

I did not mean for my responses on the "can I write fanfiction" to come off as rude or looking down on fanfiction, its meant to be an encouragment to all the people like me who love fanfic and started out writing fanfiction, and dream of writing original works to take the first step, with a community of like-minded people all taking the same challenge.

Like every other challenge aspect of these events, taking a fanfic idea and turning it into an original short story is completely optional and meant as inspiration, just like following prompts for events is not mandatory, and even completing the 30k word goal is not mandatory; the goal for this month is to create, get in the habit of creating, and having fun with it!

[krazehkai]

Hi there Kai! I've been following you for a long time and so when I found out you were hired to make the the 4*Town manga, I was so happy for you!! Planning to get my own copy someday but for now just read a copy from the library, and it was amaazing! 😭💖 My fave Lonbin artist made an official manga!! I bought your doujins before so seeing how far you've come is just a surreal feeling.

Have you ever talked about how it was like to make an official manga and get it printed? I'm curious as to how the experience and process was like for you. (unless there was an NDA you had to sign or something, then I totally understand)

Hello! Firstly, thank you for sticking around this long! Haha

And yes, I was the artist who drew for the 4*Town manga adaptation which I've officially debuted under the artist pen name KAIfee. I don't think I made an announcement here, but now everyone knows~ Unfortunately I can't get into details about the project specifically but I can say that I was approached for the job by VIZ Media's team to work with Dirchansky (the story writer) which then proceeded from there to the finished book.

If anything, in the future I'd love to go into details about making manga/comics on my Youtube channel ~ Until then, thank you again for reading 4*Town and I hope you enjoyed it! : )

[witchdisk]

Skin Removal Sep 17 Postmortem

A few days ago I performed another skin removal procedure. (See #skin removal for more) Here's a writeup of some of the things we learned this time.

The #10 scalpel blade is useful for long+thin removals because the blade is longer. This lets us do the sort of "long, loving cuts" while pulling up the skin, under tension, using the full length of the blade. This is faster than the #15, but you still want that one for precision at the beginning and end.

For this design, there were certain cuts which we wanted to be along the same line, like the edges of the eyelashes:

When doing the procedure, I did each of the eyelashes separately, so I did these cuts at different times. I should have used the sterile ruler that comes packaged with the surgical skin pens and made these cuts all at the same time. This would have helped make sure they're in line.

This time I used sterile dermal curettes to even out the depth after removing the skin. This was a great idea and it made this step so much easier. I used the 4mm curette for this procedure, and I only needed one. I will be recommending this going forward. Here's the tool and me using it:

Have multiple sets of splinter forceps!! (Or whatever your main forceps are.) I had backup adson and hemostatic forceps, but I was acutely aware the procedure would get a lot harder if I dropped my tools. This isn't relevant if you have a flash sterilizer, but those are kind of expensive.

Ask your subject what kind of communication they want from you! This time, xe said "if you had told me [we're halfway done] I don't think I would have been able to finish." Good thing I didn't do that!

EMLA cream (lidocaine 2.5%/prilocaine 2.5%) is quite useful to help those with a lower pain tolerance. It pretty much eliminated the pain from the cutting, but not all the sensations (e.g. skin being pulled up, felt sense of something wrong ("felt like something i could not perceive but my body was reacting to"). I have some prescribed because I've been scared of needles, and the numbing helps with getting blood drawn.

We already know this, but just to reiterate: it's important to get the correct depth on the guiding lines. The skin should separate, like this:

Using sterile bordered gauze + hydrogel for the wound dressing did not work this time. It dried on the wound, and removing the bandage to clean resulted in mechanical debridement. This hurt a lot and irritated the wound in ways that we hadn't planned for. Using tegaderm initially, like we did two times ago, was also not ideal because it resulted in a big gross bubble of exudate. Something in-between these is required, but I'm not sure what. It should stay moist, but still be relatively absorbent. Tegaderm+pad, for the occlusiveness? Recs here appreciated. Pigeon reported it used a bunch of saline to soak the area to help with this, but there were still some issues.

The lines ended up thicker than in the design. We think this is mainly because skin tension pulled the cuts open. This may be mitigated by wound contraction during healing; we will measure how it ends up vs the desired width to determine that. See this video of me removing a full section to see what I mean.

The loupe glasses!! As seen below. These were some cheap ones I got off amazon, but were actually super helpful. They didn't really improve my posture, and my back still hurts >.< However, they did help me see details a lot better. If I keep doing this I will consider getting a better pair. They gave me a headache after about 30 minutes while practicing, but were totally fine during the procedure. Unsure why!

I need to work on my aseptic technique. I was not adequately monitoring for reaching over the sterile field. My gloves should have covered my sleeves, but there was bare skin exposed. My gown was not sterile (haven't found sterile ones for a reasonable price) and it probably touched the drape a few times. The sterilization pouches I used were difficult to use for the bowls I had - difficult to get them out easily, difficult to load in the pressure cooker. I should really look into getting a secondhand rigid sterilization container. Last I remember, the difficulty was finding filters for these. Maybe I wasn't looking in the right place, or maybe I could make my own (tyvek? like the mushroom growers use...).

