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bagadew · 3 years ago

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The Great Ace Attorney Playthrough: The Adventure of the Unbreakable Speckled Band (Part 1)

Last Time: With a little help from Susato, the lady in pink, we discovered that Miss Brett poisoned Dr Wilson with Curare, a fast acting poison that’s only effective when introduced into the blood stream. In a last ditch attempt to avoid justice, Miss Brett destroyed the evidence right in front of the court, but fortunately my man Hosonaga was on hand with new evidence he’d taken from the crime scene, meaning that all we had to do was catch the thief of a rare golden coin, and tie Miss Brett up with her own words! At last I (Ryunosuke) was acquitted!

...only to find out in the lobby that Miss Brett has managed to privilege her way out of any consequences and was gone like smoke in the wind. (Also Kazuma used his sword in a way I found very hot, and I think I’ve accidentally doomed him to death or moral corruption.)

I’m 90% sure The Speckled Band is a Sherlock Holmes case, and I’m 49% sure it’s one of the ones I’ve read. I’m guessing this is where we’ll meet The Great Himbo Detective Herlock Sholmes then!

Well I guess that answers that then.

(And yes, I have read this one)

HERLOCK!

And he’s voiced by Professor Layton maybe???

Ooh, this seems like a Study in Scarlet, are we doing a Study in Scarlet guys?

Herlock has a magic gun!?!

Also I’m not digging this Japanese scripture and talk of it being penned by ‘the victim himself’. Kazuma what did I tell you about leaving my sight?

Wait... I could have sworn I just saw Hosonaga dressed as a sailor...

Oh balls, am I about to be accused of murder again?

Honestly I can’t take you anywhere Ryunosuke

Well Ryunosuke, you remember how you went to a lovely restaurant and got arrested for a murder you didn’t commit?

Well, it’s just like that but substitute restaurant for ship.

Also I’m not liking how little I’ve seen of Kazuma...

Ryunosuke we really need to have a talk about you just saying what people want to hear.

ITS FUCKING KAZUMA ISN’T IT?!

Nononononononono

I knew this was coming, you knew this was coming, Ace Attorney law dictated it was coming as soon as it set Kazuma up as both my mentor and best friend.

But even so, I thought they were just empty threats! I didn’t think they’d actually follow through! Or that we might at least enjoy Herlock Sholmes ad his magic gun together first.

I realise I’m stalling here, but maybe if I just don’t click I’ll not have to see his body.

Sailor Man, I understand that you’re very upset, we all are, but I need you to understand that I’m grieving here.

The man I love took one look at the morally compromised shits I’m normally into and decided he’d rather die than join them! And yes I know I’m still stalling and not taking this as seriously as I should because I still don’t believe it!

See, me and Ryunosuke are on the same page!

I didn’t Susato, but the problem is that you and I have only just met and I’m not very convincing!

Kazuma you legend! I refuse to believe you are dead until I see your corpse.

Now Ryunosuke’s all: I can’t believe they tossed your case around that much. I thought I was going to die.

And Kazuma’s telling me he’s just amazed I fitted inside his trunk in the first place.

Kazuma you can’t be gone! Who else will condescendingly tell me to go to France and ask rather than translate a French label for me?

Now Kazuma’s telling me (Ryunosuke) that I’m going to have to live in his cabin for the next 50 days.

Also we’ve got to keep this from Susato because we’re breaking the law and Kazuma doesn’t want us to take her down with us.

Lol, every day I get shoved into the wardrobe by an uncaring Kazuma!

Oh, that’s what the message said!

God knows what the steward thought Kazuma was keeping in his wardrobe though

See Ryunosuke, this is why we think before we speak.

I don’t envy the real killer when Susato gets hold of them.

From what I can find out it’s a locked room mystery, and the cause of death is still undetermined, so I’m guessing something like poison then rather than an obvious thing, like being stabbed with his big sword.

On one hand, I really hope it wasn’t something like Curare, because I don’t want Kazuma to have gone out like that, but on the other hand poison would explain why the killer didn’t need to be in the room when he died and why Kazuma didn’t strike them down with said big sword.

Ok, so Kazuma, legend that he was, got up every day at the crack of dawn to do sword training. And Susato, who I’m begging to suspect is incredibly hardcore, go up before him so she could go and wait for him outside.

Now that’s interesting.

The two of them seem like they were pretty close, so there’s a good chance it’s just that she’s so familiar with Kazuma’s habits that she can tell the second something’s off, or it could be that there’s some other reason we need to work out.

If that’s correct that means Kazuma was killed in the small hours of the morning.

You know up ‘til now I’ve been assuming Ryunosuke was knocked out or something, and that’s why he was unconscious in the wardrobe, but now I’m starting to think he might have just been sleeping in there.

:((

Wait why’d Kazuma write in Russian?

Like I’d buy that he might know it, but I don’t buy that’s it’s what he’d write in in his finger moments.

Well that proves my innocence then, all we need to do is get some witnesses to verify the ‘go to France and ask’ moment from the last case

Oh ok, I didn’t manage to screenshot it, but it seems that I (Ryunosuke) didn’t put myself in the wardrobe. That’s very odd.

I can see a vent up there, so maybe someone gassed us and then got in while we were asleep and set up the crime scene.

Kazuma said I should come, next question

Ryunosuke, with some of the words that come out of your mouth I don’t think you should be throwing stones.

Love?

Apparently not.

This is going to be something ominous isn’t it...

I’m starting to feel like Kazuma knew he’d never see England.

Kazuma how many toes did you tread on?

Oh fucking hell!

You can’t die and be heading down a dark moral path, that’s not fair!

Yeah, I want to know that too.

So my poison/drugging theory seems to be holding up. Apparently Kazuma bought me something to eat, I climbed into the hiding wardrobe, and then it’s lights out from there.

Given that I didn’t wake up when Kazuma was killed I’m going to say that also back that theory up. Even if it was silent I feel like Ryunosuke would have woken up if someone was going round the cabin knocking ink bottles over and killing Kazuma.

No, don’t blame yourself Ryunosuke!

It’s my fault really, if I was going to find Kazuma hot I should have made sure I could manifest inside my switch and protect him!

Ah, of course! Isn’t her dad a professor of pathology? And she seems like the sort of person who picks things up pretty quickly!

In other words, if this is a poisoning, she could be the perfect person to be partnered up with.

:(((

Susato is fully prepared to kick our ass if we try and leave, and as the woman who got up before Kazuma, I think we should listen to her.

:(((((

I say we team up as an investigative duo and catch this bastard!

Yeah!

SHE FUCKED US UP!!!

Susato didn’t come here to play! Especially when we might have killed Kazuma!

(Editors note: this isn’t a bad screenshot, Susato genuinely made Ryunosuke’s vision go blurry)

I know we need to investigate, but my god this woman’s got a fist to match her convictions.

You know when I first met Susato I was a bit afraid she was going to be the inverse of Maya to the point of being meek and shy.

Now I see what a fool I was.

Susato might be prepared to politely follow the rules, but woe betide you if you break them.

She’s even named it!

Again I know this is bad for us but GO SUSATO!

(God damn it you can’t all be my favourite characters)

Her own special martial arts form Ryunosuke!

And just like that she regathers her composure and carries on as if nothing had happened!

I like how she’s still just standing over me.

Ok Ryunosuke let’s go!

(Seriously though we don’t want her as an enemy)

Ah of course, Kazuma stuck the seal on the wardrobe, and the fact Herlock Sholmes (the himbo detective) had to pull it off means I didn’t leave!

No one respects poor Ryunosuke...

So it seems that Susato doesn’t believe we’re innocent just yet, but as we’ve presented the possibility of doubt before her she will let us investigate this room.

Given the buck wild nature of the last trial she was involved in, I honestly can’t blame her for not ruling this possibility out. After all if this was something a witness in a trial had said I’d be thinking the same thing.

Susato’s going to be watching us to make sure we don’t disturb the crime scene, which again is fair.

I’ve got to say, I’m really digging Susato’s cautiously suspicious and sensible nature. It feels like a good counterbalance to Ryunosuke’s beautiful but naïve outlook on life.

I bet if Susato had stowed away onboard a ship you wouldn’t catch her immediately confessing as soon as a sailor started to press her.

Who am I kidding, Susato would never have got into this situation in the first place.

*sob*

Ok so far we’ve got:

A) Half a pink kimono fastener on the floor next to a brick red mark

B) One disturbed table, with the remains of our roast chicken dinner on the floor

C) The terrible knowledge that Kazuma spent his last night on earth hungry because he didn’t like chicken

D) Kazuma’s precious katana, that he loved dearly and that he’d apparently managed to persuade the government to let him bring to the UK.

Oh yeah, drive the knife in why don’t you game!

Why do I feel like Ryunosuke’s about to get roasted?

There we go.

(It’s what Kazuma would have wanted)

DON’T JUST GO WITH IT RYUNOSUKE!

Back to investigating, we’ve got a ransacked shelf, and Kazuma’s London diary.

Just, you know, to rip my heart out...

It looks like the final entry’s incomplete, which means Kazuma was probably writing it when the incident happened. Unfortunately Susato is violently insistent that we respect the Kazuma’s private thoughts after his death, so we can’t read it.

We’ve got the inky Russian(?) on the floor which none of us can either recognize, nor read (including me)

(Sorry to any Russians reading this by the way, I can only assume you’re screaming that this isn’t Russian, but I’m just going by what the Great Himbo Detective said in the cut scene.)

Ok, so the sailor who’s been guarding us got very flustered when we asked if everything was normal last night, meaning that either he’s been skiving off, or everything was in fact not normal last night.

Oh sweet, it seems that Ryunosuke and Susato both read detective novels, and while we’ve shot down the possibility of using the needle and thread trick to unbolt the door from the outside (side note: I must remember to try that later), I feel like both they, and the player who immediately started trying to rattle off facts about Curare, have had a bonding moment.

Ok, I think that’s this half of the room done, let’s go and check out that vent I saw earlier.

So the vent connects to the room next door. That means if the grate could be moved we have a way in and out of our crime scene!

HERLOCK SHOLMES!!!

I mean, he’s quite hard to miss Ryunosuke

(I think Ryunosuke might have an Apollo complex short)

Understatement of the century

Her and me both Ryunosuke, it’s The Great Himbo Detective!!!

WE’RE TALKING TO HIM!

AND HE’S BLANKING US!!!

Herlock Sholmes I understand that you’re in a critical point of your investigation, but you need to understand that Ryunosuke, Susato and I are sad and need to see your magic gun.

YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSS!!!

IT’S LIKE HE HEARD ME!!!

OH GREAT HIMBO DETECTIVE CHEER ME WITH YOUR WITH YOUR ECCENTRIC ACTS THAT ARE RELATABLE TO MY AUTISTIC ASS!!!

OMFG HE’S SO INCREDIBLY WRONG!!!

I hope this is the way all of his deductions go from now on.

Also I’m sorry Russia and the Russian language, I should not have believed what the man, who on reflection was sold to me as the great himbo detective, said.

Susato’s buying it!

Susato look into my eyes and tell me Ryunosuke could ever make it as a soldier.

No, please do!

And the bullet flies a mile wide!

I’m still upset about Kazuma, but I’m somehow also having the time of my life

SUSATO YOU KNOW I’M FROM JAPAN!!!

SHE TOOK ME OUT!!!

AND MY GOD AM I HERE FOR IT!!!

Ryunosuke’s finally snapped!

What I find amazing is that the Sherlock Holmes Herlock Sholmes stories clearly exist, basically unchanged in this world. So either Dr Watson Wilson was either lying through his teeth to spare his friend’s feelings, or he is the stopped clock is right twice a day person who Herlock actually hit the nail on the head for, and therefore he believed everything that was said.

‘On rout to foreign climates’ that’s how ships work Herlock!

Exactly!

I’ll say one thing for Herlock though, you can’t beat him down!

How am I both Ryunosuke and Susato in this scene?

Yeah Naruhodo-san! I thought you read detective stories!

Quick Susato! Get him to sign a copy!

Um... has no one told him yet...

I’m also curious about the fact that he still believes Dr Wilson’s in London. Either there are two Dr Wilson’s, or something weird is going on here.

Look at his hat Ryunosuke, it contains all the information you need

He got his own name wrong!

Hosonaga, I don’t know if you can hear from wherever you are on this ship dressed as a sailor, but there is a fight and you are rapidly losing!

(Also to be fair to Herlock, as someone who’s been playing a lot of Hitman recently, looking inside the wardrobe already means he’s doing a lot better than literally every character in that game.)

Ok so it was Russian then and I no longer have to apologies!

Do you think Herlock has ever been to Russia?

Ok Mr ‘is this cow a cat?’

:(((((((

HERLOCK THAT LOOKS NOTHING LIKE ME!!!

Ok everyone, we’re also on the lookout for a missing Russian Ballerina along with Kazuma’s killer. I don’t know how, but I wouldn’t have been told about her if she wasn’t relevant

I can’t believe we’ve finally found the vindictive part of Ryunosuke’s beautiful personality!

We’re finally reading Kazuma’s diary!

Oh fuck, Kazuma was bitten by an adder

Wait, if that was the case why didn’t he dispatch it with his big sword? We’ve seen him do precision work before, so that can’t be it.

Either way, I think we really need to talk to the person in the room next to mine.

Also: Herlock Sholmes gets seasick!

Did she just break my cuffs?

My mistake she’s just showing some tough love to get me to buck up!

Let’s go team!

HOSONAGA!!!

“What are you doing here?” “I think that should be my line” This feels like that meme of the two Spidermen pointing at each other

I wouldn’t be so sure Susato. Hosonaga seems a lot like me, a bunch of disabilities held together by sheer force of will.

He still has a job!

(Or his superiors are just trying to send him as far away from Japan as they can)

HELL YEAH HOSONAGA, LETS PUNCH THE RULES UNTIL THEY SQUEAK!

(Also your superiors are definitely trying to ship you out)

Oh...

That would explain Kazuma’s whole vibe.

Although something about this feels wrong. No disrespect to Hosonaga, but as determined as he is he doesn’t exactly have the physical prowess you’d associate with stopping an assassination. I know I haven’t exactly seen him at work yet, but something about this feels like he was set up to fail.

Now the thing is, that while he can cut it as a waiter, Hosonaga isn’t exactly built to fit in among sailors. It’s not going to take a genius therefore, to work out who Kazuma’s guard is, especially if he’s been around Kazuma from dawn till dusk. That’s probably why his killer had to kill him in his cabin, and it’s also why they probably drugged his food (which means they didn’t know him enough to know he didn’t like chicken)

:(((((((((((((

On the plus side though, it looks as though Hosonaga believes in my innocence.

Come on Hosonaga, remember when you bought Miss Brett to us!

Hell yeah Hosonaga!

Hosonaga heard my call! He heard that he was losing his place as my second favourite character and came back swinging!!!

Determination Ryunosuke!

Also probably hacking up a lot of blood, that does wonders to unnerve people in my experience

Now, I should present Kazuma’s diary here... but...

Yes, everything is as it should be...

He’s digging it!

Oh no he took it as an insult!

Sorry Ryunosuke, that’s the crime scene thief’s now

Ok let’s do this properly then

Yeah boy!

LETS DO THIS TEAM!!!

Ryunosuke, do you remember nothing about this man?

Hosonaga didn’t come here to play!

Ok, we’re moving on out (except not right now because I’ve still got a couple of things to look at before we go)

I think Ryunosuke might be a bad influence on Susato...

Also I feel like I’ve pegged Susato wrong regarding the rules. Susato’s just very good at keeping up the appearance of following them.

Come to think of it, the fact she’s a judicial assistant, despite women apparently not being allowed in the Japanese court other than to testify should have clued me in.

Susato Mikotoba: Breaking the rules in front of you, but in a way you don’t notice

(Also the bell pull’s not working, but I think we all expected that)

Susato I’ve been living in a cupboard!

Don’t pity me!

Ok, so I’m not quite sure when Ryunosuke and I started thinking as one, but we’ve all agreed it’s happening now

Ryunosuke do not get caught in the mousetrap!

Susato can see right through me (Ryunosuke)

Umm...

This is the Phoenix Maya dynamic inverted, and I am living for it.

Susato: Now this is an emergency button, it’s very important you do NOT press it!

Ryunosuke: *lunges for the trigger*

It feels amazing being the wayward partner!

Our rout into cabin 2’s blocked by approximately 1 ton of sailor, so for now Susato and I will have to dick around avenge Kazuma out here in the corridor.

It seems that last night’s log is mostly blank, so I’m guessing I was right about the sailor on duty skiving off.

Hmm, so the person in the next cabin’s probably quite important then. Given what just happened with Miss Brett that’s not a good sign.

And it seems like I’m not allowed to visit whoever it is without an invitation... which might prove tricky given as how there in there and I’m out here

Ah good, a Western Gentleman, that’s just what we need!

Hmmmmm

These guys left their post for a while didn’t they?

Either that or there’s something (or someone) they’re keeping off the records.

This might be a bit of a wide shot, but that mousetrap makes me wonder if the crew has some sort of secret pet squirrelled away somewhere. It doesn’t entirely add up what with them putting traps down, but with everyone in Ace Attorney having something to hide it’s all I can think of now.

Bif Strogenov’s left to report to the captain, nows our window to violate some privacy!