My informed consent notes mention the risk of keloid scarring, with a note this is 15x more likely on darker skin. I don't have a source cited for this, and so I don't know how this applies to black vs brown skin. This would have been useful to know!

Needed to print/laminate the handwash/handrub posters.

Re-affirmed a lot of things we already learned. Full-depth removal is the way to go. Ensure guiding lines are deep enough. #11 blade for short/straight lines, #15 for removal, and having separate scalpel handles for each is good.

Dumb one, but having a bunch of tiny individually wrapped gauze pads is annoying as hell. I picked up some bigger ones, we will see if those are what is needed or if I need to find packs of multiple smaller ones.

I'm gonna give it one more go, but I don't actually think pig skin is ideal to practice on, mostly due to the lack of blood/lack of elasticity. Much more difficult to determine the appropriate layer to separate skin at, compared to live human skin. Would appreciate other recommendations here for practice materials...

Okay, I think that's about all the thoughts I want to write out now! I will meld these notes with my existing ones soon, and get those published. As always pls hmu if you want to talk about this, especially if you have experience.

[spear-gsun]

Happy 20 years to the Imperishable Night

[daily-odile]

AUGH I’d love to see more time looping odile if possible,,,,, how do you think she’d like; “devolve” over each of the acts as compared to Siffrin over time :O

ok im gonna be honest i did like portrait edits months ago and just never finished them. so here you go

act 3:

act 5:

[demaparbat-hp]

Almost

[can-of-slorgs]

The other researchers are also here! (magical edition!)

[ruvviks]

The resistance has fallen. Mac and Layla and their friends have been driven out of Los Angeles and are hunted down by Matrix Corp, the corporation now proven to have played a rather antagonistic part in the pandemic that unleashed bloodthirsty zombies upon the world. With no foot to stand on and no safe home to fall back on, the group has to trek back into the wasteland to reunite with some old friends— in hopes to find the stability they need to work on a plan to take Matrix down once and for all. But strange things are happening in the wastes of the United States. Ghouls are becoming smarter, and stronger— and the sudden appearance of a series of strange and hostile settlements tells the group a new player has entered the game, and they are out for blood. [SEASON ONE HERE] // [SEASON TWO HERE]

taglist (opt in/out)

@shellibisshe, @florbelles, @ncytiri, @bialanwake, @stars-of-the-heart;

@lestatlioncunt, @katsigian, @radioactiveshitstorm, @estevnys, @adelaidedrubman;

@celticwoman, @rindemption, @carlosoliveiraa, @noirapocalypto, @dickytwister;

@killerspinal, @euryalex, @ri-a-rose, @velocitic, @thedeadthree;

@kanos, @swordcoasts, @ordinarymaine, @claudiawolf, @strafethesesinners;

@mnwlk

[deoidesign]

HI I think I sent an ask a while back about having recently found TaTA and a) if it came off as trying to rush/guilt you. I am so sorry because that was NOT my intent, and b) I can hugely guarantee you have at least one person who will eat up any return, no matter when it happens, because I care about the guys so much 🥺 really looking forward to whatever comes next!!

Oh, I appreciate this a lot thank you!

Tbh it's a stress I would have regardless of anyone asking me about it, I'm probably the biggest one rushing and guilting myself on it. Which might contribute to some of the burnout I had...

My complaints are more about people who are demanding "more content daddy" or asking me if I'm dead or asking on every single post I make where it is... Wondering when it's coming back is completely reasonable, it's been a long time! but there's definitely a line haha

my editor also keeps randomly scheduling me and then saying "oh, btw you're scheduled to return in 3 weeks. Is that alright?" And I have to keep saying no, that's not alright??? And then dealing with that process...

I could write an essay about all the reasons it's not back yet, but that doesn't help me feel any less pressured, and it doesn't help you all get the rest of the comic any faster...

As of right now I'm scheduled to and trying to return october 21. No official announcement yet cause I have to do a lot of work in that time, but it's my official goal at least. When we get closer I'll be able to say for sure whether it's coming back on that date!

[holocene-sims]

just a guy and his snowpal ⛄❄️

[sky-squido]

i, like every other fic author in existence, love getting comments from people who enjoyed my work. i don't care if your comment is "late" (that's so weird to me like it's literature—do you apologize to homer for being late to reading the odyssey?) or "unintelligible" (late night commenters, english language learners, people who feel like they "just aren't that good with words", believe me, i entirely understand what you mean and appreciate it immensely), or anything else that you feel might make your comment 'not good enough'. i love all of the comments i receive and i am eternally grateful to all of you for your continued support.

and yeah, i've read fics where i felt like adding a comment would be doing the fic a disservice because there was nothing that could be said that wouldn't cheapen or patronize the magnum opus i'd just witnessed. in instances like this, that is exactly what i say in the comment: "there's nothing i can say that doesn't do this work of art a disservice. thank you for writing this."