HERLOCK SHOLMES!!!

Shot down!

Herlock that thing’s tiny, I don’t think anyone’s in there!

It moved!

Guess I’m eating my words!

Herlock???

Ok, we’re not allowed to look inside the case, or indeed anything, but fortunately we have HERLOCK SHOLMES THE GREAT HIMBO DETECTIVE!!!

Deduce away Herlock!

Herlock... are you about to tell this man that he’s also the Russian Assasin? Are you going to do this round the whole ship until you get it right?

Wait this is working!?!

Herlock Sholmes is Susato’s one blind spot and Ryunosuke’s one point of clarity

CHOOCHOO!!!

THIS IS AMAZING!

He’s not entirely right though...

(Editors note: I completely managed to miss capturing 90% of the ? icons)

I FUCKING KNEW IT!!!

HERLOCK LOOK AT THIS MAN’S NOSE, LOOK AT MY FACE! NOW LOOK AT THE MAN IN THE PORTRAIT!

However, the newspaper in his pocket and the little ! icon seems to suggest there’s some connection there.

(Editors note: I also managed to miss every ! icon)

And there is a crime being committed, but it’s not to do with the case.

Yeah, it probably just contains one of those pets we’re not supposed to have.

So... a baby?

So do a lot of people Susato

Ok, so The Great Himbo Detective is actually really good at making observations, it’s just how he applies them that’s shit.

I wonder if this is what Dr Wilson did for their partnership, but he just cut out the bits where he said things like: Herlock these people have completely different faces, maybe there’s a different reason they’ve got the paper?

Ryunosuke normally: The fact Hosonaga’s working in this restaurant clearly means he’s struggling financially!

Ryunosuke around Herlock: You can’t just say the first guess that pops into your head!

HERLOCK BUSTED US OUT!!!

(Ok he’s also the reason we were in handcuffs, but still)

Olay!

What! Noooooo!

‘Course Correction: Hold it Mr Sholmes!’ What a title!

Important news just in: Ryunosuke can’t grow a beard

A part of me says that he was about to use the sheers to cut up that paper, but there are obviously other copies around the ship, so unless he’s planning a sheers rampage that can’t be right.

Hello!

Wait a second... with that reaction to the paper... is there a Russian Ballerina in there?

WE DID THE HERLOCK SHOLMES COOL SPIN AND CLICK!!!

Also look at Ryunosuke’s little cocky smirk!

He’s really getting into this!

And I couldn’t be more proud!

We’re tag teaming it!

Herlock I swear to god if you tell me she’s that assassin

WHAT DID I JUST SAY!

(Editors note: Got that one!)

I sure am Susato!

Keep telling yourself that Ryunosuke, we can all see the truth

Ah, so the nose was fake too

That makes a lot more sense now!

Well she did disappear with a priceless tiara

He said, rubbing his hand in glee

This is definitely the start of a beautiful friendship!

Damn straight I do!

Bingo

For some reason I pictured it as being pink though, I don’t know why

Anyway so, while Nikolina does need money it seems that she didn’t steal the tiara. Apparently it was given to her as a present.

Also Nikolina is only 15, and has run away by herself for reasons currently unknown. I’m starting to get the feeling that the crew (or at least the two we’ve met) might have been looking out for her.

Oh yeah, the moving travel case!

Given the rules regarding pets, I wonder if that’s what’s in there? It would explain the attitude of the sailors we met.

Is it the Russian Revolutionary Herlock? You have to tell us if it is...

He’s learning!

Yep, she’s looking at the pet rule sign, now show me the pet!

Whoooooooo!

Yeah, I’m pretty sure the guys on the door were covering for her (and probably her pet too)

Hmm, so Nikolina’s running from someone, so she decided to disguise herself to be safe and has been a jumble of nerve ever since.

Can I see...

Bless you Nikolina, but you’re not the best at keeping secrets. I’m pretty sure the crew have collectively decided to just look the other way and let the traumatised 15 year old have her pet.

HE CUFFED ME AGIAN!!!

I wonder if Nikolina’s beloved pet’s a snake?

Can I just...

Fine...

No, everyone must see my badge!

HA!

Ok now let’s go back to actually playing the game!

So, because she’s a jumble of nerves, Nikolina hasn’t been noticing much about what’s been happening around her. However I think she’d have probably noticed signs of danger, like loud noises, so I’m a little curious as to why she didn’t pick up on the sound of the tableware being sent to the floor.

From what I can gather about her ‘never dancing again’ whatever happened probably has something to do with the ballet.

Either that or she’s worried about being linked with her old life if she goes back on the scene under another name.

That’s a good point actually, while people are funny and I can get her wanting a memento of her life, that’s an incredibly distinctive memento to have.

It must have some sort of emotional significance, I think she said it was given to her by an Earl, so maybe her father?

Hmm, that’s a pretty distinctive thing to try and pawn Nikolina.

Yikes! So the Novavich Ballet’s got really unethical working conditions. (Which probably shouldn’t be too much of a shock given the time period.) Now I understand why Nikolina’s so keen to never put herself in that situation again.

Yeah, I thought that was the case.

Huh?

Oh yeah... that is odd

Ah, so that’s why everyone was so on edge!

Right...

(I feel like this would carry more weight if we hadn’t just been flashing our badge at anyone who looks our way)

Now onto the most important question:

HERLOCK NO!

Susato is me (but personally I’m hoping for a kitten)

Ok Genius, what sort of animal is it?

I’ll eat your funky hat if that’s true Herlock

Important information 2: Never trust Herlock with a pet

Please let it be that we were Kazuma’s pet

Wait no, I’m an idiot. I’m obviously supposed to ask about the speckled band

Wow she changed quick!

She’s leaving to talk to the captain, is this our chance to meet her friend!?!

Booooo, we’ve been chucked out!!!

#tgaa spoilers #tgaa #the great ace attorney #the adventure of the unbreakable speckled band #ryunosuke naruhodo #kazuma asougi #susato mikotoba #satoru hosonaga #nikolina pavlova #i will avenge your death kazuma #also i will see that animal #this is a long one by the way lads #i might break the investigation parts into daily sections of progress #because these screenshots took forever to transfer from my phone

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amjustagirl · 4 years ago

Text

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven.

Wordcount: 2.1k

Masterlist link here

AO3 link here

Summary:

Akaashi Keiji catches glimpses of another life in his dreams. He dreams of fields of endless gold, of constellation of stars that light up the night sky. He hears the echo of birdsong in her laughter, her songs to the gods in the wind.

Author’s note: This fic is a little different from my usual work, so I’m a little nervous about publishing it. If you do like it, would love if you leave a comment / reblog / anything!

Pro tip: Italics denote scenes in Akaashi’s dreams / past.

If you’d like to be included in the taglist, do drop me a msg/ask!

Time passes.

Akaashi graduates from university with top honours and gets recruited immediately by a publishing company. He’s mildly disappointed when he’s dispatched to the manga department instead of the literature department as he originally hoped, but it’s not all that bad, he gets to work with Udai-sensei on his new volleyball manga.

He’s content, all things considered.

His mother is constantly on his case to find a girlfriend - because she insists she’s growing old and wants grandchildren soon. To placate her, he goes on arranged dates with daughters of his father’s business associates, with nieces of his mother’s friends. While they’re pleasant enough, they all seem to come from the same mold - well bred middle class university graduates more interested in complaining about their bosses and talking about the branded bags they’re going to get next.

Once he tried asking one of them about the type of flowers she likes best. His date blinked in confusion at first, but immediately brightened up and she said ‘roses, I guess? They look so good on instagram!’

He did not ask for a second date.

Honestly, he’s not exactly looking to date anyone at the moment. He’s young, barely twenty three. Work is time consuming enough, with his days filled with constantly looming deadlines and chasing temperamental mangakas like Udai-sensei. His mother will just have to accept that grandchildren are very much not in the near future.

But he does feel somewhat guilty - ‘even Yuji-kun is seeing this lovely girl, auntie tells me,’ his mother nagged last Sunday, so he picks up a habit of buying flowers to soothe her every time he heads to his parent’s home for a meal.

‘Pink carnations for your mother again?’ the florist asks brightly.

Akaashi nods, insisting on paying for the baby’s breath she adds to the bouquet. The florist lets him when he assures her he’s no longer a starving university student, and pulls her gloves off to rifle in her drawer for change.

‘Here you go!’, she chirps, holding out a tray with his change. His gaze is drawn to the pink burn scars streaked across her hands, and flushes when she meets his curious eyes with a knowing look.

‘Sorry, I - uh didn’t mean to stare’, he begins to splutter, but she waves it off.

‘It’s fine. I got them a long time ago’, she replies, a wistful smile twisting her lips, tugging her sleeves down to her wrist.

He bows and takes his leave. He doesn’t spare a second thought on the encounter when he reaches his parent’s house, his mother exclaiming over the little bouquet.

The table shakes when his colleague slumps into his seat, sighing deeply.

‘Did your boss get on your case for typos again?’ Akaashi asks, his spoon pausing on the way to his mouth.

‘Worse’, his colleague groans. ‘He’s sending me to Hokkaido for next month’s feature on crimes that shocked the nation, and I have to travel all the way up the mountains to some dinky little town without a train station.

‘Hm’. Akaashi raises an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. ‘What’s the feature about?’

‘See for yourself’. His colleague dramatically slides his folder of articles across the table, bumping it into Akaashi’s plate.

He thumbs through the folder. Nakamura Yakeru, the mayor of a small mountain town in Hokkaido, found guilty on a multitude of charges - breaking and entering, causing arson by fire, assault and attempted murder of a schoolgirl, her identity redacted. It’s shocking in and of itself - but there’s something awfully familiar about the man’s face.

He smooths out the creases in the paper, bringing the newspaper clipping closer to his face, and oh -

He knows that face.

His mind echoes with the memories of flinching at the sight of Nakamura’s teeth, yellowed from nicotine and bared in a smirk, the acrid stench of cigarettes lingering on his shirt, cursing whenever that inconsiderate bastard left sparks smouldering in dry grass. But it doesn’t make sense - there’s no reason for him to have ever met the man. He’s never been farther north than Sapporo, a born and bred Tokyo city boy after all. And he doesn’t recall seeing the man’s face on the news either when the crime was committed.

So why would his dreams feature this man?

‘Akaashi?’ he hears his colleague call his name, but his voice can barely be heard over the pounding of his heart in his ears. ‘You’ve gone really white, is everything ok?’

‘I’m fine’, he replies, hastily shoving the article back in the folder. ‘Everything’s fine.’

His colleague doesn’t look like he believes him. Frankly, Akaashi doesn’t believe himself either.

Try as he might, he can’t get the eerie coincidence out of his mind. And after a few restless nights, he finds himself back in his childhood bedroom, holding the old omamori in his hands. It’s just an inanimate scrap of cotton fabric, but he’s tempted to borrow his mother’s sewing kit to pick its stitches apart, to discover the secrets woven into its threads.

It feels silly being so superstitious, but he can’t help feeling that he’s on the verge of discovering what his strange dreams have been trying to show him - so he tucks the omamori under his pillow, his thumbnail catching on a stray thread, before he surrenders himself to his dreams.

‘Akaashi Keiji’, a cool voice pronounces his name with faint amusement. ‘Back to change the terms of our bargain? ’

His eyes fly open.

This time he’s on familiar ground, kneeling on the twenty sixth step of the shrine he visits with his parents for Hatsumode, the other twenty five steps below him shrouded in mist. But the woman standing before him is not familiar to him - in fact, she’s clearly not even human, not with her red eyes and pale lips, not with the wisteria trailing from her hair and disappearing into her skin.

That should scare him, but it doesn’t because he can’t discern any malice in her eyes, and the scent of the wisteria is soothingly sweet.

So his curiosity wins out over his sense of caution, and he asks politely - ‘I’m sorry, who are you exactly? And, um. What bargain are you referring to? ’

Her eyes gleam. ‘I’m offended. Don’t you recognise the guardian of the shrine you’ve been praying at your whole life? And as for the bargain you’ve made with me - I thought you already figured it all out by yourself, little boy.’ Laughing airily, she crouches over him, a wooden plaque dangling from her finger. ‘Remember this?’

He reads the words etched on the plaque. ‘I wish I could have more time. I wish for yesterday to come again.’ Then he glances up at the shrine deity sharply. ‘I remember that from my dreams. Does this mean they’re real?’

‘What do you think?’ Her lips stretch into a grin.

‘Logic would suggest that they aren’t. It shouldn’t be possible to swap bodies, let alone with someone I’ve never met in my life. And yet…’

‘And yet?’ she prompts, tilting his head towards her with the nail of her finger.

‘It’s too much of a coincidence to ignore the fact that I know Nakamura Yakeru from my dreams, so that suggests at least some semblance of it is real.’ He looks at her pleadingly. ‘Are you here to help me?’

She laughs again, the sound ethereal like the flutter of butterfly wings. The sleeves of her purple kimono slide down her wrists, the scent of wisteria enveloping him growing sickly sweet. ‘Help you? Well, since you asked so nicely, little boy, I guess there’s no harm telling you your dreams are real. I granted your wish on a whim, and look how amusing you’ve been!’

Oh gods his dreams are real. They’re real. Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, they’re real.

Akaashi feels his stomach churn. He inhales a shaky breath.

That means she’s real, doesn't it?

He thinks about the salaciously titled newspaper articles, the violence implied in its words. He thinks about the innocence in her impulses, the whimsicalness of her thoughts. He feels ill at the thought of someone deliberately trying to extinguish her.

‘What happens in the end ?’ he asks, blood surging to his head, slamming his palms flat on the ground for support. ‘What happens to her?’

Sunlight pierces through the fog, and the wisteria spirit starts to fade before his very eyes.

‘Why don’t you see for yourself?’, her voice echoes. ‘You’ll find all the answers you’re looking for at the shrine in the forest. You know the way there - you’ve been there a thousand times, both in real life and in your dreams.’

He gasps as he jolts awake, hands clenching his sheets.

He’s in his bed in his apartment. Everything is exactly as it was before he went to sleep.

Well - everything except the scent of wisteria lingering in the air.

Udai-sensei’s eyes bug out from its sockets when Akaashi tells him he’s off to Hokkaido for an impromptu holiday.

‘You aren’t burnt out, are you? Is it me? Is it the deadlines? Don’t quit on me - there’s no way another editor can provide the same input on my new volleyball manga like you!’ he begs, sounding dangerously close to tears.

Akaashi sighs, muttering under his breath about ‘ highly strung mangakas’ but manages to reassure Udai that no, he’s not quitting, he’s just taking a four day break. He thought it’d be nice to visit the flower fields during summer in Hokkaido, and he has an old friend in those parts he might pay a visit to.

So he puts himself on a short flight to Sapporo, and a painfully long bus ride further north into the mountains, arriving at the rural village he’s traversed countless times in his dreams. He drags his luggage past the high school, the crunch of wheels on gravel slowly knocking loose memories of bones aching, flesh bruising, from tumbles down the stairs, from falls off drain pipes, from predestined losses against cement floors.

He exhales through his nose when he walks past the florist’s shop. It’s a hollow shell of bare concrete and cardboard shutters, a gap where the signboard should be on the shopfront, a stark contrast to the bustling bakery and combini it’s sandwiched between. Thank the gods, he mutters, the blaze of hurt and desperation in Hana-chan’s eyes haunting his mind.

The only inn in the town is serviceable enough, though he’s looked at in askance by the innkeeper when he admits he’s an editor for a publishing company. ‘Another gossip hound ’, the old lady mutters resentfully, and Akaashi has to do damage control lest she assign him the dampest room in the establishment and assure her that he’s no journalist, just a flower enthusiast interested in the lavender blooming in the fields. He charms her enough with his politeness that by the time he checks into his room, she offers him free use of a bicycle to explore the town, and he takes her up on her offer once he drops off his bags in his room.

The summer sun is starting its descent from the sky as he cycles past familiar dirt paths lined with trees, the anticipation in his blood thrumming as he passes sprawling farms he’s sure he’s eaten stolen eggs from, passes the gas station she bragged about stealing petrol from. The rush of blood to his head hits a roaring crescendo when he reaches the edge of the woods.

Leaning the bicycle against a fallen tree, he sets off to the very heart of the forest, his feet seeming to recognise a path his eyes cannot see. The deeper into the forest he ventures into, the thicker the branches overhead seem to grow, leaves interwoven into a net that blocks the sun.

The wind ripples over his skin. The trees seem to whisper out to him.

Okaeri, he hears. Welcome home, the Kodama spirits murmur over the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Sunlight from the setting sun spills into a clearing just ahead, and though he’s almost blinded by the sudden flash of light, he can make out the outline of a shrine, situated dead center of the clearing and breaks into a run. There it is , he thinks, dropping to his knees, hands trembling as he brushes fallen branches and leaves off the shrine, deaf to the growing whispers from the trees surrounding him.

‘Please grant me your secrets’, he breathes, eyes closed in prayer.

He can feel a pulse in the ground, a sudden shift in the air. Wisteria blooms from the soft earth in his heart.

Oh.

Oh gods.

He remembers.

Taglist:

@forgetou @animeflower26 @kageyamakock @underrated-fruit-tarts-official @bongofrito

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu angst #haikyuu romance #haikyuu fic rec #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #haikyuu writing #hq writing #akaashi keiji #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x you #akaashi keiji x y/n #akaashi x you #fukurodani #kimi no nawa #haikyuucreations

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harringtonstudios · 5 years ago

Text

dusky pink.

plot: you’re called in for an emergency photoshoot, not really knowing what to expect, things can surprise you. part 2!

A/N: holy moly this is the most i’ve written! glad i got back in a mood. this is for the anon that asked about a model!au earlier, i hope you like it.

taglist: @iamdorka @no-shxt-sherl @bakerkells @findingmyth @rosegoldrichie

When you had gotten an emergency casting call from Galore Magazine, you hadn’t expected all this. YBeing an established model, you were known for your unique photoshoots and uprising through runway walks. You had been in the industry for almost a full year now, feeling like a veteran when you were constantly being booked by different agencies.

Galore Magazine was one of your first employers. They had allowed you to explore your creative side while posing for the camera, launching what the industry called your “brand.” You had developed a strong, personal relationship with the executive assistant of the magazine, and she would always offer you jobs when you felt like you needed something to do in order to keep busy.

The phone call came in at 3am, disrupting a night out. You had immediately picked up, walking to the outside of a club after seeing her name flash on the screen. Within minutes, in a slightly tipsy haze, you had agreed to a two-day long shoot, confirming that you would be able to fly out in a few hours.

The alcohol had settled into your bloodstream when you rushed to your apartment, throwing clothes into a duffel bag. The flight you were supposed to be on was scheduled to leave soon, and you knew that check-ins were going to be a bitch, so you grabbed a bagel from the 24/7 corner deli before setting off to get to the airport.

It was only after you had settled into the airplane seat that you realized you weren’t exactly sure what you had said yes to. The alcohol from last night had drained out, leaving you with a pounding headache and you grimaced as the plane started lifting off. Pulling out your phone, you texted the editor of Galore, shamelessly asking what you had signed up for the night before.

There were a few emojis exchanged and then finally, you got the creative plan for the shoot. It was supposed to be a Romeo-and-Juliet aesthetic, inspired by the 90s Leonardo DiCaprio version. You grinned, remembering how fully obsessed you were with that movie in your teenage years. The vibes had always seemed so beautiful, popping shadows and gold chains, it was something you were eager to emulate.

As you read through the notes, you realized that they had a rapper coming in to play as Romeo. This threw you off, there was a certain way you modeled and when collaborating with others, you liked to be prepared beforehand. It wasn’t anything bad necessarily, you just liked to know your partners so that you could tweak your methods to their needs better. You took a breath before opening up Google to search up “Machine Gun Kelly.”

There were a shit-ton of articles to sort through, mostly relating to his new album release, “bloom.” Scrolling through the different new posts, you bit your lip. He seemed nice enough,a few things catching your eye straight off the bat. The tattoos that lined his skin were amazing, creating a tinge of jealousy as you looked at all of them. Tattoos were your weakness, having about ten smaller ones yourself. This was going to be interesting.

Landing at the airport, you caught a Lyft straight to the set. Since this was an emergency fill-in, you didn’t have time to do much else, sighing as the Galore studio came into view. You loved being in California, the sun shining down on you, cobbled streets, lazing living and you really wanted to enjoy all of it.

Right away, the front desk assistant shuffled you off to the hair and make-up room. The team had a very specific vision to execute and you smiled as their creation came to life. Putting on a natural, dewy look, you sat up straight, trying to make this process as easy as possible for everyone.

Picking up tweezers, they aligned gems under your eyes, making the color pop. Lightly dusting some shimmery powder on your cheek, they moved on to your hair. Straightening it, they applied some sleeking oils before tying it back a little. All of a sudden, one of the top makeup executives came rushing in, holding a swatch of eyeshadow.

“Put this on her! And make sure her lip color matches. Let’s go, hurry it up,” he clapped, throwing the palate to the artist working on you. You shut your eyes, letting fingers run over your eyelids. The color was a dusky pink and as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you felt good.

Applying some Vaseline on your lips before the pink gloss, you pursed your mouth together, blowing a kiss at the mirror. Glancing up, you caught the eye of someone standing behind you.

Turning around, you looked up to see none other than Machine Gun Kelly, leaning against the doorway. His makeup seemed to be already done, matching the glow of yours. His hair was done up, looking soft and sharp at the same time. There was a scar on his cheek, cut open and you saw the eyeshadow shade splotched around it, creating dusky pink on top of his cheekbone. He was smiling at you and you felt a blush start to rise on your cheeks.

“Promise I’m not that cocky. Ever,” you muttered, trying to avoid his warm gaze.

“Cockiness is sexy,” he laughed, leaning over to reach out a hand, “I’m Kells.”

“Y/N,” you responded, giving him a loose handshake.

“Oh c’mon, I know you can shake harder than that,” he grinned, gripping the tips of your fingers in his hand.

“I mean, I could. But why would I want to?” you responded cheekily. Raising his eyebrows, he smirked, dropping your hand.

“HEY YOU TWO! GET INTO COSTUME,” the executive assistant shouted as she passed by. Walking behind you, she leaned in to whisper, “Looks like someone’s getting along,” before going on her way. Feeling the blush climb just a little higher, you got up off the chair.

“Costumes that way,” you murmured, pointing down the hall as Kells followed behind you.

“So, you know a lot about Galore?” he asked and you smiled thinking of all the memories you had in these very rooms.

“Yeah, they gave me my first big break yanno? I’ve been eternally indebted to them since,” you explained, letting your fingers trail over the walls covered in autographs.

“Wow, big ups to you. Most people forget where they come from, glad to see you sticking to your roots,” he spoke as you turned into the room.

“Mhm,” you whispered, immediately getting distracted by the racks that hung around the room. Colors popped out from every corner, complementing the golden shades on your faces. Reaching out to touch one of the satin shirts, you felt Kells nudge your elbow from behind.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to touch those,” he murmured, nodding to the sign that the costume designer had hung up.

“They’re beautiful, I have to. Fuck the rules,” you muttered, picking up one of the hangers off the rack.

He gave you a look before mumbling, “That’s what I like to hear,” and then both of you were grabbing hangers, pulling clothes off of the racks.

“Where do we change?” he asked, hands bunching up the expensive silky shirts. You knew the changing stations were next door, but you didn’t want to really walk over.

Looking up at Kells, you smirked before going, “Right here?”

“Oh? Don’t have to tell me twice,” he said, throwing the shirts on one of the chairs in the room. Reaching to pull over his white t-shirt, he laughed, seeing your gaze on his bare torso.

“Sorry, I um, haven’t seen so many tattoos on somebody,” you stuttered out, hands itching to reach across and touch.

“I think that’s what they all say,” he said, running his tongue against his teeth.

“Shut up, get naked,” you scoffed, turning around to hide the red of your cheeks.

Pulling off your top, you reached for the first shirt you had grabbed, a deep blue button down. It wasn’t meant for you, reaching down to the tops of your thighs as you closed one of the lower buttons. The shoot was going to be in lingerie anyway, and you knew Kells would see your body, so there wasn’t any reason to hide it right now. Turning around, you presented yourself, throwing up jazz hands.

He guffawed, palms reaching up to cover his mouth. Widening your eyes, you leaned over, putting your hands on top of his.

“Stop, are you trying to get caught?” you shushed him, looking at the door for the costume director to walk in at any minute.

“I’m sorry, you just look great, I. I can’t even come up with words,” he snickered as you moved your hands back.

Flipping him off, you took a step back, admiring his look. He was wearing a deep pink suit, jacket open to reveal all his tattoos, pants tailored to his exact body shape. Looking him up and down, you wet your lips, tongue reaching out involuntary.

He opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly a shout came through the door. “What is going ON? Y/N you know better,” came rushing out of the mouth of the director. Snapping at you, she pointed over to a rack filled with satin lingerie.

“Get the white one on now. Take this shit off,” she said, reaching for the blue shirt you’d done up. Huffing, you shrugged it off, before walking over to the clothes for you. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see her fussing over Colson’s fit, playing around with the buttons on his jacket.

Shrugging off your sweatpants, you pulled on the white outfit. It fell to the bottom of your legs, slits done meticulously to show off your legs. The lace on it was beautiful, and you hesitated before stepping back around, suddenly getting a little bundle of nerves in your belly.

“Perfect! Come here,” she muttered, reaching for something on the table. Picking up a set of angel wings, she turned you around, snapping them over your back.

You saw Kells staring at you from his spot by the door, and the heat in his eyes was unmistakable. The bundle turned into a flutter and you swallowed, trying to calm yourself down. This was just going to be another shoot, nothing special.

Oh how wrong you were. Right off the bat, the director asked you both to go across the street, in the mansion they had booked for the day. This was your first time exploring and you had quietly marveled in the grandeur of it all. There was a high wall, taller than you were, but coming to right around Colson’s chin. The director lifted you up, and then you were posing on top of the wall, bare legs soaking in the sun as Colson played with your hand, standing right below you.

For the first few shots, you looked out in the distance, trying not to catch his eyes. It had gotten intimidating to make eye contact, especially now that you were in the headspace of Juliet. After a couple of takes, you got pulled aside, softly told to “Act like you’re in love, dammit,” and then popped back up on the wall.

Taking a breath, you steadied yourself as Colson put your palm in his, and made eye contact, softly smiling as he looked up at you. The pose felt like forever, eyes boring into each other, and then the director shouted, “Amazing! Ok next,” and you were being pulled down into the next area.

A few solo photos later, they put you back on the wall. Colson stood in between your bare legs, leaning into you. His arms braced on either side of your hips. The close proximity made you nervous, and you let out a soft laugh as his hair brushed against your cheek.

“Shhh,” he whispered, barely moving his mouth.

“You shhh,” you whispered back, leaning your shoulder against his.

Instead of responding, he simply reached his hand over, putting it slightly over yours. Tapping his thumb against the back of your hand, he slowly moved it into a stroke and you pulled your legs together instinctively, forgetting he was in between them.

You saw the smirk build in his face and you let out a breath, trying to not let him get to you.

“What’s wrong,” he murmured, still moving his thumb agonizingly slow on your hand. Nudging him with your thigh, you tried to shut him up as the camera flashed.

“Done. Okay, both of you. Take a break, go change. We need to get a few more shots in before the sun goes down,” the photographer shot out and you pushed Kells back a little, throwing him a grin before sauntering back to the studio.

Switching into the green lingerie suit, you looked at yourself in the mirror. This one was a smaller one-piece and you glanced at your booty, making sure it looked good for the pictures. Pulling the suit up a little, you admired the way the lace cupped your boobs, perfectly covering your nipples. Picking up a towel from nearby, you wrapped it around before crossing back over to the mansion.

Kells was standing there in the blue shirt from earlier, and you let out a laugh, seeing the perfect way it hung off of him. You reached up, adjusting his collar, smiling as you saw him gulp.

“I think you look better in this,” you murmured, fingers delicately running right over his neck.

Stepping back before he could respond, you took off your towel, putting it on the desk nearby. Turning back around, you saw his face, eyes eagerly running up and down your exposed body.

“I think you’d look better in nothing,” he mumbled, hand rubbing at his chin. You felt yourself get warmer at his comment, and you threw a wink at him, before walking over to the director who was setting up a beautiful red car.

“Game plan?” you asked, clapping your hands together.

Ten minutes later, you were balancing on Kells’ thigh as he sat on the car’s hood. One leg hitched over him, the other extended as you stood straight. You pressed your torso against his, arching into him, throwing your head back so you could bare your neck.

Placing both hands on his chest, you laughed as the director yelled at Colson, placing him into position. He wrapped a hand around your back and you felt yourself naturally lean into the touch. His other hand came to rest on your bare thigh, pressing in slightly, fingers barely there. He looked straight at you, and you feel your heartbeat pulse as the camera started clicking.

“Y/N! Wrap your arms around his neck. Yes, now look right over at the camera,” came the shouts from the director. Colson pulled you closer, bringing the arm around your waist closer. He turned to face the camera too and you watched the director falter for a second before rushing over to take the picture.

“Holy fuck! That was incredible,” she yelled from behind the screen, and you giggled, letting your head fall on his shoulder.

“Y/n, you’re free to go for tonight,” the executive director said, pointing around the rest of the crew to pick up different set pieces. You nodded, grabbing your duffel bag as you turned to face her real quick, “Uh, what about Kells?”

He was across the room, getting more eyeshadow dusted onto his cut, typing away on his phone. The director looked over at him, before looking at you, eager to get away with him.

Rolling her eyes, she went, “Listen, I need him for a few more shots tonight, but he’ll be done in half an hour if you wanna hang around. I know Gina’s been dying to catch up with you.”

Grinning, you dropped your bag on the seat. Pulling your hair up into a ponytail, you walked past Colson to the hair station. Gina had been the first friend you’d made modeling and she was incredible at her job, a creative visionary when it came to not only styling hair, but keeping it protected when crazy things were happening too.

Leaving the room, you heard Colson go, “Hey, wait where’s Y/N going?” and you smiled, knowing that you weren’t the only one feeling the heat building between the two of you. As you got out of earshot, you could still hear the director yelling, “Don’t get your panties in a twist!” and you almost walked smack into Gina herself, snickering at his panic.

Half an hour later, you were clinging onto Gina’s words as she told you the latest horror story of a terrible famous client. She had broke out a bottle of rosé, sipping on bubbles while you picked at the platter of fruits you had stolen from the front desk. There was a knock on the door, and you hopped off of the counter, pulling it open. Kells stood there, back in his regular clothes, Converse knocking against each other as he stumbled a little.

“Hey,” he mumbled.

You lifted your cup up, taking another sip, raising your eyebrows, urging him to continue by nodding slightly.

“So, I’m kinda stuck in the area for the next two days for this terrible photoshoot I’m doing with this horrible girl -” he started, and you interrupted him, choking on the rosé as it hit the back of your throat, laughing.

“Sorry, uh, you were talking about this awful girl?” you continued, getting most of it out of your system.

“Right, yeah. Would you wanna get dinner with me?” he finished, making that eye contact again, creating a warm fuzz in your tummy.

“Yeah, yes. Yeah,” you blurted out, rosé and nerves rumbling within you.

“You said that already,” he grinned as you went over to pick up your bag.

“Shut up,” you grinned back, trying to hide your smile.

“Bye Gins, I’ll catch you tomorrow,” you said, leaning in for a hug. Kissing your cheek, she whispered in your ear, “Get some please. I need to know, for science,” and you let out a belly-laugh before following Colson out the door as he waved goodbye.

It was all in the name of science right? No harm, no foul.

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years ago

Text

The alluring charm of Henry Cavill - Chapter 4

Summary: Henry and Adelaide are on the road for some more challenges, some disgusting, some almost romantic.

Henry Cavill x Adelaide Park (ofc)

Wordcount: 6k

Warnings: They’re eating weird things (no not each other), but it’s disgusting. I nearly had to vomit when I wrote it and you can thank me later for not including pictures of the certain cuisines they were eating.

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

Henry can’t say many positive things about ‘The Celebrity Project’, but the fact that they edited a very decent first episode in a matter of twenty four hours, so it could air, is very impressive. It covered the days up to the late night swim. Though the swim was pulled out of context and he hated that (one of the reasons actually he didn’t want to join: reality tv is never reality) the editors made it seem like they were a couple.

Henry realized that they left out the ‘dyslexia question’ he asked her about. Why would they want to do that? Did she specifically asked for them to keep that out or do they not want people to understand her a bit better? He did realize that he had a lot more understanding for her and the way she handles interviews.

Henry walks around the cottage, hoping to find Adelaide, because he saw the new challenge on the coffee table and he can’t to do it alone. He hears her humming from the bathroom. The door is wide open and he catches her standing on a little stool so she can actually see herself in the mirror. He can’t help but smile.

Adelaide owns a huge variety of cute pajamas and today she is wearing a pink short with little avocado’s on it, with a matching shirt. ‘What are you doing?’ he asks, leaning against the doorframe.

She looks up, dots of her night creme spread over her face and flashes him a smile. After they swam in the pool, he felt the desperate need to win slowly slipping through his fingers, as if the dream of becoming James Bond was like desert sand. What was happening to him? He turns in a pile of mush whenever Adelaide is around him.

Yesterday, when the first episode would air, all the duos made dinner with each other and watched the episode together. While they were making dinner, he kept holding himself back, to not pull everything from Adelaide’s hands. It was ridiculous. He knows that she is a mature, independent woman and that she can totally manage.

‘Skin care,’ she says, as she massages in the creme. ‘What are you… here? Doing here?’

They have spend so much time together, that she grows more comfortable around him and of course she makes slip ups every now and then, but her cheeks don’t turn into a fiery red as they used to.

‘We have a challenge downstairs. Figured we should do that.’

‘Of course.’ Adelaide flicks off the light and together they walk down the stairs. She notices the stuff spread out on the table. The two empty wine glasses, the red wine that he got from the cellar and the cards to get to know one another. She takes a chip and plops on the couch. ‘What is it?’

‘Get to know cards,’ he says, trying to hide his wide smile, but he simply can’t. This is what he wanted. He wanted to get to know Adelaide and though they have become closer over the course of the days, she is a professional in not going too deep into her family life and her personal life in general. He sits close to her, her feet almost touching his thigh.