actually, now that i think about it, there are a bunch of ao3 comments i've gotten that i still haven't replied to because i felt any thanks i could give would be inadequate. i should really get around to replying because i want them to know how spellbound they left me. i love you all, have i ever mentioned that?

all of that being said, i would like to make a public service announcement!

at least under default settings, ao3 authors do get notified every time you edit a comment. i've accidentally hit send too early before, or realized i forgot something i wanted to say, i get it, i really do. i have edited many comments in my day.

but you don't have to do this. really, it's okay. most of the time i honestly can't tell what the difference is. i'm not going to think worse of you for having typos in your comments because i guarantee that there were more in the fic you just read sfkljghsl

also these edits were over the course of twenty full minutes. i got another email while writing this post and had to update the image. please do not spend 20 minutes agonizing over your comment and changing the capitalization and adding a few words. it's okay, i promise. i love your comment, and i'm very very grateful for it, regardless of how "polished" it is. i'm not your english teacher in disguise.

tl;dr, i love you all and i hope you don't feel anxiety or a compulsion towards perfectionism in my ao3 comments section. i won't judge you, i promise <3

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Quest for a Cure (LU in Healthcare War Era)

Sicktember prompt 2 is here! :D @hermitdrabbles56 @socialc1imb I know you wanted to see this plot. :)

(AO3 link)

His entire body hurt so much. It wasn’t the worst pain he’d ever been in, but by heaven it was unpleasant. What was more alarming, though, was the distinct sense of dread that was steadily building in his stomach, a knowledge of oncoming darkness that couldn’t be pierced, a strange peace and anxiety fighting for control as something so unquestionably inevitable slowly edged ever closer.

Time swallowed thickly, trying to open his eyes. By all things holy, I certainly am being dramatic this evening.

Yes. Yes, he was just being dramatic. That’s what the logical side of his brain was saying, at least. The side that was desperately trying to maintain control as it slipped through his fingers. The rest of his mind was registering how utterly weak he was, how he hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in at least two days (from what he could reckon), how someone was at his side constantly, how this virus had hit others and was more than capable of snuffing out its victims.

The darkness was pierced with light, dim and flickering—he really needed to change that lightbulb, didn’t he?—and he saw three silhouettes over him.

Saria? Sheik? No, none of the figures matched their physiques. The blurred edges of those over him started to clear, just enough for him to see familiar faces.

His Lost Boys.

Warriors, Sky, and Wind were watching him with varying expressions of concern. Wind’s eyes were wide and worried, fear evident in his constricted brow. Sky was more distant, anxiety held at bay by sheer force of will but still clearly showing through his expressive face, however muted he tried to make it. Warriors just looked exhausted, a dread shrouding him and making him look far older than he actually was.

Time tried to smile, but he knew it looked as strained as it felt. “What’s with the long faces?”

“You’re definitely not going to work today, old man,” Warriors said with a carefully light tone. “I see the night didn’t treat you well.”

“Are you feeling any better than before? You look awful,” Wind asked, his voice trembling.

Time swallowed thickly. He’d physically been through worse, he knew, but…

He was a trauma surgeon. He fixed things. A laceration was simple, an illness…

Damn it all. There was a reason he didn’t go into internal medicine. He hated how helpless he felt. He hated how scared his boys looked. He hated how he knew in his bones that this was not going to be an easy illness to overcome… assuming he would even overcome it.

“I’ll be up and about soon, Nugget,” Time answered to reassure them, even if he was lying through his teeth. Wind brown uncurled a hair, the tension in his face releasing for a moment, and Time thought he’d almost succeeded. Sky and Warriors, on the other hand, had hardly changed their expressions.

“Please try to rest,” Sky said so softly that Time almost missed it entirely.

Time watched the boy and stretched a trembling hand out to take his. Sky slowly took it. His hand felt so warm in Time’s frozen grip that it brought a little sigh of relief through the surgeon’s lips.

He wanted to say something, anything. Some anxious thought in the back of his mind said this might be his last chance to do so. He really didn’t appreciate the sentiment behind that, but…

If it was his time, then it was his time, he supposed. His gaze passed theirs, up to the ceiling. You have lousy timing, you know. Why would you take me away now, when I have children to look after? To finally find companionship and family, to finally find a purpose once more, to finally feel as if I belong, only to be ripped away and leave them bereft… what a terrible fate.

Despite his ire at the situation, despite his worry for his boys, Time felt his eyes closing once more, and the darkness consumed him.

As the surgeon’s eyes closed and he let out a shaky breath, the three others in the room tensed once more. Sky hated feeling how limp Time’s hold was on his hand, and he stepped away, hugging himself as Wind slid in to replace him. He took a fortifying, slow breath, leaning against the doorway while Warriors took the washcloth from Time’s forehead and dipped it in a bowl of ice water.

“So is he feeling better…?” Wind questioned hesitantly, suddenly not so sure of Time’s reassurance.

“No,” Warriors answered curtly, and Sky winced. The nurse was clearly not pleased with what he was seeing, and it made Sky worry even more.

“You think it’s going to get that bad?” Sky asked hesitantly, his voice quiet.

Warriors sighed as he wrung the cloth out. “I don’t know. I’ve seen it sweeping through barracks, though. It hits everyone to varying degrees. Some people just feel run down and bedridden, and others…”

The rest of his sentence hung heavily in the air.

Wind burst out, “But you guys are medical people! There’s a hospital right here!”

“It’s a field hospital, kiddo,” Warriors clarified as he wiped the sweat off Time’s brow once more. “We stabilize, do emergency surgeries, and then ship them somewhere more equipped to handle a long-term stay and recovery. Besides, the medicine to treat this virus is expensive, they’re not going to ship it out here unless it’s taking out the troops in droves, and it isn’t. Time wouldn’t be staying here, and his illness isn’t something we have medicine for. Either he’s going to get through it or someone will fly him out of here.”

Sky shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t usually fly people from the field hospital to the fully equipped military hospital in the Gerudo capital. He hadn’t seen a piece of land that wasn’t involved in the conflict since he’d finished basic training. The capital was very much in a safe location and therefore not his priority. Time would be protected there, but…

“We’d never see him again! What if they transfer him from there or something?!” Wind exclaimed.

“You don’t know that—” Warriors tried to reassure, but now the teenager was frantic.

“No! This is stupid, why does everyone have to keep leaving—” Wind growled, turning towards the door, and then he stopped with a heavy sigh. “I’m… I’m sorry. I know you’re dealing with a lot.”

“It’s okay, Sailor,” Warriors replied with a kind smile, though Wind didn’t see it.

Sky looked between the pair, and then his eyes settled on Time’s pale face, already drenched once again in sweat. He wasn’t winning this fight and Sky knew it. Thoughts clouded his mind so much he couldn’t put words to them or string a coherent sentence together. He settled for putting a gentle, reassuring hand on Wind’s shoulder.

Then sudden clarity struck him. His lips pressed firmly against each other, and his fingers curled into Wind’s shoulder, catching the teenager’s attention. Sky motioned towards the hallway with his head.

“We’ll be back later,” Sky said to Warriors, who gave a simple nod.

When the door to Time’s room closed, Wind said, “I know I shouldn’t have yelled. Can we do something to help them, though? I can bring Wars food or something.”

“I have a better idea,” Sky said, a smile starting to pull at his lips. “This virus is pretty common to this area. Which means somebody has to have medicine for it closer than the capital. I think the nearest enemy camp in the town ought to be a good place to start.”

Wind gasped, immediately catching on to what Sky was implying. “Hell yeah! I know all the ways to get in there too!”

Sky smiled as the boy’s face practically glowed. There were likely a hundred rules Sky was breaking in even suggesting this, but he didn’t care. Time was seriously ill, and Sky knew the enemy had to have medicine for such a thing. Sure, the local village might not have it, nor would their military base, but many of the enemies they were fighting here were locals, and they had been dealing with this for ages. He also knew from flybys where their nearby camp was – the nearest one, at least, and the one that was based in a town, which meant it likely had the medicine.

And he had a kid who knew how to sneak in and out of said encampment.

It was time to help their friend.

Sky guided Wind to his own quarters. His roommate thankfully was out, which gave him the opportunity to plan things out somewhere as private as possible. He quickly pulled out desert camouflage attire, putting it on and glancing at Wind, who waved him off.

“I’m small, I sneak in and out of there without it all the time,” the kid reassured him with a smile. His easy confidence both amused Sky and made him uneasy. For a moment he realized the gravity of what he was asking of a fourteen-year-old. Time’s pain-stricken face floated into his mind, though, and his anxieties over losing him overruled the concern. Besides, Wind had said it himself – he’d snuck in and out plenty of times. It wasn’t fair to ask this of the kid, but Sky did have to wonder how well they’d fare if the army utilized Wind to take the enemy base down entirely.

That was a matter for another day. Sky couldn’t eliminate an entire enemy base, but he could sneak into one.

But just in case, he packed two pistols and his semi-automatic gun. Just in case. And maybe a sniper rifle.

Wind did, under mild protest, get a camouflage jacket from Sky, both for the elder teenager’s sanity and because the desert was frigid at night.

The pair snuck by the guards rather easily—unnervingly easy, Sky would have to bring this up later—and began their long trek through the desert.

“How long does it usually take to get to the town?” Sky asked before adding out of curiosity, “And why do you sneak in there so much? You know they can kill you, right?”

“It’s like an hour walk from here with the route I take,” Wind answered. At Sky’s alarmed expression, he added, “It’s not a route that vehicles can drive. We’re gonna be climbing. A lot. Hope you can hold on to all your guns.”

“Speaking of which,” Sky said, holding out a pistol and a machete. “Do not use these unless you absolutely have to. Got it?”