Yesterday, when they all were watching the first episode, she kicked off her sneakers and was almost hiding underneath a blanket. Her feet were warming underneath his leg. He didn’t think she noticed what she did, but as soon as she did, she started softly apologizing, but he simply shook his head and said it was okay. It was well hidden underneath the blanket and despite the warm weather, her feet were really cold.

Henry grabs her ankles and places her feet on his lap, after he poured in the wine in the glasses and gave her one. ‘Ready?’ he asks, placing his hand on her ankle.

‘I think I am.’ Adelaide looks right in his eyes, but he notices her lips pursed together.

‘If you don’t want to answer it, you don’t have to,’ he tells her. ‘Remember that, okay?’

‘Same goes…’ She carelessly gestures to him, but he got the message. Same goes for him.

‘What is your most unusual talent?’ he asks and he visibly sees her relax when she realizes that these are the types of questions. ‘Want to know mine?’ Maybe that’ll ease her mind even more if he starts.

‘Yes, please.’

‘I can do make a four leave clover with my tongue.’ He shows off the ridiculous thing and Adelaide places her hand in front of her mouth.

‘That’s so weird,’ she chuckles. ‘I can’t even do the roll thing with my tongue.’ She sticks out her tongue, almost looking crossed eyed as she tries to roll her tongue. A laugh leaves his lips. He likes it when she’s goofy with him, it shows him that she trusts him. ‘My unique talent is that I can hit a whistle tone.’ Knowing that he wants to hear it, she clears her throat, does some vocal exercises and goes from a pretty high note, all the way to a whistle tone.

‘Damn,’ he mutters out. ‘So I take it that you can sing too.’

She shrugs. ‘Hardly.’

‘Sing something for me,’ he says with a smile.

‘That wasn’t a question on the get to know me-cards.’ She takes the first one out of his hands and says: ‘Next one.’

He’ll get her to sing.

‘Next question,’ he says, getting another card of the deck. ‘Sing the first song that comes to mind.’ Henry can’t help but laugh, throwing his head back against the wall.

‘It does not say that,’ Adelaide says, snatching the card out of his hands. She frowns as she reads the question and she pouts as she realizes it does say exactly that. ‘This is just mean.’

‘I’ll go first,’ he says. The first song that comes to mind, after totally blanking for five whole seconds is the most ridiculous song he has ever thought of in his entire life and that is all thanks to his mom who played this non stop when he and his brothers were growing up.

Waterloo, I was defeated, you won the war

Waterloo, promise to love you for ever more

Henry doesn’t get further than two sentences, because he bursts out in laughter when he catches Adelaide’s eye, who is trying her hardest to not laugh at him. He never heard his voice this squeaky and shaky and hides his face in his hand. ‘I’m so sorry you had to listen to that.’

‘Why are you singing Waterloo by Abba? How is that the first song that comes to mind?’

‘It’s all my mothers fault. She used to listen to that song all the time.’

She simply cocks an eyebrow.

‘I blanked, okay and this was the first I could think of. You sing something now.’

Adelaide looks like she is trying to think of all different types of excuses, but knows deep down that she can’t get out of this.

You’re the only one that saves me when I’m alone

You’re the only love that I’ve ever known

But we turned into a flower that never grows

I was hiding like the moonlight that never shows

I should’ve told you that I loved you

One more time, one more time, one more time

She wasn’t looking at him when she sang, but after she said the last “one more time”, their eyes meet and her voice slowly fades out. She had a lovely tone, a warm, nearly hoarse singing voice.

He really does not want her to stop, but he can’t force Adelaide to sing more. The fact that she sang six beautiful sentences to him already, is something he should cherish. ‘Wow,’ he admits. ‘You have a beautiful voice.’

Adelaide doesn’t take the compliment. She simply gestures for the next question. He wants to overload her with compliments, about how she should record an album and he would buy it in a heartbeat, but he decides to listen to her and grab a new question.

‘What celebrity would you most want to sit next to on an airplane?’ he asks.

She smiles. ‘Easy: you.’

‘Me?’ Henry asks, placing his hand on his chest. ‘Why me?’

Adelaide simply shrugs, as a blush appears on her cheeks. ‘I like you.’

She likes him? The smile on his face, is inevitable.

‘But you can pick any celebrity you want,’ he says, ‘and you already know me.’

‘I know,’ she tells him, ‘but I’m not really looking to get to know someone new. I’d rather learn more about people that I already know.’

That is adorable, especially since it’s in the combination with her cheeks turning slightly pink.

‘Who would you like to sit next to on an airplane?’ she asks him.

‘You, of course. We could play some of these cards. You could maybe sing for me.’

‘Shut up,’ she chuckles.

He grins, probably like an idiot and the hidden camera’s here most likely pick up on it. ‘What’s a weird family tradition you have?’

‘Can we skip that one?’ she asks in tiny font. ‘Please?’

He actually doesn’t want to, but he simply nods, taking a sip of his wine. ‘If you joined the circus, what would your act be? I’d be a lion tamer for sure,’ he chuckles. ‘I’d love that.’

‘I could see that happen,’ she says. ‘Especially in a nice costume they always wear. I want to be one of those flexible people.’

‘A contortionist?’ he asks. ‘Why?’

‘That’s fun. Here, see this.’ She straightens her arm in front of her, holding her hand as if she’s telling you non verbally to stop. She turns her hand ninety degrees to the side, another ninety, another ninety, before she actually turned her hand a full 360 degrees.

‘No, no, no,’ he says, as he sees her hand totally twist back to normal. He takes her wrist in his hand, checking her elbow and her shoulder, to see if it’s all okay. ‘That can’t be normal.’

‘Little trick I taught myself back in the day and if you keep it up, you can still do it when you’re older.’ She nods, emphasizing that that it’s true.

‘I believe you.’ He grabs the next question card. ‘Think of a warning label for the other person.’

‘Yours would say…’ Adelaide purses her lips and says: ‘Something about: beware of the charms, because you are by far the most charming man I’ve ever met.’

Henry shouldn’t be blushing, but on the other hand: this is the nicest compliment he has gotten in years. The host of that stupid trivia game kept calling him ‘Handsome Henry with a Brain’ and it annoyed the shit out of him. Being called charming, especially by someone like Adelaide, is something he never knew he wanted this much. ‘That’s sweet, Addy. Yours would be: will kill you with her adorableness.’

She hides her face in her hands, but he is thankful that she does that, since it gives him a moment to hide his own blush.

He finds out a lot about her. She’d rather have teeth as hair, then hair as her teeth (something that he completely agrees with). If she could talk to an animal, she’d talk to a koala because they are so cute, while he would want to talk to Kal. She can’t reach her nose with her tongue, while he on the other hand can.

But he also discovers that she really must have a low tolerance when it comes to alcohol, because after just finishing her glass, she is becoming more and more tired and he watches her drifting off to sleep. He slowly lifts up her legs, so he can stand up. Her neck is craned in a weird position, and he doesn’t want her to feel that in the morning. He lifts her up and carries her to bed. When he placed her on the mattress, she immediately turns around to hug the pillows.

Henry checks the locks and turns off the lights, before he steps into the bed as well. When the room goes completely dark, he hears the soft breathing of Adelaide and he feels her fingers against his arm. He looks to the side, only to see that she is still asleep.

He smiles, before closing his eyes to fall asleep.

◎ ◎ ◎

The next morning Henry wakes up because Adelaide nudges him awake. She is all dressed up and ready for the day. He stares at her in a lovely white dress, her short light brown hair dancing around her face. The smile on her face is infectious, because he feels one appear on his own face. ‘Good morning,’ she says. ‘I made you breakfast.’

‘You did?’ Henry sits up straight, rubs his face and says: ‘I usually make you breakfast.’

Adelaide nods. ‘I know, but I wanted to do something for you. You know… In return.’ She tells him to hurry and she nearly skips out of the room. He quickly puts on some sweatpants and socks, checking his phone in the process.

Richard: You are definitely doing everything you can to win, now do you?

Why is his agent messaging him? He barely messages him.

Henry: What do you mean?

Richard: I mean, I know you. We’ve been working together for years now. You don’t actually like her now, do you?

Henry: Well, I enjoy her company. I mean, it’s best for me to make most out of it, right?

Richard: That’s not an answer to my question. You like her?

Henry: I like being around her, yes.

Richard: Don’t go catching feelings for her now, Cavill. When you lose, who are you going to blame then?

Henry stares at his phone. Shouldn’t he catch feelings for her? Is that even what he is doing? He meant what he told his agent: he enjoys her company and likes being around her.

But he also likes her. A lot.

He quickly walks downstairs and when he is in the living room, he discovers that Adelaide knows exactly about his preferences. She made orange juice and four sandwiches for him, while she only made two for herself. He also spots some boiled eggs in the middle, some watermelon and even tofu.

‘Wow,’ he says, impressed by the amount of food and how well she actually knows him. This isn’t helping for the not catching feelings, if he even wanted to do that. ‘Really?’

‘Really.’

He takes a seat, just like her and takes a sip of the orange juice. It’s weird, but everything always tastes better when it’s made by someone else. They eat, Henry in his own tempo, while she goes in a much slower pace, as usual.

They have established a certain routine already, a morning routine, a night routine—it’s all so domestic and it isn’t even awkward or forced.

‘I read the next challenge and we’re going on a…’ Her voice drifts off and he sees her frown, as she is moving her lips, syllable for syllable. ‘Sca-ven-ger hunt.’

Henry smiles, proud of how quickly she does it. It usually takes a bit more time. ‘That sounds like fun.’

‘Probably with a twist again,’ she says, taking a bite of tofu.

He can’t help but be amused with how she eats, almost like a hamster. She pouts her lips as she chews, staring into the space. He wonders why she eats so slowly, why she doesn’t even talk his ear off?

Was he disappointed yesterday that she did’t answer that question about a weird family tradition? Sure, but he told her himself that if she doesn’t want to answer anything, she doesn’t need to. And she felt safe enough to tell him her boundaries.

After they ate, he reads the card and he quickly gets ready for real this time. When he comes back, he sees her sitting on the couch, her posture amazing as always. He grabs the keys and he sees she actually has a brown paper bag filled with goods as she stands up.

For a few moments Henry thinks that they are just going on a trip together, no camera’s, just them. He can see it happen: going to the beach, with the snacks Adelaide packed and just enjoying the sun.

But when he opens the car door for her and sees not only the carseat and the camera’s, he realizes again he is on the Celebrity Project.

◎ ◎ ◎

They have to drive for at least an hour and it’s actually Adelaide that turns on the radio. They hear One Direction’s Best Song Ever and Henry doesn’t want to admit that he knows this song by heart and that it’s his favorite song by the former band.

He doesn’t want to sing it, but then he hears Adelaide’s beautiful voice sing: ‘Maybe it’s the way she walked.’

He can’t help but to growl out: ‘Wow!’

She opens her mouth to sing the second line, but the ‘wow’ stops her and she looks to the side. ‘Oh my, is Henry Cavill a Directioner?’

‘Please don’t call it that,’ he says, a blush appearing on his cheeks. Great, if they put this in the next episode (and they will, Henry knows for sure), the whole world will know that Henry Cavill is a Directioner.

‘This is cute,’ Adelaide laughs. ‘Tell me, who was your favorite.’

Knowing he can’t get out of this, he mumbles: ‘Harry.’

‘Figured.’

‘Yours?’

‘Niall Horan,’ she says. She places her hand on his forearm for a brief moment. ‘No need to blush, Henry. It’s quite cute.’

Adelaide continues to sing and Henry decides to just sing along, not caring anymore about his singing voice. They even sing a few ABBA songs and the song she actually sang yesterday, “I should’ve told you’’ by Fiji Blue. He had never heard of it, but he concludes that her voice is beyond beautiful and fits this type of song perfectly.

‘Our voices go well together,’ she admits, after their duet of ‘Beauty and the Beast’, the official version of Celine Dion and Peabo Bryson. ‘When you’re not singing ABBA songs, you have a nice voice.’

He pinches her in her side, causing her to squeal. ‘Careful now, Addy,’ he chuckles. ‘Otherwise I have to push you off your carseat.’

‘Mean,’ she says, rolling her eyes. ‘Maybe after this, you could participate in those shows where celebrities who aren’t singers, go on and sing songs for charity as well.’

‘Only if you are my partner,’ he says. ‘I don’t want to go alone.’

Adelaide frowns, before she nods. ‘We do work good together, don’t we?’

‘We do,’ he says.

She stares at him for a few seconds, he can see it out of the corners of his eyes. ‘Can we stop for a minute?’ she asks, pointing to a gas station. ‘I have to pee.’

He gets off the lane, parks the car and together they walk inside. A crew follows them, after they parked the car that drove behind them the entire time. Adelaide rushes to the bathroom and he goes on and buys some bottles of water and an iced coffee. The man behind the counter is pretty nice and they talk a bit about the show, but when Adelaide walks out of the bathroom, shaking her hands dry, the man completely ignores Henry. ‘Miss Adelaide Park?’ The man gets away from behind the counter, brings some paper towels for Adelaide and hands them to her. ‘I’m big fan.’

‘Oh,’ she says with a smile, drying her hands. ‘That’s sweet.’

‘I loved all your movies, but ‘Remembering High School.’ He kisses his fingers. ‘Amazing. I watch over and over.’

Henry leans against the counter and he can’t help but smile.

‘Really? What is your… favorite episode?’

‘Where you graduate. Very sweet, very beautiful and emotional. Me and girlfriend cry a lot about it.’

He wants to take a picture with Adelaide and Henry offers to take it for them. Adelaide actually stands on her tippy toes, to look a bit taller. The man is very happy to have met Adelaide and she even records a little video for the man’s girlfriend, something that Henry never thought of doing.

He did see some fan videos on YouTube of Adelaide with fans and it always warmed his heart. The way she takes her time.

Adelaide manages to tear herself away from the man and the two of them get back in the car. ‘Did he even notice that you were Superman?’ she asks.

He shakes his head. ‘I mean, I’m pretty famous, but nowhere near as famous as you are.’

‘That’s not true,’ she says, as he drives off.

For a few seconds, he places his hand on her thigh. ‘It is, Addy and you can admit it. No need to be humble about that.’

◎ ◎ ◎

Their first challenge contains eating certain cuisines from all over the world and in order to win, both of them have to take a bite of every dish. Every person has one pass, but if they don’t use it, they get even extra points.

Henry rubs his hands together, because he likes to broaden his horizon when it comes to food and this seems like an easy challenge to win. He isn’t afraid of trying out new things and he wonders what Adelaide is like with different types of cuisines.

Adelaide takes off the silver cover off the food. Instead of water running out of his mouth in anticipation, Henry nearly gags when his eyes fall on the first dish. ‘What on earth is that?’ he asks, placing his hand over his mouth.

Adelaide grabs the card and without looking away from the dish, she hands him the piece of paper says: ‘I think it’s on here. It looks like a spider.’

Henry clears his throat, before he reads the card. ‘It’s a fried tarantula and it originated from Colombia. It’s crispy on the outside, and gooey on the inside.’

Adelaide grabs one by its paw and holds it front of her, inspecting the snack.

‘They also say it tastes a bit like chicken,’ he continues. ‘Can I use my pass already? Because this is— Oh fuck, Adelaide, what are you doing?’

Full of disgust he stares at the petite woman in front of him, who actually took a bite of the most unappetizing looking snack ever. Did she actually just do that or is he hallucinating? He sure hopes it’s the latter.

However she looks up and says: ‘It does taste like chicken. You want to have a bite? It’s really not that bad.’

‘Did you actually just eat that?’ he asks, just in case he was hallucinating.

‘Yes.’ She frowns, staring at him with the biggest: are you fucking blind-face he has ever encountered in his entire life. ‘Come on, don’t be a big fat baby.’ She holds the disgusting looking fried tarantula in front of his mouth. ‘Henry, take a bite.’

‘Is it really not that bad?’ he says, as he feels vomit come up. He can’t seem to do it, because it’s… so disgusting.

‘It’s actually pretty good.’

With a scrunched up face, he opens his mouth, closes it again when he thinks about it for a while and shakes his head. ‘I can’t do it. This is disgusting.’

‘You already want to use your pass? What if the next thing is even more disgusting?’ She frowns. ‘I thought you wanted to win, Henry. Do you give up already?’

That is true. He wants to win and he keeps thinking about her holding him back, but now it’s the other way around. He holds her wrist and brings the disgusting looking snack to his mouth. Only Adelaide scares him by moving the tarantula in front of his mouth. Henry lets out a scream that is much higher than expected and he nearly tumbles backwards. She folds over as she laughs out loud. ‘You should’ve seen your face and what was that scream? You sounded like al little girl.’

‘That is really mean,’ he says, his heart pounding painfully in his throat. He watches as Adelaide places the thing on the tray again and wipes away the tears in her eyes. ‘I can’t believe you did that.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ she laughs, but she doesn’t mean it at all. ‘But I saw my moment and took it. You can’t blame me.’

He chuckles softly, because it was pretty funny and he would’ve done it the exact same thing. It takes him a few seconds, but he quickly takes a bite and chews on it, trying not to taste it.

But Adelaide was right: it does taste like chicken.

The next thing, makes her clap her hands. ‘Beondegi,’ she says with a chuckle.

‘You know this dish?’ he asks, looking at the most disgusting pile of silkworms on the plate.