Wind reached out hesitantly. Sky quickly asked, “You do know how to shoot, right?”

Wind gave him bewildered, somewhat exasperated look. “Why the hell would I know how to shoot?”

Great. Maybe just the machete, then. “I don’t know, you’ve been wandering a war zone for so long now I figured you had something up your sleeve to defend yourself.”

“I do!” Wind replied excitedly, pulling out a boomerang. “This baby’s helped me out in tough times!”

“Huh.” Sky gazed at the boomerang curiously. “That’s different.”

“It works!”

Sky shrugged. Whatever worked, he supposed.

The adolescent pair continued into the desert night, a chilly wind trying to tear through them. Wind’s path quickly went off the main road, and Sky did indeed find himself climbing nearly sheer cliffs, gripping whatever flora had managed to creep along its walls. He started sweating quickly, feeling his stamin fall, but they managed to reach the top before his grip gave out. Their journey was mostly spent in silence aside from Wind giving pointers on footing, giving Sky plenty of time to formulate different plans.

This medicine had to be in a clinic or hospital. Which meant they’d have to get to that point. Then they’d have to figure out how to sneak into such a facility. It was a good thing he had thought to swipe a few items that Wars had left lying around.

Wind held up his hand suddenly, making Sky freeze. Then the kid cackled, pulling out his phone. “Gotta do the obligatory pre-break-in selfie.”

“Wind!” Sky hissed. “I could get court martialed for this, no pictures!”

“Oh come on!” Wind argued. “I’m not dumb, I don’t share this stuff! These pictures are to show my grandma and sister when I find them, that’s all.”

Sky sighed heavily. To hell with it. Pulling down the black mask that was covering his face he gave a strained smile as Wind winked at the camera with a peace sign.

The edge of the town was surrounded by stone walls. The only entrance in and out was flanked with multiple armed guards. Sky looked at Wind hesitantly, and the kid had the audacity to smirk. Sky was almost proud of him.

Wind moved towards the alpha side of the town wall, pointing to a spot that seemed darker than the rest of the surrounding area. “A lot of places here have old leftovers from way back when. This town’s got old sewage system that they don’t really use, it’s kind of more just runoff for… I don’t know, I guess they get rain sometimes. Either way, we can get in that way because they don’t really use it anymore.”

“And nobody’s guarding it?” Sky asked curiously.

“There’s, like, one guy. And he’s so freaking bored. He plays games on his phone.”

Sky snorted out a laugh and then followed his friend. The pathway was a little muddy, implying that something usually ran through here. It didn’t have a terrible odor to it, though it wasn’t great. Sky clutched his gun tightly as Wind peered around a corner and motioned for him to follow. The mud squelched too loudly for his liking, and with as on edge as he was feeling…

These people wouldn’t hesitate to hurt them. He’d seen what they were capable of. They’d shot down a medical helicopter for heaven’s sake. Still, if Wind had managed to sneak in and out…

Wind pointed silently, and Sky saw the guard in question. He squinted, staring at the man’s phone. Was that Angry Birds?

Slowly, Sky put his gun away, letting it rest on his back, and the pair scooted forward. The man sat close to the entrance, but not directly beside it. If he stayed engrossed in his game, they might actually have a chance. Wind snuck out first, quick and silent. Sky followed suit, feeling his stomach clench so tightly he thought he could throw up, but neither caught the guard’s attention.

Great. Great. They were in the city. Sky let out a subtle laugh, shaking the jitters off as they slipped into an alley. Now all they had to do was find a clinic or hospital or—

Oh, that giant building with the medical symbol ought to do nicely.

“What are you usually doing when you sneak in here?” Sky asked, suddenly curious.

Wind shrugged. “Looking for my sister and grandma. But they don’t really have refugee locations or prisoners here or anything.”

Sky felt his heart hurt. This kid was so determined to find his family. It was no wonder he was desperate not to lose anyone else.

“They’ve got curfews and stuff here,” Wind noted. “Since they turned the whole place into a base and all.”

There went Sky’s next thought to just blend in with the civilians. He supposed they would have to sneak around everywhere, then.

Maneuvering to get to the hospital wasn’t too terrible – the majority of the guards were posted along the walls rather than through the streets. The hospital was a fairly small one, but still more of an official medical institution than the field hospital Sky flew people to. He grabbed Wind by the shoulder and motioned to a bag he’d brought along.

“What’s that?” Wind asked hesitantly.

Reaching in, Sky pulled out a pair of scrubs and smiled mischievously.

Wind’s eyes brightened. “We’re posing as nurses!”

“I am,” Sky corrected. “You won’t fit in Wars’ clothes.”

“How did you get his scrubs?”

“Lost a bet. He wanted me to do his laundry as punishment.”

“…Did you clean them first?”

Sky tilted his head with a sheepish smile. “Well… point is, I have scrubs.”

Wind raised a cautious eyebrow. “So then what about me…?”

Sky’s smile grew more devious.

Ten minutes later, a security guard was knocked unconscious and dragged away, tied and gagged (with a bonus unconscious selfie with Wind winking and Sky looking mildly exasperated), and a wheelchair was acquired as a nurse wheeled his pediatric patient into the hospital.

“Okay, so we need to find the pharmacy,” Wind whispered. “That’s where the medicine would be, right?”

“We need to know what the medicine is first,” Sky replied quietly. “The only way to do that is for you to have that virus.”

Wind gave a quick huh? And then gasped with an oh! And proceeded to start fake coughing so hard the veins in his neck bulged.

“Easy, sailor,” Sky said worriedly, but Wind waved him off. When they stopped at the emergency department doors, Sky got himself together and waved sheepishly at the triage tech. “Forgot my badge, sorry. Mind letting me in?”

The triage tech rolled her eyes good naturedly and walked over. “You’re on the struggle bus tonight, buddy.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sky replied with a chuckle as he wheeled Wind in.

“So uh, what’s this virus called anyway?” Wind whispered as Sky found an empty room to put him in.

“I know the colloquial term is Sand Fever,” Sky said, pausing. “But I don’t know its actual name. I’m hoping that’s enough, though.”

If there was one thing Sky knew he could rely on, it was the chaos in the emergency department. He went to registration and put on a show how there was no paperwork for this new patient and gave her false information for a face sheet. She noted that he hadn’t been triaged, according to the paperwork, and Sky said he had, actually, he was in bad enough shape that they were going to get the info once they brought him back, which wasn’t unheard of for critical patients.

So one false paperwork bracelet later, Sky and Wind found themselves awaiting a physician’s examination for the presumed serious case of Sand Fever. Wind really played it up as much as he could, and it certainly worked well enough that the physician was willing to do a test for the virus. As soon as she left, Sky asked Wind, “How did you fake wheezing? Like this whole thing definitely has my heart rate and blood pressure up, but I can’t fake wheezing.”

Wind huffed, almost proudly, but then he wilted a little uncertainly. “I… don’t know. I tried hard, though.”

Sky’s confidence in the situation faltered a moment, quivering like a freshly hatched chick. Wait…

Dread filled him, and he slowly walked out of the room. He wandered the emergency department to get a lay of the land and distract himself, keeping close enough that he could rush to Wind’s room if anyone suspected anything. He felt incredibly exposed all of a sudden.

After maybe his third lap around the unit, the physician from earlier stopped him. “I put in orders for the Velkisen. Give him an initial dose and then I’ll write a script for pharmacy to fill.”

Sky blinked. What? “Uh, yeah. Okay.”

He repeated the name over and over. Velkisen. Velkisen.

Wait. Was that… was that the antiviral medication? Was… did that mean…?

“Shit,” Sky swore, going back to Wind’s room.

Wind perked up immediately, having been anxiously fiddling with the blanket provided to him. He also immediately could read Sky’s expression and knew something was wrong. “What is it?”

“You’ve got Sand Fever,” Sky said.

Wind blinked. Then he said, “Wow. Okay. That makes sense for the wheezing and achiness.”

“You’re achy and didn’t say anything?!”

Wind stood, crossing his arms defensively. “What differnce does it make? It doesn’t affect everyone the same, clearly I’m not as bad off! So what if I got it from Time! He needs the medicine.”

Sky groaned. “Well, we’re in luck because—”

A script! They were going to get a script!! All Sky had to do was fudge the amount of pills they would need, he could double or trip it, and they could get out of here with everything they needed from the hospital pharmacy!

…Assuming the pharmacist didn’t question it.

And he needed to get the initial dose apparently.

Sky advised Wind to wait and turned quickly, asking another nurse to let him into the medication room because of his supposedly forgotten badge. That wouldn’t get him into the actual dispenser, though, and he knew that. He had to figure out something.

Wait. He knew a trick he’d seen Warriors done a few times to override for medication. All it took was swiping some aspirin out of someone’s bag. Then he poked another nurse. “Hey, I need to return this medication, but it’s not popping up for me. Do you mind checking for me?”

The nurse shrugged and popped in easily enough, and Sky once again felt guilty at how he was abusing the camaraderie that emergency personnel showed each other.

The nurse logged into the dispenser and asked, “What’s the med called?”

“Vil—Vilkon—Vel—”

“Velkisen?”

“Yes! That’s the one.”

The nurse tossed him a look with a smirk. “Long night?”

Sky laughed nervously. “Yeah. I keep tripping over my words.”

“What’s the patient’s name?”

“Last name is Tingle.”

“Looks like it hasn’t even been dispensed.”

Sky made a humming sound and gently pushed by the nurse to look at the screen. “Weird. Well, I guess I’ll just pull it again, then.”

He tapped the medicine name with his finger, and a drawer popped open. When a compartment opened inside, awaiting his removal of the medication inside, he hesitated.