‘My mom made this once.’ Her expressions falters a bit, but before he can comment on that, she says: ‘It’s not that bad, but not great either. It reminded her of home, so that’s why we ate it.’ She grabs a tiny skewer and sticks one on it, before she eats it.

‘You know no fear, now do you?’ he says, a smile appearing on his face, because he is in fact proud of her. ‘How are you such a dare devil?’

‘I can eat everything,’ Adelaide says, simply shrugging. ‘Come on, eat it.’ She sticks another one on the skewer and holds it near his lips. ‘I won’t scare you this time, I promise you.’

He takes a step closer to her and quickly eats it. Oh shit, it has no taste, but the texture makes him shiver. Henry actually doesn’t want to continue this, but she is right: he wants to win and besides, if she can eat it without blinking her eyes twice, so should he, right?

They continue to eat other disgusting things. Adelaide fed him grasshoppers that didn’t taste that bad, except for the surprising juice that came out of it. The frog legs were disgusting and they even ate some crocodile and whale. It is surprising that Adelaide continued to persuade him into eating all those disgusting things, but he has to really. She eats it without hesitation and since he doesn’t want to look like a wimp, he eats it too.

However, he does feel like he needs to throw up any second now.

They are at the last tray and Adelaide steps back when she lifts up the cover. ‘No, I’m not eating that,’ she says.

He stares at the very unappetizing snack on the tray, before he starts to laugh. ‘That’s escargot, Addy.’

‘I know that, but I’m not eating that.’

‘You ate all of that,’—he gestures at the rest of the table—‘but this you won’t eat? What is wrong with you?’

She gives him a push that brings herself out of balance and he has to catch her arms before she tumbles over. ‘Well, this is really disgusting. I mean— Henry, stop laughing.’

‘I can’t help it! You are being ridiculous.’

She grabs the tray and holds it in front of him. ‘Well, eat it first then.’

Adelaide Park, the sweet woman he has come to adore—oh no, is he falling for her?—is actually testing him right now? Is he seeing that correctly?

Henry doesn’t actually want to. ‘How about we use our pass?’

‘If you eat it,’ Adelaide says, ‘I’ll eat it too. Promise.’

He takes something off the plate and barely chews on it, before he eats it. ‘Disgusting,’ he gags.

‘You are a big baby,’ she chuckles, before she takes one off the plate and she eats it without a hitch, though she scrunches up her nose. ‘Strange texture.’

‘I can’t believe you,’ he chuckles. ‘You know no fear.’

◎ ◎ ◎

Their next challenge is not one, not two, but three dance classes. The first class is a kids dance class. henry has no idea what kind of song this is, but he feels it’s in the baby shark category. The young Italian kids continue to look over their shoulders, to stare at him, before looking over at Adelaide, who must be less intimidating to them.

After the most tiring hour of his life, Henry becomes the laughingstock of the training, because the little kids insist on him and Adelaide performing the dance. However Adelaide starts to laugh, causing the kids to burst into a fit of giggles, especially when she falls on the floor because of how hard she is laughing at his not so great performance.

After that, they have to attend a line dance class and somehow Henry is a whole lot better in that, than Adelaide is. He holds out his hand for her to take and hoists her right back up when she trips. He never would’ve thought that this was something that he would enjoy, but seeing the alternations between Adelaide’s frown and her infectious laugh, he has to admit that this is nice. The people who are teaching them the dance are friendly and someone even lends out his cowboy hat for Adelaide to wear, completing the look.

With a water bottle in their hands, they walk through the corridors to the next and thankfully final dancing class. ‘This is intense,’ Adelaide comments. ‘But you looked like quite the cowboy, mister Cavill.’

He can’t help but laugh. ‘And you fit right in with the kids. About the same height.’

She slaps his stomach and he chuckles. ‘What do you think is next?’ she asks.

‘I have no idea. Maybe tap?’

She bursts out in laughter. ‘I would pay money to see you tap dance.’

However it’s not tap dancing they are going to do (thankfully), but salsa dancing. The age ratio in this room is probably sixty plus, but these people know exactly how to move. One woman spots them and quickly stops the music. ‘Oh! Superman!’ she exclaims, but when she walks over to them, her eyes fall on Adelaide. ‘Oh my, Adelaide Park. Beautiful woman! So talented. You here for dance class?’

Adelaide nods.

The woman pulls Adelaide into a tight hug. ‘We watched your movies,’ she tells Adelaide, holding her upper arms. ‘You are fenomenale!’

Henry watches his partner starting to blush. ‘She is,’ he agrees.

‘My name is Elena.’ She ushers a man over and introduces him as her husband Gianluca. ‘I really look forward to teach you the basics.’

Elena helps him with the basics, while Gianluca is helping out Adelaide. He constantly hears Adelaide apologize for yet again stepping on the older man’s feet, but he doesn’t seem to care.

Salsa is a lot harder than he thought it would be, but Elena is an excellent teacher, who, with her sternness, teaches him exactly what to do. He continues to hear that he apparently has very stiff hips, while he genuinely thought he wasn’t that bad.

‘You know, how you do boom-boom?’ Elena says.

Boom-boom? ‘What?’

‘Sex!’

The entire room looks over to them and he notices Adelaide trying to hide a smile. Did Elena really have to yell that word out loud? ‘I do know my way around,’ he says, his throat tightening out of discomfort.

‘No hips forward and backwards, but do same thing, same power, but sideways.’

He doesn’t quite understand, but when Elena places her hands on his hips, forcing him to “sway” his hips sideways, he feels pretty uncomfortable, but when he looks over at Adelaide, those discomforts all seem to go away, when he notices her still watching and still smiling.

‘You finally get it,’ Elena says. ‘Gianluca! How did Adelaide do?’

‘Very good. Very talented.’

‘Superman,’ the older woman says, ‘you and Adelaide show us how you can do this.’

Henry’s heart starts to pound painfully fast and he figures the entire room can either see or hear it. Elena pats him on the back, as she tells him to stand in the middle of the dance room. Gianluca escorts Adelaide towards the middle. ‘Nervous?’ Elena asks him.

‘What? No, no, no,’ Henry quickly says, though it’s a lie. He is really nervous.

‘Pretty woman,’ Gianluca says. ‘Intimidating for you. I understand.’

Adelaide looks away, but he notices the smile on her face. She is amused. He holds out his hand after he wiped it dry on his jeans and she places her in his. He pulls her body closer to his, as he places his hand on her back. Her other hand she places on his bicep, as her eyes meet his.

‘Don’t just look,’ Elena says. ‘Dance!’

Dancing with her was easy and out of the corners of his eye he noticed that Adelaide had no problem dancing with Elena’s husband. She was actually a pretty good dancer from what he saw.

Just what he did with the older woman, he does that with Adelaide, but he feels the swaying of her hips underneath the palm of his hand. Henry swallows hard as he leans forward, to place his forehead against hers, her hot breath against his lips.

The older people that were all around them, dancing and laughing at them before, are now all clapping on the beat of the music, but Henry only has eyes for Adelaide Park. He feels her nails in his bicep and he has to swallow, since his throat became real dry all of the sudden.

‘Is this okay?’ he whispers, just in case, because he really doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

‘This is okay,’ she chuckles. ‘You’re a good dancer, Henry.’

Henry feels her body closely against his. Feeling her forehead against his, her lips so close to his… He wonders about her dating history. Her kiss on ‘Remembering High School was her first and after that she lived in the spotlights and she never dated. Well, she never publicly dated and not because she is undateable (she is a whole catch, if Henry is being completely honest), but he thinks that she has been single since the moment she came into the spotlight. Who does that many movies a year and has time to date?

However, when he thinks about it, she is becoming more and more touchy. And not in a weird, sexual harassment sort of way. More in a way as if she is looking for comfort. She slides her feet under his thigh, doesn’t pull back her legs when he places her ankles on his lap and during the night, her fingers keep grazing over his skin.

And now, her hand holds onto his tightly and he notices her fingertips disappear underneath the hem of his sleeve.

The music stops, but he does not let go. He can’t even let go. There are so many things that he want to do. Pull her even closer to his body if that’s possible, to push that strand of hair out of her face and let his thumb graze over the apple of her cheek.

Don’t go catching feelings for her now. When you lose, who are you going to blame then?

Henry clears his throat, hoping to get the words of his agent out of his head, but Adelaide must have interpreted differently, because she lets go of him, smiling quickly at him, before turning around and giving Elena a hug.

◎ ◎ ◎

Comments a week later when the episode airs:

Taglist: @thelastsock // @jolly-polly // @henrythickcavill // @maan24 // @diegos-butt / @agniavateira // @onlyhenrys // @turkish276 //

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #the alluring charm of henry cavill #henry cavill x actress #henry cavill x adelaide park

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blueluneacy · 4 years ago

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Your Thoughts on Pages

This is the second place fic! It ended up not having sex, but rather just sweet moments and rohan being... weird. Once I finish everything on my list, I might do a follow up to this!

Also on AO3!

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: pining, inappropriate use of stands, rohan majorly overstepping his boundaries, slight angst

“Kishibe, I really don’t understand why I needed to come all the way out here for this…” You sighed, putting your binder to the side as you allowed yourself to sit down for the tea that Rohan had insisted on. Rohan was a nice enough person, but after the time you had worked with him, you could tell that he was a fairly independent kind of writer. Other writers you edited for liked to be in contact with you, or asked for your opinion on this or that, but not Rohan. That’s not to say you didn’t have a good relationship with him, just a bizarre one. The two of you had a nice long chat when you first became his editor, and it became very clear that you were not to mess with any of his vision. No one ever dared to try and give Rohan ideas on what he should do, or try to tell him that what he was writing was not what was wanted for the magazine. You simply collected the pages once a week in a neat envelope, and you would scan it all in. It was a nice, neat and cordial relationship. You never had to get on Rohan’s case about deadlines or the content of his work, to the point where the two of you rarely communicated. It wasn’t like you disliked the man, it’s just that you had a bunch of other artists to hound about this or that, that Rohan ended up as a nonissue. He was ol’ reliable, someone you didn’t have to deal with, the dependable artist. Even if the world was falling apart, Rohan Kishibe got his pages in on time. You supposed that him calling you then should’ve made you worry, but you were too focused on the meetings you had to cancel in order to see him.

“Oh, come on now, it’s been a long while. I figured I better be kind to my guest. And er… Butter you up before I hand over bad news.” Rohan told you, the last part of his sentence making you freeze up. Oh god, was he quitting? Were his hands broken? Was it, dear god, carpal tunnel? A million scenarios ran through your hand as Rohan sat down across from you, but absolutely none of them were what was actually going on.

“Bad news? Alright, lay it out on me. No sugar coating, the more I know, the better I can fix it. I mean, that’s literally what I’m here for, right?” You tried your best not to be nervous, already mentally writing out all the emails needed to clear out your day for this. If Rohan had bad news, then it was bad for everyone. Dark Pink Boy was easily the reason why most people bought the magazine in the first place, and you weren’t sure how everyone would take a hit if Rohan had to take an extended leave. But, he just sighed, leaning in a little, looking you right in the eye.

“I’ve run out of inspiration. Nothing is working, it seems like there’s nowhere for me to go.” He sighed, and for a moment, you actually… Relaxed. Well, alright. Rohan was going through a rut, that’s all. Perfectly natural for someone working as hard as he was. And, probably more easily fixable than carpal tunnel. Probably.

“I… I see. Well, how do you feel? Have you tried going on walks or something, or just… Well, I don’t know. Maybe reading other people’s work?” You suggested, shrugging a bit. Alright, this you could actually work this. You worked with probably over a hundred artists at this point to help them through writer’s block, and you succeeded most of the time. Why would Rohan be any different? Well, you did forget one detail.

“Other people’s work?” You actually heard him scoff at the very notion. “Of course I wouldn’t do that. My characterization is based on my observations and knowledge of real people, in order to write highly realistic characterization. My writing just wouldn’t be the same if I stooped to actually reading other people’s work. It’s a cycle of tweaking that would lead to me creating garbage.” Ah, that’s why Rohan was so difficult to work with. He was a diva when it came to his work, and it was also why you never had bothered to comment on his work in the first place. You had heard that the previous editor had tried to make Rohan tone down some of the themes in Dark Pink Boy, and it ended up in a fierce battle that left the old editor actually retiring. You didn’t want the hassle, and the readers liked the work as it was. You could hassle to make something family friendly with a smaller mangaka, you weren’t about to offend what was for all intents and purposes, the company’s bread and butter. So you bit your tongue and nodded, trying to think of some sort of solution.

“I see, I see… Well, there are plenty of fans who I’m sure would die to even talk to you, let alone help. Why not set up a meeting with a few and have some questionnaires ready? Or are you concerned they might give false answers because of who you are?” You tried, but Rohan just sighed and nodded.

“You already picked up on my concern. I know that any fan I would go to would ultimately be starstruck. I’ve tried with a few already, but it just never worked out. They were… They just weren’t the type of people my fans would enjoy. But, luckily, I do have a solution to all this. That’s where you come in.” Rohan told you, scooting just a bit closer as you let out a sigh of relief. Oh thank god, you wouldn’t have to write all those emails after all. He just needed your help with something? Thank god, you could easily do a few tasks for him. Beats trying to psychologically get this man through some sort of writer’s rut.

“Really? What is it? Just let me know, and I promise to do the best that I can.” You gave a smile, nodding a bit. Rohan could see the tension in your shoulders relax a bit, causing him to smile a little. Rohan always enjoyed your company, but he knew the relationship the two of you shared as much as he did. It was best if an editor didn’t get in the way. You knew that, and he appreciated that. It was almost embarrassing to him that he had to turn to you like this, but he quickly shed any shame he had for it. I mean, you weren’t really going to help in any way that others hadn’t helped before. If anything, this was more allowed because you were meant to be his resource. It wasn’t like you could complain.

“Well, I know you don’t idolize me. If anything, you seem frantic to get away from me.” Rohan said, a bit teasing. You jumped in to try and defend yourself, only for Rohan to continue. “Don’t worry, I know you’re busy. But, it’s perfect. You’ll be a perfect base to jump off of. Genuine, no need to impress me, and doesn’t care about influencing the end of the story.” He told you. You just sighed and pulled out your phone, already typing out the emails to clear out the rest of your day. You knew Rohan was meticulous, so this was already going to take a while. Might as well give yourself the time now.

“Alright, ask away then. I just need to clear out my schedule so I don’t have to abandon ship on you. I think the rest of the day should be doable…” You replied, not noticing how Rohan had stood up, an eerie grin crossing his face.

“Oh, that should be more than enough. But I don’t think I’m going to be asking any questions…” You turned to look back at the man, only to find his hand hit your face, your body tumbling onto the floor. You tried to pull yourself up, only to find that you couldn’t move. You gasped, your form starting to tremble as your eyes darted to your cheek, noticing paper fluttering in what used to be the skin of your cheek.

“Kishibe, what is going on-” You spoke out, only for Rohan to climb on top of you, straddling your body. You gulped, already expecting the worst, only for his to take the paper into your hands and start to read.

“Hmm, interesting. Those are the names of your parents, and… Oh, I see, I see!” Rohan reached over to grab a pen and notepad, jotting down a few notes.

“W-What are you… What’s happening, why can’t I move? You’re scaring me, Kishibe..” You whimpered out, trying to find some sort of handle on your fear, leaving Rohan only to sigh.

“Of course you wouldn’t understand this. Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. I just need some information, and the easiest way to get it is to read it right from you.” Rohan’s voice was cold and methodical, as if he were just telling you the ingredients of a cereal box. You tried to get a reign on your emotions, watching as Rohan read the papers from your face, writing down the information that he liked onto his notepad, before turning the page. He was interesting to watch like this. You imagined that this was probably the way that he was when he was working, his eyes intense and focused. It was a nice look for him, really. You supposed that you never really had the time to appreciate it, but Rohan really was quite pretty.

“You shouldn’t be thinking those things when it gets written down right before me.” Rohan pointed out, leaving you to sputter as your face turned red. If he was just bluffing, your face gave you away anyways.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! S-Stop being weird!” You tried to bite back, but Rohan just smiled a bit, leaning in a bit to read aloud from the pages.

“‘Rohan’s eyes seem so focused right now, I never noticed how pretty they were. Do you think he uses his own face as a base reference, the lighting right now is actually pretty incredible. If we weren’t like this, I might actually-”

“Alright, that’s enough of that, I think you’ve read enough now!” You replied, starting to get a bit antsy. Was he just going to read everything you thought of him, because if so… Uh oh. Big uh oh.

Sure, you had gotten over it by now, but there was a major problem. Namely, how you felt about Rohan on a personal level. When you were only a junior editor, you had developed a minor crush on the man, falling head over heels at the first glance you had of him. Sure, you were probably over it now, but at the time, it was bad. You never really pursued it, after all, you were supposed to be working together, but this… This was about to get really embarrassing.

But your frantic nature regarding your own life story seemed to only egg Rohan on more, determined to read as many pages as he could. So, he flipped through, apparently skimming for his own name, before he finally landed on something. You could tell it was something juicy, reading before his smile seemed to fall and his eyes widened.