This was an intravenous medicine. He could immediately tell from the vial. There was no way he was administering this to Wind, even if the boy needed it. He grabbed it nonetheless – hopefully it could help Time. The script ought to provide more anyway. With a nod to the other nurse, he quickly made his way back to Wind, who was just finishing a conversation with the doctor.

“How old did you tell them I was, anyway? She hasn’t once asked about a parent,” Wind noted as Sky hastily slid the door closed.

“Eighteen,” Sky answered easily before pulling out the medicine. “Did you get the script?”

Wind waved the paper triumphantly. “I sure did! Tripled the dose, too. Now we just wait until I get discharged?”

“No,” Sky immediately said. “Too much paperwork, too many questions, too easy for people to figure out something’s off. Let’s head for the pharmacy now.”

“That means we have to sneak by the nurses too.”

“Yeah.”

“Sweet! Best night ever! We’re like spies!”

Sky sighed heavily, feeling exhausted. They were going to be dead spies if they weren’t careful. “Let’s go.”

Wind snapped one more selfie, showing his hospital wristband, and then nearly skipped over in delight. The pair tried to look as innocuous as possible as they casually slipped out of the room and into a hallway before following a transporter through locked doors and peeling off to head towards the signs indicating pharmacy.

It was honestly unnerving how easy it was, even if Sky felt like he was going to have a heart attack at any moment. He was going to ask Wind how the kid was so excited, but the more he watched him, the more he saw the nervous ticks, the way the younger one’s hands were shaking, the way his eyes were constantly on alert. Wind was just as scared as he was, but he expressed it through excited jitters.

The pharmacy tech filled the prescription after an agonizing few minutes, and before they knew it, they were slinking through the basement of the hospital with pockets full of pills.

“I hope this is enough,” Sky muttered as they found their tied up security guard. The man was wiggling now, trying to yell over the gag Sky had secured over his mouth. Sky grabbed his bag of supplies, changing out of his scrubs and back into his uniform as Wind threw the spare camouflage jacket back on and ripped off his hospital bracelet, pocketing it. Then Sky grabbed the butt of the gunstock and slammed it into the man’s temple, knocking him out once more. He then untied the guard so he could awaken and get actual help when they’d left.

But he should have known. This mission had been all too easy. Something had to go wrong.

It was blissfully late in the game. They had gotten back to the Angry Birds guard, who had now taken position directly in front of the entrance to their escape route. The pair came up with a plan quickly, and Sky waltzed up to the guard.

“Nice score,” he commented with a smile, and the guard jumped, registered the sight in front of him, and promptly got clocked on the head by a boomerang that he’d missed due to Sky’s distraction. A solid punch to the face did the rest of the work.

Unfortunately, it was time for the soldier to check in based on the radio traffic. Sky grabbed his gun, hissing for Wind to run ahead, and the pair tore into the tunnel. By the time they’d reached the other side, alarms were blaring.

“Head for the cliffs!” Sky yelled. If they could clear them they’d at lease be out of sight.

Instead, a spotlight shone right on them. Wind yelled, running faster. Sky whirled, firing his rifle at the light source, blinking rapidly to see his target. A few blind shots in the general direction eliminated the spotlight, but it also gave away their position just as well.

“Climb! Now!!” he ordered, slipping behind a boulder to give cover fire.

Wind scrambled up the rocks, flinching as gunfire peppered the area around him, though it primarily honed in on Sky’s general location. Sky fired off rapidly, praying he hit at least a few targets or warded them away long enough.

“I’m over!” Wind called. “Come on!”

“I’ll follow you, just go!!”

“Sky—”

“GO!”

Any argument Wind might have had was covered by the wound of bullets slamming into stone, sending dust and tiny, sharp rocks flying. Sky prayed the kid listened. You have the medicine, Wind. Save Time and yourself.

The distinct sound of a gave opening caught his attention, as well as motors. Sky turned his head and saw two motorcyclists tearing out of the main entrance to the town. They wouldn’t be able to get to Wind in the higher terrain, but they could chase him down until he reached the end of the cliffs. Taking a steadying breath, he peered out from his shelter and fired, managing to pick one rider off, leaving their bike spinning out of control.

Their bike.

Sky held his breath and ran. Bullets sprayed the ground around him, creating a trail as the gunner tried to keep up with his steps. Sky nearly slammed into the bike, throwing a leg over and gunning it with all his might.

Drawing close to the cliffs, he screamed out Wind’s name. After the third attempt, he saw the blonde head poking over some stone, the only thing visible about him. Wind immediately perked up, but then he pointed and shouted in warning. Sky turned and saw the other cyclist approaching, gun in hand.

Pulling out one of the pistols he had tucked into his side, Sky fired once, twice, thrice, and the soldier fell. He moved towards the cliff again. “JUMP!”

Wind ran alongside him and leapt without hesitation, arms and legs splayed out wide. Sky reached out for him, managing to catch the falling teenager and helping him climb onto the bike between the pilot and the handles.