“I… I see. I didn’t know.” Rohan told you, leaning back for a moment and thinking. You averted your eyes, trying to come up with something to say in response. When you finally collected your thoughts and opened your mouth to say something though, Rohan just smiled, grabbing his pencil and instead moving to the page. “Well, we can always make adjustments here, just to see what would happen. Think of it as… Playing out a scenario.” Rohan replied, but as the pencil started to come closer to your face, you couldn’t help but snap.

“Rohan, you can’t just manipulate my emotions, it isn’t right!” You yelled, leaving Rohan to lean back, staring at you for a moment before crossing his arms, looking away as if pouting like a child.

“I thought you wanted to help me with my writing.” Oh, so he was pulling that card? You had had just about enough of whatever strange things were going on with Rohan for a lifetime, with him not even letting you process what was happening before jumping onto the next thing, working quickly and efficiently in a way that made your head spin. “You know… That was the first time you called me by my first time. I used to insist you did, but I eventually gave up. The first time was you yelling at me. Figures.” Rohan let out a bitter laugh, and you started to piece a few things together as he placed down his pencil, shaking his head a bit.

“W-Wait, Kishi-... Rohan. Just, pause for a minute. I think maybe we should… I don’t know, talk? About whatever the hell is going on right here and now?” You told him, only for Rohan to roll his eyes.

“If I tried to explain the concept of a stand to you, it would probably go over your head, and I’m not sure that it would even matter in the scheme of things, considering the-” Rohan started to go off, but you just stopped him, sighing a bit.

“Not about that. About… You. I can’t tell what’s going on in your head, and that hardly seems fair, since you know everything going on in mine. Tell me what’s going on. What’s really going on.” You tried to keep your voice cool and calm, looking over Rohan and even trying to smile just a bit. Rohan sighed, and looked at the ground, his nails digging into his palms.

“It’s stupid. I shouldn’t be thinking these things, feeling any of these things, I don’t know why they’re here and I can’t get rid of them. I shouldn’t have made you come all this way, I…” He drifted off, leaving you unsure of if he didn’t know what else to say or didn’t have the will to say it. Either way, it looked like it was up to you to save this situation. You took a deep breath, looking at Rohan intensely in hopes that it would make you look at least a little more serious.

“Rohan, make it so that I can move again, please.” Your voice was probably a little more demanding than you meant it to be, the please added more to make it seem like you were ordering him to do anything. Rohan froze up for a moment, before reaching in as closing the pages on your face. In an instant, it was like your entire body loosened up, and you looked at Rohan, just examining those eyes you found so beautiful. Rohan seemed so sheepish for his normal personality, starting to scoot off of you to give you a bit of space.

“I should let you go, I’m sure there’s some way I can get through all this. Maybe I’ll even try that reading idea of yours, if all else fails-” Oh, Rohan. You weren’t sure if he was trying to act more pathetic than he was feeling, or this was the truth, but you fell for it all the same. You sat up the best you could with him on top of you wrapping your arms around Rohan and pressing your lips against his. Was this impulsive and stupid? Oh, absolutely. But did Rohan’s lips feel warm against yours, melding together with you in a way that just felt right, like it was meant to always happen? Yes. Yes, of course.

And Rohan’s eyes widened, his nails digging into his palms as if to make sure this wasn’t a dream, that you weren’t some figment here to haunt him. But no, you were real, you were soft, and with that confirmation, Rohan let himself melt into the kiss, moving to wrap his arms around you, to just hold you for a moment. This may be his only chance, so he might as well take advantage of it. When you finally pulled away, Rohan almost felt bad, knowing that this moment might never come again, that this moment might have been out of pity instead of true affection, that everything would now officially be at an end. And yet, wheels started to turn in Rohan’s head as he turned away, his eyes widening.

“Oh… Now, that would be a perfect arc!” Rohan shot up from your lap, already pacing a bit and snatching up his notepad, making his way to the stairs while talking to himself. “If I take the positioning from the last chapter, we’re in the prime position to introduce a new character, so some sort of design correlating with the current theming shouldn’t be hard, if I take…” He started to go on, and you knew that in a moment or three, it was going to be impossible to pull him out of his haze. You couldn’t help but laugh. Well, at least you seemed to have solved the problem you had come here in the first place to solve.

“Well, I take it you have ideas for your next chapter. That’s good. I suppose then…” You looked around at the now cooled tea that Rohan had offered you, the awkwardness you had just induced into your relationship, and got the vibe that maybe it was time to leave. But as you gathered up your things, Rohan’s head up snapped to you, his train of thought broken.

“Hey, stay. I… I want to talk to you after I finish writing down a few things in my office. About… Us.” You noticed a light dusting of blush over his face, making your own face flush. Oh god, it was like your old crush was flaring up all over again. Lord have mercy. You looked at the ground, just nodding a bit and sitting back down.

“A-Alright. Come back quickly, okay? I… I’m glad that I could at least help you a little bit. I know I’m sort of useless as your editor, but still…” You laughed a bit to try and lighten the mood, but Rohan just shook his head.

“Oh, (Y/n). You always seem to help me. Even just seeing your face is all the help I need sometimes. I’ll be back soon. Feel free to grab what you want from the kitchen.” With that, Roha ran up the stairs to work on who knows what, leaving you alone to your thoughts, sitting in Rohan’s living room.

Leaving you to think about a kiss you probably never should’ve given, and the joy that it was most likely about to lead to.

#rohan kishibe/reader #rohan kishibe x reader #rohan/reader #rohan x reader #jjba x reader #jjba/reader #jjba imagines #writing #my writing #mine #sfw

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peeterparkr · 5 years ago

Text

limits of desire⤳t.h.||epilogue

Epilogue: Wallking down an aisle.

story summary: you met Tom a night he was trying to sleep with you, it didn’t work and you became best of friends. Wedding bells might be ringing for when you both realize what you really feel.

summary: the one with the wedding and the magazine article

pairing: fuckboy!tom holland x best friend!reader

warnings: hmm an article, swearing, julia roberts, fluff :)

word count: 5.K

previous chapter series masterlist Here’s my new story! Perfidy (enemies to lovers) a one shot after this: Tom’s proposal

Anyway, thanks for sticking up to this story, for giving it a chance and for the support. I’m super sad it’s ending but I’m glad you guys stuck asdlas love you.

Your wedding day, according to movies and books, is the best day of your life. The bride is blushing and glowing and everything goes perfect. But, that is usually not the case, not in real life, at least. Because you’ll see shoes flying and people screaming and running around a room. People rushing in with the bride and calling the groom.

Lizzie was staring at the clock in her phone, she was calling everyone, y/n was nowhere to be found and she needed her friend. There were a lot of things to do, and y/n had promised to be there at 7 am sharp.

It was a good thing Lizzie had not made a mistake in choosing Mexico as the location, knowing it meant a lot of drama involved with y/n, but there could’ve been a reason behind it. Where things had ended for y/n happened to be the place where it had started for Lizzie.

Lizzie was, in all matters, freaking out. Her mother and sisters were overwhelming her with questions and picking her hair and running around her room. But none of them mattered, she needed her very best friend. But she thought that maybe y/n wasn’t feeling her best. Lizzie thought about this, was y/n having a breakdown over this?

She thought that maybe y/n wasn’t exactly fine with weddings. Sure, she’d been writing about this for a while now, but it wasn’t the same writing about it than living on it.

But this was Lizzie’s big day, she couldn’t possibly be bothered by it, should she? But she wanted her best friend to be along with her.

Lizzie was getting married.

It was 8 am, where the hell was she? That’s all Lizzie could think about. And she wasn’t the only one who was late, Hannah and Jess were late too. Great friends Lizzie had.

But Lizzie, she hadn’t told anyone, was having second thoughts. She was too nervous for this. Because the stylist wasn’t there yet, her bridesmaids’ dresses had arrived in a different colour, red, not pink. Red. And because the venue had called her wedding planner and told her there had been an issue with the salmon and now they were serving chicken.

Everything was going bollocks.

Lizzie was having an attack, but it seemed like her prayers had come true because Hannah and Jess had walked in, with their dresses in their hands and makeup bags.

“I’m sorry we’re late!” Hannah said. “Y/N’s new article was published!” Hannah waved the magazine in her hand.

Lizzie blinked and frowned. “What?”

Jess nudged Hannah. “Sorry, no, that’s not why we’re late. We went to pick up the dresses”

Hannah widened her eyes and left the magazine on the bed.

“Where the hell is y/n?” Asked Lizzie. “I can’t seem to reach her, it sends me to fucking voicemail!”

Jess and Hannah side-eyed each other.

“Didn’t you see her insta story?” Hannah asked and Jess nudged her again.

“What? No! I’ve been kinda busy! Where the hell is she?” Asked Lizzie. “Gosh I need her, she’ll be able to calm me down! Did she… Did she run away? Some shit like that?”

“No! No, but last night-” Hannah started

“Shut up!” Jess glared at Hannah. “She’ll be here, don’t worry,” Jess assured her. “She went to look for another stylist because we were told Jamie hadn’t arrived yet.”

Lizzie stood up. “Alright.” They all watched her. “Alright.” Lizzie took a deep breath. “I can’t do this.”

“What?” Lizzie’s mother questioned.

“Call Harrison, I can’t do this.”

“No, no,” Hannah walked over as Lizzie’s sisters were also trying to calm her down.

“It’s okay, Lizzie, you’re just stressed out, it’ll be okay,” Jess started.

“Everyone, please just leave, I need a moment to myself,” Lizzie explained.

“C’mon, Liz!” Hannah insisted.

The wedding planner stepped in. “No, no, she’s right, give her some time, everyone out,” she ordered and the room that was once full of bustle was now too quiet.

Lizzie plopped on her bed, and snuggled into her white rob and then stared at the dress. Was she able to do this?

She felt butterflies and knives at the same time. She was unsafe. She needed to talk to y/n, who had been there all along. Y/N had been the perfect maid of honour, even if Lizzie had initially been reluctant after complaining about Y/N choosing Tom over her on her first wedding.

Lizzie knew hadn’t really talked about how it felt to be about to get married, partly, Lizzie knew, it had to do a little bit with the fact that y/n wanted to marry her maid of honour instead. It came with the territory.

But Lizzie was having second thoughts because she did want to get married but it seemed like the universe was telling her not to. The salmon? The stylist? It had to mean something. Because she had planned this wedding perfectly. If there was something going wrong, it meant her marriage was going to go wrong, right?

She tried ringing her friend again and it sent straight to voicemail. She went on Instagram to see if Y/N’s story could solve anything. There was no new Instagram story, not for her close friends, and no new one. Had y/n blocked her? Was y/n having a crisis due to the wedding?

Maybe asking y/n to be her maid of honour hadn’t been the best idea, after all y/n used to call herself the runaway bride and Lizzie was sure that Y/N probably didn’t want to do anything else with weddings. Even if she wrote a wedding column in a magazine.

She knew that today was supposedly a very important day for y/n’s column on the magazine, apparently, y/n was now going to be promoted as to one of the usuals and not only a dumb column. An editor, maybe? Lizzie didn’t know, her head had been too busy planning a wedding that she hadn’t really paid attention to her best friend.

She stared at the magazine that Hannah had left there, lying on top of the white blanket. Lizzie frowned, did she have to read her best friend’s column?

She sighed, she did. It was the closest thing to having her best friend beside her. She opened the magazine to a beautiful shot of her best friend wearing a wedding dress with running shoes, surrounded by some DVDs and cassettes of old Julia Roberts’ movies.

The Runaway Bride, the title was in a big, elegant pink font. It wasn’t like her usual columns, small and with barely a page of it. This was a long article. Lizzie smiled, proud of y/n and then proceeded to read it.

Tom knew that Haz himself had had his doubts too if he was honest to himself. Harrison was freaking out and he knew that there was a big chance that Lizzie had wanted to back up. Tom had been the one to calm him down.

“It’s gonna be okay!”

“What do you know?” Haz had snapped. “First, thanks for being bloody late. Why were you late?”

Tom cleared his throat. “There was a problem with your bride’s stylist and I helped y/n to find a new one.”

“Because they have to do everything together now, remember?” Sam teased, making Tuwaine and Harry giggle.

“Shut up,” Tom blushed but then coughed away his embarrassment.

“And why did you leave early yesterday?” Haz questioned.

Tuwaine and the twins widened their eyes, Tom hadn’t told him yet.

“Uh, I had… a stomach ache,” Tom lied. “No, but Haz, calm down. It’s gonna turn out smoothly.”

“You’re one to talk! You ruined one wedding man, what if some ex of her decides to fucking show up and bloody tell her he loves her?”

“In that case,” Harry laughed. “Y/N would walk in and ruin the wedding, she’s the maid of honour.”

“You’re not helping, dickhead,” Tom told his brother off. “Haz, look, you have to calm down, everything will be alright. This is great, she loves you, alright? And I barely doubt anyone would come back for Lizzie, no, no no, I’m joking, I’m joking.”

Harrison rolled his eyes.

“Look, that stuff doesn’t usually happen, that one time happened because the bride was marrying someone who she didn’t love, and Lizzie loves you, right?” Tom pushed.

“Right, right, but fuck, I’m so bloody nervous!” Haz had his tie around his neck and he was trying to get it right.

“Calm down, dumbass,” Tom laughed as he helped Harrison with his tie. “Everything will be alright.”

“Yeah man, it’ll be okay.”

“I mean, you are marrying Lizzie, not sure how that’s gonna go but,” Tom teased, earning Haz’s middle finger. “I’m joking,” he laughed. “C’mon, c’mon.”

“Dude, everything has gone wrong,” Haz explained. “Something about the salmon and the dresses! And gosh, we’ve been planning this wedding for months and things are tearing up.”

Tom bit his lip. “Okay, I know, I know… I make everything about y/n but.”

“Oh god, don’t start,” Harry rolled his eyes.

“Look,” Tom ran to his bag and took out a magazine. “Maybe… read this, maybe it’ll help you.”

“How in the bloody hell is reading a fashion magazine going to help me?” Haz questioned.

“Read it.”

And so the bride and the groom were synchronized, reading a fashion magazine.

The Runaway Bride.

By Y/N Y/L/N

I guess by now, you’ve been reading me for a while, and the world, I hope, has forgotten who I initially was. Maybe you know me as the girl who’s been giving you advice on wedding dresses, on venues and on cakes.

That’s not who I was before all of this. Maybe you knew about my name before I started writing that column here.

After the world took a turn on me, I decided to instead turn it around for me. Maybe the person who was meant to read this will actually read this and clear her doubts, I know you have them. Maybe you’ll smile. Maybe you won’t. Maybe this is my way of clearing your doubts, after all, I am your friend.

There’s not much I can say about me, my name is Y/N, I am an invisible journalist who initially wanted to talk about everyone and everything else and now I’m here writing about myself. I can’t say much about me, I guess. I like my tea with lemon and honey, and I also like it with sugar and cream. Depends on my mood, but I usually prefer iced coffee or a pink mimosa. I love poetry, and I wish I could share a dessert with someone right now,

I am a girl with layers. I do have a story, though.

When I was young I remembered watching all Julia Roberts movies and aspiring to be like her. Don’t tell my mum, but I watched Pretty Woman at a very young age, even if I didn’t quite understand it if I’m honest. But I remember standing up and digging into my mum’s closet to wear some heels, a white coat and a hat to walk down her room to the beat of that infamous song, after that amazing scene.

“Big Mistake, Huge!” I would yell at the same time as Julia. It was a Cinderella for grown-ups type of story. I didn’t quite understand what Vivian's job was, but I understood that she had to kiss Richard Gere and I was fine with that.

I want that to be my job if I’m honest. Can you blame me?

Anyone who knows me, knows I love all Julia Roberts’ movies. Little would I know how much like Julia Roberts’ films my life would turn out to be?

I would like to pride myself on that I’ll become a successful writer like she was on Eat, pray, love.

However, my dream didn’t quite exactly come as I had planned it. Be careful of what you wish, I guess. So far I haven’t found myself moving to Italy to understand the power and pleasure of nourishment, neither have I gone to India to pray and so far I haven’t gone to Indonesia to find my true love.

I did go to Mexico however, and found pleasure in their food. I have gone to my mother’s house and she’s made me pray, and I’ve been to London, and honestly I think this city is truly the love of my life.

Maybe I’m lying. I have met true love, but I guess it’s not the time to talk about it. We will move on to that later.

But I guess I can’t really write a memoir on that, or should I? However, I guess I’ll have to tell my side of the story, don’t you think?

My life did turn into a Julia Roberts’ movie. Not in the ones I thought

It started with a dress, as red as Julia’s in Pretty Woman, a dress and someone helping me with a necklace. I guess by now, my name rings some stories and even though the stories are inverted, and I really feel like I shouldn’t be writing this, this was an open spot for me to speak my mind, to crawl out of my little corner where I liked to be invisible. In my constant pursuit of Julia Roberts’ life, I found myself in a very weird predicament.

I would love to think about it like that scene where he placed that gorgeous necklace around her bare neck, and it kind of stuck. Though, that scene led to a round of unfortunate events.

I fell in love, and though it doesn’t sound as a tragedy, it certainly involved into one, because I fell in love and then proceeded to get engaged… with another man.

It all continued, if I think about it, as “My Best Friend’s Wedding.” Though it sounds cheesy and different. And in no way was my ex-fiancée as Cameron Diaz. At least I don’t want to think that, I didn’t like Cameron in that movie, and I very much liked my ex-fiancé, too much for my own convenience. It’s not a sin, and I hope he’s doing amazing. I still love him.

I’m afraid I didn’t play Julia Roberts’ in that part. My best friend did, however, and I happened to be very in love with my best friend. Note to whoever is reading this: if you happen to be in love with your best friend, don’t make them your maid of honor.

Or do, and do yourself a favor, don’t let it be too late. If you love someone, tell them. If you love someone, don’t get engaged to someone else.

I guess that gives context to me.

If you were to take a few minutes to google me, I know my name is dragged with headlines which are not so pleasant to read. But hopefully, now I can be seen besides the many articles I’ve written. But a few months ago, I was painted as the bad one.

So, instead of rolling along, I decided, instead, to rename myself as yet another one of Julia’s characters. After all, that’s all I wanted to be.

“The Runaway Bride.” Sounds catchy.

Have control of my own life for once.

Because I did run away. And even if I think I should be giving no explanation to the world, I guess maybe I could use this chance to guide another person who lost herself along the way, too. Maybe you’ll find yourself reading this and understanding my words. You’re probably wondering why a runaway bride has been giving you advice on how to choose your jewels, or how to get your face prepped for your big day. Seems like a hypocrite, but I feel like someone who still believes in weddings even after running away from one, has something to say.

I’ve always been the perfect daughter, I’ve tried to, at least. I had perfect grades, got home early and didn’t cause much trouble. That was until I graduated, for sure. I’ve always done what everyone told me to do and I followed the path everyone expected me to follow.

My biggest sin has been falling in love with terrible timing, I’ve loved when I didn’t have to and I didn’t when I had to.

Timing really, that’s my biggest sin.

Most of my life I’ve known when to say no, and when to say yes. But it came to a point when saying those words would change me.

Both words have betrayed me and I am not proud of it. The first time it betrayed me was when someone got down on one knee, and even though I knew in my heart there was an indecisive voice inside, a yes came clear through my mouth.

Don’t get me wrong, at the time, I did mean it. Who would’ve thought that a simple word gave me such a nightmare?

I know, I know, why are they including me in the wedding section if I ran away from my own wedding? It sounds ironic, I was even skeptical when they asked me to.

Because even if it’s late to admit it, I may have not yet married anyone as of right now when I’m writing this, maybe someday it’ll be different. But I do know what love feels like. And I know what it doesn’t feel like.

And maybe you’ve read the articles and realized it, every advice I give you relies on something: It won’t matter in the end, because you’ll see them as you walk down the aisle, and everything will turn to be better.

Because saying “yes” should never bring in guilt. Probably, like most people, if you said yes, then you were sure of it and I truly hope you didn’t say “yes” just for the reason I now know I did. You shouldn’t say yes because you want to be loved, you should say yes because you want to love.

I’m a monster, I know. But I’ve learned a thing or two.

Someone once told me to picture my wedding. And I know, most of us have planned it since our childhood, some have pictured it perfectly, from the flowers to the band, some just know they want a big cake, or some only have been hovering through Pinterest boards. That’s alright.

But when the moment comes, it won’t matter. In the end, you won’t remember if the cutlery was gold or silver.

When you’re planning a wedding you see yourself through the different stages, there is a checklist that should be ticked, and time will rush to it. Everyone rushes you into thinking it should be perfect.

I even had a checklist and I would try to tick off every single box of it because it had to be perfect. But looking at it now, each and every one of those led to the disaster of me turning into Julia Roberts’ character and running the heck out of my wedding.

Because I gave myself such little time to understand that what I wanted was to be with someone else, and I shouldn’t have invited that said person to the wedding.

Let me tell you something, I had always wanted a certain wedding, I knew the theme, I wanted the flowers, the perfect venue. And I fell in love with an amazing wedding dress, everything was planned.

But someone told me that, in the end, it wouldn’t matter, because let me tell you something, I am very sure that when the right person comes, it won’t.

And they told me that what could go wrong would go wrong, but it wouldn’t matter as long as the love of my life was at the end of the aisle.

In my case, it did, everything went wrong. The flowers had been changed, the day before they’d told me the menu we had chosen was changed, too. My hair looked awful, I was not wearing the white dress I had chosen, and it wouldn’t have mattered. But it did, because my whole wedding was meant to be a disaster. Because they were small details, and they shouldn’t have mattered.

And trust me, at a point they didn’t.

I was walking down the aisle to commit the biggest mistake of my life. And if the love of my life hadn’t interrupted my wedding, I would have become Julia Roberts on Eat Pray Love. A sad wife.

But I knew that had it been the one who interrupted the wedding the one I was getting married to, it wouldn’t have mattered, I could’ve had paper rings, I could’ve had the ugliest of flowers, or no flowers at all, and I wouldn’t have cared, because he would’ve been at the end of the aisle.

Because that’s love. And right now as I turn around to the love of my life who is listening to his music and drinking a beer, I know it. I don’t need a checklist, I could marry him right now, wearing our pj’s and using ring pops. Yes, the actual candy. Because what matters is I want to spend the rest of my life with him, discovering his good and bad sides.

But to know this, I had to run away. And I’m not telling you to run away. But sometimes we have to be away from someone to realize they’re a part of us. Maybe you took the time to google me, or maybe you didn’t so I’ll give you a quick summary.

My best friend, and love fo my life stopped my wedding, I rejected him and then I ran away from the altar.

And maybe, you’re thinking, why not go with the love of your life?

Because I wasn’t ready. And I realized that one doesn’t have to choose. One shouldn’t have to choose.

So I chose myself. And saying goodbye to the love of my life wasn’t easy, you know?

It’s delicate, and my reputation could jeopardize his. That’s love you know? Knowing that sometimes you have to choose yourself and that sometimes you should make decisions so you don’t hurt them. But at some point you have to look up.

And I can’t stress this enough, if you don’t know yourself and you don’t know what you want, you can’t expect your significant other to know it, either.

But before I ran away, I had to make it clear that I wanted to come back to him. Which brings me to the next Julia Roberts movie, which is kind of stupid, I know. Notting Hill, then again, I wasn’t Julia in the situation. I gave away all my secrets, from someone who never liked to speak up, I had to.

Yes, like Hugh Grant did, I crashed a press conference and I confessed my love to him. Then we went our separate ways. At that point, I just saw how the whole world turned gray.

I thought to myself: ‘Is it too stupid? Maybe I regret it.’ And I just thought about it, an address I don’t want to remember, a city far away from home. A hotel that perfectly mirrors it. A time when saying no meant keeping secrets. And honestly, right now, I don’t mind having no secrets anymore, I am waiting to give them all away, when he’s ready, when I’m ready. Because now there are no limits I can think of.

And I changed, from wanting the perfect wedding, with every single detail the way I wanted it to, to the wedding that could be held in his living room. From wanting 300 hundred guests to being the two of us.

So here’s my advice to you, whoever you may be. Find a story, dream of something. Don’t get a boring life, go and try to find someone who’d understand you’d have to choose yourself first. Fall in love with yourself first and the wedding will follow along, and love, love without any inconvenience. Don’t be afraid to love, don’t hide away, don’t try to keep all your secrets. And make that checklist, and then do it for yourself, set your date, when you’re ready. Make that guest list so you have everyone you care and love, get the perfect place, the perfect food, and plan the most fun of the honeymoons.

But before anything else, find yourself and let the person you’re marrying find you, delicately, like a poem, let them read you. Because when you do this, when both of you choose yourselves and each other, nothing else matters, it’s just the strawberries decorating the care. And everything will turn out to be easy, even if love isn’t, the path will be opened and the limits of desire will finally go away.

And when you love someone, you’ll realize it, paper rings are enough. Because when your love is so strong, it won’t matter if they changed the cake, or if your bridesmaids’ dresses weren’t the colour you asked.

Maybe I don’t have the best experience, maybe my advice sucks, but I hope we can get along this journey. And I’ll be joining you in your path, help you out to stay away from the path of becoming the runaway bride like me. Helping you along the way to understand what love should feel like, helping you out to stay away from the mistakes I made. Helping you choose yourself so you can be ready to walk down an aisle. Helping you out to be the Julia Roberts you choose to be, not the one the world made you. Maybe I’ll find myself along the way, too, and maybe I’ll be ready to do it, too.

I know that by the time this comes out, I’ll be helping my friend with her wedding dress, and I know that she’ll be the happiest she could be. And with all my heart, I wish her the perfect wedding, paper or gold rings, I know she’s walking down an aisle to the love of her life. And I couldn’t be happier for her.

We’ll see how this goes.

Yours, truly,

The Runaway Bride

---

Being at the end of the aisle gives you a perspective. Maybe Tom was not the one who was at the actual end, but it felt weird. Especially considering what had happened just the night before, a secret he had to yet keep to himself.

He knew Harrison was sweating. And he knew that probably Harrison would feel even more butterflies than Tom, but the music started to play, the moment had come in, everyone turned around to look at how the bridesmaids were walking down the aisle led by y/n, Tom lost it. It felt good, it felt like magic. And the moment his eyes met hers he knew that he’d never regret the decision he’d made. And she looked at him like she was feeling the same thing, as if time had stopped for her as well, as if the music was for them and only them. As if she was whispering their secret, and he looked down at her hand, and smiled.

He saw the red dress, and he knew that for once, he’d chosen the right girl, who was wearing the wrong dress. And Tom had to stop himself, even if he desired to kiss her, he knew he’d have to stop. But she walked to the end of the aisle and was across from him.

Then, everything stopped as the bride was walking in, she looked perfect, with the veil cascading down and her eyes as bright as they could be. But Tom couldn’t look at her, he was too busy admiring y/n. And maybe it was a coincidence but she turned around and locked eyes with him, and he could see how she ran out of breath as she dedicated a smile to him, one that was made for him and only him. He felt his heart stop because they were speaking with their eyes, and he knew what she meant. He felt it too. And everyone was focusing on the bride but they could only look at each other, maybe it was selfish, maybe it wasn’t. Maybe the love around them was inspiring them.

‘I love you,’ they had mouthed to each other.

And Tom knew it, that their little secret was just a secret. Because this wasn’t their day, and they didn’t mind it wasn’t. But he knew that even if nobody had noticed the ring on y/n’s hand, it could’ve been made out of paper, and that if they had to set the date, they’d do,it the very next date, with only them as the guests and barely any theme. They didn’t need any flowers or any fancy venue, they didn’t need to mail the save the dates or hire a vendor. They could marry in their underwear, and they didn’t need to book a honeymoon and she needed no bridal shower, and the menu could be a chocolate cake and a strawberry cheesecake. Her something new could be a mere bracelet, and her something borrowed, old and blue could be a blue shirt of his. Their bridesmaids and the best man could be some random toys. But it wouldn’t matter, because they’d be tying the knot, and it wouldn’t matter because their vows would be perfect, and she’d finally say I do. And that was the only thing that mattered, that they’d be together.

Because that night, while they were dancing, Tom had chosen the right red dress. Because love is easy when the right person comes. Yes, they had their loads of difficulties, but it seemed that whenever they were together, everything just stopped, everything else was ordinary, everything was easy. They made mistakes, but everybody does.

Maybe Tom was not that prince charming to arrive on a white horse, and maybe y/n was not a princess either. Maybe they’ve been wrong this whole time, but they don’t want to hide anymore, because Tom may have tried to get in bed with the wrong girl years ago, but she turned out to be the right one. And y/n used to think that Tom had eyes for everyone for her, but whenever she was in the room, everything else disappeared. And yes, they had to run away to realize they’d run back into each other. Because maybe they’ve crossed the limits of desire, but maybe, they should’ve always been crossed.

The end.

aldsajkd it’s done bye i’m sad it’s over bye

previous chapter series masterlist Here’s my new story! Perfidy (enemies to lovers) one shot: Tom’s proposal

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duhragonball · 3 years ago

Text

Dragon Ball Super: Super Hero

youtube

I guess I should provide my hottt takes on the new DBS movie. A few days ago, they did this video for Comic Con announcing the title of the movie and teasing some details about the story.

I gotta say, this is exactly why I’ve never had any interest in Comic Con. They put this on YouTube, I guess because of the pandemic, but any other year they would have gathered an enormous crowd and made them stand in line for hours to watch all of this in person. I live in the Midwest, and when I went to comic book conventions it was for the sole purpose of rummaging through back issue bins. SDCC was always promoted like the biggest and most important convention in the U.S., but all I ever heard about it were trailers for movies and TV shows. Or, like, you had to go to Comic Con because that was the only way to get an exclusive Orange Lantern Hal Jordan action figure or something. They would always hype up all of this useless stuff and I just never heard of anything so important that I was willing to fly out to San Diego and stand in line for three hours for it. So now SDCC peels back the curtain with this video, about something I’m fairly interested in, but it’s really not that big a deal. I found out most of the information on Twitter before I even knew to watch this video.

But I’m just not that hyped about trailers or sneak peaks or sneak peaks at trailers. Which is probably why I waited this long to talk about it.

I’ll just go through the video. The first four minutes are Hironobu Kageyama performing “Cha La HEAD Cha La” live on the stage. That’s a pretty epic way to open this, but I feel like it oversells the importance of this event. You finish watching him and you think you’re about to see the movie itself, instead of hearing from the people who made it.

Next we have Sascha, the host of this panel. He speaks better English than I do, but I’m not sure what the point was in having any of this in English since he has to talk to the guests in Japanese. Pretty much all of the important information in this video is in Japanese, and I think everyone understood that going in. I guess it does give an international feel. If I spoke another language as fluently as Sascha, I’d want to show it off too.

4:56 is where Masako Nozawa comes out, and she’s just a joy to watch. She looks like this sweet grandmotherly figure, all warm smiles and then she busts out “Ossu! Ora Goku!” and immediately sounds like a badass.

Guest #2 is Akio Iyoku, Toriyama’s editor. Not to be confused with the awesome editor who poo-pooed all the androids and Cell’s semiperfect form. That was Yu Kondo. Iyoku comes out dressed like Goku, but he can’t talk like him so he’s immediately second-tier.

Guest #3 is Norohiro Hayashida, Producer from Toei Anaimation. He is also rocking the Goku cosplay, which would be a faux pas in most fandoms, but he can just say that he’s cosplaying as Krillin or Yamcha, which gives him greater nerd credibility because those are more obscure references.

Around 8:30 we really start getting into this, and they show us a model sheet of Piccolo. Is Piccolo being in the new movie a big surprise? He had a dry spell in the mid-90s, but he’s been in every Dragon Ball movie made in this century so far. And it’s not like they changed his look, like when they put Goku and Vegeta in those adorable coats last time. I’m not complaining about any of this. It’s nice to see that a) Piccolo is confirmed for new movie and b) they didn’t tinker with his appearance.

All I’m saying is that they only brought up this model sheet to show off how they’re using his color scheme from the manga as opposed to the anime. Hence the red belt and the yellower arm sections. In the anime, the belt was always blue, and his biceps were hot pink instead of off-yellow. But it’s such a subtle thing that even Sascha didn’t pick up on it. It’s like they were hyping up the fact that it’s such a minor change. I like it, don’t get me wrong, but it’s a weird flex. Also, he looks like he still has his five-fingered anime hands, so I’m not that impressed. Give us four fingers, Toei!

Sascha asks Masako Nozawa what she thinks about Piccolo and she just starts off with “He was Gohan’s teacher,” and talks about how strong and cool he looks. She speaks of him like he’s a family member, because she’s awesome.

Next up, we have Pan, and now we’re talking. The scuttlebutt is that this was the character Toriyama was referring to when he spoke of an “unexpected character”. And I guess Pan fits the bill, since I don’t think anyone expected her to be this old in the movie. I understand this is her kindergarten uniform, so she’d have to be about five or six years old. I love Masako Nozawa’s reaction here. Throughout this video, you can see that Goku and Gohan aren’t just roles to her.

I’ll put on my fanboy hat here and point out that Pan’s age may imply that this movie takes place after the final episode of Dragon Ball Z. She looks older here than she did when she fought Wild Tiger, at any rate. So far, the entire Dragon Ball Super franchise has been set during the ten-year gap between the Buu crisis and the finale of Z. So everyone has been wondering if DBS would move beyond End of Z, or whether Akira Toriyama even still recognizes the continuity of those final chapters. They were supposed to be ten years of peace, but all the battles in DBS say otherwise. Also, I’m pretty sure Pan and Bulla’s ages in the DBZ finale don’t line up well with their appearances in Super, but I’ve never studied it very closely.

So this might be set post End of Z, or this might be Toriyama retconning End of Z altogether. I’m interested to see which way this goes.

Here’s Krillin, still working for the police, although his uniform looks more like Bronze Age Lex Luthor than anything else. Like Piccolo, the “big” story here is that he’s been tweaked to resemble the coloring in the manga, so his sclera are now white instead of fleshtoned.

Never mind that, here’s Piccolo’s house. This is probably the breakout star of this video, because I think everybody is excited to see Piccolo’s house. Because it’s new lore! No one even knew if he had one or not. It was a running gag in DBZ Abridged that he was homeless. I mean, congratulations to Krillin for getting his eyes colored in right, but that doesn’t tell me anything new about the character. But Piccolo’s house is a big friggin’ deal. What’s inside of there? What’s on the second floor? Check out his mailbox. What kind of mail does he get? It’s exciting.