“Hold on tight!” He instructed as they tore into the night. Wind kept a continuous lookout, and Sky’s head turned so much it might as well have been on a swivel, but they had gotten enough of a lead to outmaneuver anyone on foot, and Wind started pointing out trails off the main road before any other vehicles could exit the base.

Sky revved the engine again, watching as they accelerated to speeds in the triple digits, and Wind laughed almost as loudly as his namesake that was whipping through their hair. The farther they got from the town, the more infectious the laughter became, and eventually Sky himself was whooping and screaming in delight.

We made it.

XXX

The room felt so quiet. So empty. So cold.

Warriors slumped in his seat, alone with his thoughts. Time had long since fallen asleep, breathing disturbingly shallow. It was high time he take him to the hospital. It was high time he get transported somewhere that could better handle this, assuming it wasn’t too late already.

It was silly, really, to assume such a thing. Time had only been sick a couple days. It had just slammed him all at once. He hadn’t become altered to such a degree until tonight. Some part of Warriors’ brain insisted on taking care of him here, in the barracks, as if telling himself the situation as fine would actually make it so.

But he’d waited long enough. He wasn’t going to risk Time’s life over his desperate attempt to placate his mind. Time would go to the hospital in the capital and be treated and he would be fine. Never mind how quickly he was deteriorating. He would be fine.

He fell apart in forty-eight hours. Will he last the flight? Will they even think it’s worth flying him? Will they risk a pilot, a flight crew, a helicopter to transport someone who might already be too far gone?

Is this my fault for not taking him to the hospital sooner?

Warriors was usually better than this. He could figure out when a situation was going south, he could distance his emotions from the situation. This should be no different.

Except it was different. Because he’d already lost others, and just the mere thought of Time leaving sent him spiraling.

Impa. Lana. Oh fuck, Lana.

Warriors blinked tears away, tried to regulate his breathing. It was time to get moving. He tried not to look at Time, tried to think he was just taking a patient, grabbed his radio to call for an ambulance, when the door to the room slammed open with such intensity it nearly took it off its hinges.

Shooting to his feet, Warriors stumbled and knocked over the chair he’d been sitting on, taking in the sight before him. Sky and Wind were in front of him, breathless, excited, covered in sand and sweat and—was that a smear of blood?! They were wearing camouflage, and Sky was sporting multiple weapons in different holsters.

Warrior felt his body grow cold. “What. Did. You. Do.”

The pair immediately dug into their pockets, hands emerging bearing pill bottles and a vial. Their eyes shone with hope, twinkling brightly like stars in their filthy faces. “We got medicine.”

The nurse’s brain immediately put the pieces together, and his body found itself in a strange, bewildering, clashing state of relief and horror. “You stupid bastards.”

Their laughter at his words was not appreciated.

“You could’ve gotten yourselves killed!”

“Medicine!” Sky barked as if issuing an order, interrupting Warriors tirade.

The nurse snatched the medication, still glaring at the pair. “We’re not done here, you hear me?”

He tore into his drawer to grab a syringe, a flush, and alcohol swabs. The medication, according to a quick internet search, was given IM, which simplified things. He was still taking Time to the hospital, though. But injection first. Dosage check first. Reconfirm the route first.

Time didn’t flinch as Warriors gave the shot. Sky was already on the radio calling an ambulance. Wind was smiling in the corner, looking like a triumphant little imp.

They were imps. Warriors was going to have a freaking heart attack. The lecture he had in store for them would certainly be enough to make them think twice before doing anything like this ever again.

Good Lord. If Time’s illness doesn’t kill me, these two surely will.

XXX

Waking up really shouldn’t have been this hard.

For whatever reason, Time was distinctly uncomfortable. The bed was too hard, blankets too warm, skin too itchy, joints too sore. As he fluttered his eyes open, he swallowed and coughed at the dry sensation at the back of his throat.

What had…? Where was…?

Wait.

Sitting up, Time felt the room spin a hair, paused, and then resumed what he was doing.

“Easy, old man.”

Warriors. That was Warriors.

Glancing to his left, Time saw the army nurse watching him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. Warriors gave a small, relieved smile, and it temporarily hid the dark circles under his eyes.

“You’re okay!” Came from his other side, and immediately Time felt Sky’s hand on his other shoulder as the teenager helped guide him back to his pillow.

“I’m… okay,” Time affirmed, actually feeling like it could potentially be true. He felt… not great, but also not the way he had before. The growing dread, the bone-weary exhaustion, the haziness… they were all gone.

He marveled at it a moment. Couldn’t quite believe it himself. He’d been so sure that…

Well. He supposed even surgeons could be wrong.

“Time!”

Wind practically leapt onto the bed, held in check by the other two, but not even Warriors and Sky could stop him when Time held out his arms invitingly. Wind tore into his embrace, practically flattening him into the bed as Time chuckled, relief flooding his body.

“It’s good to see you boys,” he whispered, tears leaking out of his eyes and disappearing into Wind’s hair.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Number of stories I would like to write: Many.

Number of stories I find myself able to write: Zero.