Nozawa even points out that she and her co-workers would talk about this sort of thing in the recording studio. That’s a big deal to me, that the voice actors think about the same kind of stuff that I do as a fan.

Around 15:30, they start talking about Toriyama’s commitment to the making of this movie, which seems like a weird thing to focus on, because he wrote the screenplay to the last two movies. Did anyone think he was stepping back? I get the impression that there’s still some hard feelings about the failure of Dragon Ball Evolution, in the sense that they want to reassure everyone that we’re still in good hands. I suppose one of these days, Toriyama won’t be as heavily involved in a project like this, so maybe it makes sense for Toei and Shueisha to make it clear that today is not that day.

On the other hand, Toriyama was just as involved with Broly as he was with Resurrection F, and Broly was a much better film. The Dragon Ball Super manga seems to have revived the old argument over who’s to blame when the story is a letdown, and I think that misses the point. Look, the Zamasu arc sucked, and I don’t care who wrote what parts, or whether Toriyama had a bad idea or whether he handed a good idea off that was badly executed. They can hash that out behind the scenes if they want to.

About 19 minutes in, they show us this model sheet, and refuse to explain who these guys are or what they’re doing in the movie. Are they villains? Who knows? I’d like to think they’re important characters to the story, but I have my doubts that Krillin will have a big part to play.

At 20 minutes, they announce the title of the movie, and I’m not very thrilled with “Dragon Ball Super: Super Hero.” They can talk it up as much as they want, and maybe the title is relevant to the plot, but it’s just too many uses of the word “super”. Especially when they’ve got another series called “Super Dragon Ball Heroes” on YouTube.

Then we get this teaser trailer, or whatever you want to call it, with a CG Goku hopping around and doing his classic fighting pose. Now, for some reason, lots of people concluded that this means the entire movie will be done in this CG style, which has led to a debate over whether or not that’s a good thing. If they can make the whole movie look this slick, then I’m fine with it. Hell, I’m not picky. They could animate the whole thing in Yukio Ebisawa style, and I’d be thrilled.

But I’m not understanding where people got the idea that it’s definitely going to be a 100% CGI movie. They never spell that out in this video, and they even go out of their way to admit that this shot of Goku isn’t actually from the movie. So is there some other source people are referring to, or did everyone just jump to conclusions?

And that’s pretty much it. I don’t mean to sound negative on this panel, but I don’t feel like they revealed very much, unless this is actually going to turn out to be Piccolo and Pan having an adventure by themselves. I think Toei could make a movie like that and it would be a success, but I have my doubts that they’d go in that direction. If this is going to turn out to be another big slugfest with Vegeta, then I’m down for that too, but don’t show me Piccolo’s house if the movie’s going to be about Vegeta punching a guy.

Bottom line: I’m still looking forward to this, but I don’t feel like I know much more about the movie than I did before. Well, except for the part about Piccolo’s house. I’m looking forward to seeing the inside of it.

#dragon ball #dragon ball super super heroes #piccolo #pan #krillin #goku

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jojolu · 4 years ago

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Six Months in Boston

Pairing: Chris Evans/OC Erin Rose

Summary: Up and coming YA author Erin Rose, was sent to a small suburb 30 minutes Northwest of Boston to finish the last two books of her series, she is about to get very close to her very handsome new neighbor.

a/n: here goes nothing!

chapter 1: Enjoy Nature

"Oh my God! Just poop already Letty!" You shout at your Chihuahua Dachshund mix breed dog. She finally does and you pick it up and tie the bag.

You are walking on a new path the realtor showed you on a map. Your phone rings and it's your sister Tilly FaceTime'ing you.

"Hey girl......where the fuck are you? Are you exercising?"

"Ugh gross! Never. Just exploring, Mike the realtor was saying there are 30 beautiful walking paths all around! Enjoy nature....that fucking tool."

"Where exactly are you? In case I need to come and find your body in the woods."

"In a small suburb, its technically the country! I'm thirty minutes northwest of Boston. My editor sent me to Boston. MASSACHUSETTS!! LIKE WHO AUTHORIZED THIS. For a year Till! I'm a hard core West coast kid! Born and raised near the ghetto."

"Pasadena, is nowhere near the ghetto. Its your fault, your way to good of a writer. Your first book shouldn't have been so good. Like bitch, you already have studios fighting for the movie rights."

You wrote, The Wish Masters, your senior year in Grad school on a whim. Your professor wanted you all to write 1 chapter of a book and you wrote 15, when you turned it, she called you into her office the following Monday. 6 years later on your 35th birthday it was released.

It bit of Harry Potter mixed in with Tinkerbell. All the Fairy families are separated by the type of groups and your story starts when the age of fairies start to die off. Deenah and her friends Mave and Trax are off on a journey to fix and restore the age of Fairies.

"Yeah, yeah. Oh no there a dog loose." You see a brown and white dog with a red collar and leash dragging behind him.

"Let me see!" Tilly says.

You flip the camera and stick your phone in your sportsbra.

You call him over and read his tag.

"Hey Dodger, gosh are a pretty dog. Letty, this is Dodger, Dodger, this wild animal is Letty girl."

You pick up his leash and continue walking the way Dodger came from.

"You fucking weirdo. That dog looks familiar. What's his name?"

"Familiar? Are you an Instagram dog, D man?" You say leaning closer to Dodger.

"Holy fucking shit! That's Chris Evans dog. I bet my fucking life on it."

"Seriously? Please God, don't let this be his dog. I'm not ready!"

You hear a man's voice calling out Dodger's name.

"Oh no......"

The person you see, isn't Chris Evans but his younger brother, Scott.

"That's Scott his brother!" Tilly says.

"I know.....Shhhh."

"Dodger! Hey man, you scared us." Scott says walking up to you.

"He just walked up to us." You say handing him the leash.

"Thank you! Chris would have KILLED me! I got him." He says as he yells back to the sound of a person walking up behind you.

You look past him and see Chris Evans.

Your mind goes blank.

"Hi I'm Tilly!" You sister says from your boobs.

"Hi, mystery voice coming from this nice lady's boobs. " Scott says.

"OH my God! It's my sister." You take your phone out of your sportsbra and turn it so he can see her.

She waves like a crazy person.

"Hi, Tilly. I'm Scott."

"Hi! This is my sister Erin Rose."

"I totally forgot to introduce myself."

"She's a writer she wrote The Wish Masters, Jimmy Fallon just had her on last week. She just sent the second and half of the third one to her editor, She there to write two more books, she'll be there a year and she lives at 347 Mills Rd and that's her dog Letty, we found her on a trip to Joshua Tree, four years ago."

"Stop talking or I'm going to hang up and block you." You say to the phone.

"Sorry....."

"Well, this is my brother Chris Evans, he is an actor, you know him from Not Another Teen Movie and Cellular. He's has lived here for about three years and he lives at 345 Mills Rd and that's his dog Dodger, who he got a shelter about three years ago."

You look at Chris who is shaking his head.

You mouth, "I'm so sorry."

He mouth,"No, I'm sorry."

You both smile at each other. You look away to where Dodger and Letty are laying down, Letty is laying on Dodger's legs licking him.

"Well, it looks like you two are neighbors." Scott says to you both.

"Right! That's awesome, she's very single." Tilly says as she hangs up.

"Oooh she's not getting invited to any of the movie premieres. I'm going go home. Come on Letty." You say pulling her leash.

She doesn't budge.

"To bad you only weigh eleven pounds." You say picking her up.

You turn to your left and then to your right.

Fuck!

Erin why are you so dumb!

You have no clue which direction your house is.

"Left." Chris says.

"Thank you." You say turning back left and walking away holding a dog that doesn't want to leave.

"She left her water bottle." Scott says.

"I'll take it to her later." Chris says picking it up.

"She's gorgeous......did you see her ass......damn." Scott says.

Chris just looks at him as he starts to walk away, Dodger turns and tries to follow the direction you left in.

"I did, and that's all I'm going to say."

"You going to save that image for your spank bank?"

"Spank bank? Seriously?"

"Sorry, I watched 10 Things I Hate About You last night. Great film. I know how long it's been, so don't act like you haven't already ready pictured her under you or on her knees."

"For fucks sake, Scott!? I just met her, technically we haven't really even met." Chris says walking away.

Scott laughs as he walks behind Chris.

"Fuck you, Scott! Now that's all I'm thinking about!" He yells as he starts to run.

You make it back in 10 minutes.

You were talking out loud the whole time.

"Really! Is this really fucking happening! Chris fucking Evans! Is this because I read that Chris Evans fanfic? Listen! I'm sorry! Well I'm not really! That's story was cute and he sounds great in bed. Speaking of bed! Am I supposed to act like I didn't see his dick? What a beautiful penis.....oh my God. We share a driveway....his house is what like sixty fucking feet from my house.......great now all I can think of his is dick! Did I save that on my phone?"

You were walking so fast and distracted you just realized you left your water bottle. You set it down when you picked up Dodger's leash.

"Dammit, I love that water bottle, let's go inside." You say to the dog that is sniffing all around Chris's side of the driveway.

You walk inside and Letty goes and gets in her kennel and gets under her blanket.

You take off your shoes and head to take a shower. Tilly calls right after you walk out of the shower.

"Can I help you?"

"Hi, I just spent the last 20 minutes Google'ing him. He's very much single. He loves to take Dodger out on walks, he's covered in tattoos, he enjoys working with his hands, he loves his family, is an ass man and he has a huge penis."

"I don't care. I'm not going to do anything with information. I'm here for one reason, to write these books. This is not a story someone is writing. I'm not going to fall in love with him, he isn't going to take me on long walks where we can't keep our hands off each other, our dogs aren't going to be best friends and constantly have to see each other, you and Scott aren't going to be best friend and have matching toasts at our beautiful Farmhouse wedding." You suddenly get choked up.

"Ohhhh Erin...I'm sorry. I just got excited." She says suddenly with emotion in her voice.

"Serves you right! Who said those acting classes wouldn't help me write better."

"You bitch! Just so you know he has a wide tongue, too." She hangs up.

Ugh, you just used the massage setting on your handheld shower head. Living next to him was going to kill you.

You get dressed, in a tank top dress that has a built-in bra and head out your pool. You hear laughing coming from your neighbor's house and fight the urge to look over.

"Erin!" You hear Chris yell.

"Please, have a shirt on...." You say before turning around.

"Hey, Chris."

Fuck him.

No, seriously.

Fuck this sexy ass bastard.

He of course, is in just black swim trunks walking closer to his the fence. There are all the tattoos Tilly said he had, she didn't mention the chest hair.....you just want you rub your hands all over his body.

This is the closet your houses are to each other.

"Did you get that?" Chris asks looking at you.

"Shit, sorry thinking about my...book." You stumbled out.

"I have your water bottle and I was thinking that I could say thank you for grabbing Dodger, by ordering us some lunch?"

"It was no hassle, he just walked right up to me. Sure, yes that would be great."

"You want to come over now? You can come swim with me....if you want. Can you....." He stops himself.

"Were you about to ask me, a black woman, if I can swim?" You say giving him tons of attitude.

He goes beet red.

"Uh no...I was just...you have your hair straight....so I....."

You start to laugh at him.

"I thought Mackie would have told you what not to ask a black woman, it's a weave, I'm taking out next week and getting braids. Yes, I can swim, I was actually a lifeguard all throughout high-school and college. I'll change and grab Letty."

You see the relief in his face.

Did you just fluster Chris Evans.....

You are thankful for your sister, she made you buy all new swimsuits with your cash advance money. You put on your Victoria's Secret ruffle bottom bikini, you got it in three colors, white, pink and green.

You put on the white one. Put your black sheer cover up.

You put your hair up in a messy bun and grabbed Letty.

"Listen, woman! You better act right! Do not pee on his floor!" You say to the dog who is very confused why she is getting a lecture.

You put her down and grab the gift basket you just got from Sam Adam's and the freezer box it came in. He isn't in the back yard any more so you walk to his front door and ring the door bell.

"Brace yourself Erin...." You mumble out.

You can hear Dodger barking and Chris telling him to calm down.

He opens the door and smiles at you.

"Welcome, here let me take that. Come in."

Thankfully he put a shirt on.

You follow him to his kitchen while looking in all of his rooms.

"Our houses are the exact same. Even down to the floors. Literally the exact same. You need to see it."

"I'd like that."

You both pause for a second.

Letty and Dodger playing is what broke the tension.

"Its Letty, right? From The Fast and The Furious."

"It is. Strangely, not many people get that."

"And Dodger, from Oliver and Company?"

"Yes, exactly. Most people think the baseball team."

"Why you have the Sox over here."

"Exactly. You want to head outside?"

"Lead the way."

He grabs the gift basket and walks towards his backyard.

"Did you buy this?"

"Nope, I mentioned them in an interview and I got this, just yesterday."

"Not going lie that probably my favorite thing about this whole crazy life."

"Same, dude! I swear, someone asked what pen I used and I said Paper-Mate and I had a special delivery the next day. I'm really looking forward to when these studios choose my book."

"Which studios?" He asks opening your gift basket.

"You're just gonna open MY gift basket?"

"I thought this was for me?" He says laughing.

"Why would I give you MY gift basket? I don't know you like that!" You say laughing too.

"Go ahead you already opened it. Paramount, Warner Brothers, Universal and Disney! I'm really excited about that one. They are thinking of my books as movies will start a new segment of Disney aimed at teenagers!" You practically shout.

"That's amazing and my heart is with Disney."

"Holy shit, I haven't told anyone that and wasn't supposed to........I figure you can keep a secret, Cap."

"You going to make me sign an NDA?" He says waaaaay to flirty.

He opens one of the beers and takes a long drink.

He licks his bottom lip.

"I could get one drafted up, if I need to. Can I have I one of MY beers, please?"

"Fine, but I get this hat." He says pulling a blue Sam Adam's hat out.

He hands you a beer and your hands touch. He doesn't let go, he grabs his bottle opener and opens for you.

"Thanks. Stop taking my stuff Christopher!"

"You don't want this hat or.....this beer coozie or.........these beer pretzels." He says taking all the things he mentioned.

"Give me those fucking pretzels."You say reaching for them.

"Come on, you don't want these." He opens the bag and takes a handful.

"Ohh you are not nice." You say standing up you take off your swim cover and walk up to him. Your breast are touching his chest and every time you inhale he looks down at your chest.

"Can I help you?" He says looking down at you.

"Chris, can I please, pretty please have those pretzels, I need something hard..and..salty in my mouth."You say with your hands on his chest.

He hands them to you without another word.

"Thanks, dude." You say grabbing them and sitting back down on his pool chaise.

"That was so mean! I'm still keeping this hat and coozie." He says looking over at you.

"Sure, but I'm keeping the corn hole set."

"You sure? I can take it off your hands."

You hear Letty barking at the backdoor.

Chris goes and let's them both put, they are chasing each other in circles, they finally sit he keeps messing with her and she keeps biting him then running away.

"Looks, like they found their best friend." Chris says.

"Yep. She's such an alpha. I'm surprised she letting him be so aggressive with her."

"Well, he definitely likes the challenge of a strong woman."

"She definitely likes the attention."

"He really likes to give it."

You weren't sure at what point you both stopped talking about the dogs but you needed to get in the pool to cool off.

"So we doing this or nah?"

"Huh?" The confusion on his face was priceless.

"Swimming? Or did you just asked me to get in a bikini for nothing."

He pulls off his shirt, finished his beer and walks to the pool, turns to face you, winks and does a perfect back flip.

"Oh you fancy." You get up and walk up to about 3 feet to his pool turn towards him do a cart wheel, that goes into a round off, which has you end right at the edge of his pool, then you do a backflip into the water.

"I give that a fucking ten." He says swimming up to you.

"Thank you. I'll give yours a 9.5 you lost a half point for trying to flirt with the judge."

"I should be given a whole extra point for that."

You splash him and swim away.

"Oooh now you started it." He dives down and pulls you under the water.

You poke him in the ribs and he let's go.

"Ouch!"

You swim up close to him.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to...."

He pulls you under again.

You pull him down too and start to have a contest to see who can stay under water longer. It's been 30 seconds and he is struggling. He groans and swims up.

He watches you as you flip into a handstand underwater and walk away from him, you come up 20 seconds later.

"Damn...."

"Sorry, lifeguard!"

"I normally have much better breath control." He says swimming closer to you.

"Oh really? You practice that?" You say smirking.

"Haven't needed to, come here."

You get closer and he reaches right under your eye takes the eyelash that had fallen.

"Make a wish." He says holding it up to your mouth.

You close your eyes and blow.

You open your eyes slowly and he is staring at you.

You throw caution to the wind and put your arms around his neck and he immediately put his arms around your waist and pulls you towards him. He walks to the shallow end of his pool and puts you against the side of it.

"I'm fighting every urge to kiss you." He says.

"Same. You have no idea how much I want to."

"Then why aren't we kissing?" He says nuzzling and nipping your jaw.

"Because we both know it not going to just be kissing."

"Kiss me and find out." He says kissing your cheek and right under your ear.

"Why don't you kiss me?" You say running your nails down his back.

"I am kissing you." He moves down to your neck.

You turn your head so he'll kiss that spot under your jaw. He does and you practically moan out his name.

"Fuck, you sound so good moaning out my name."

"Kiss me." You moan out as he kisses that spot again.

"Where?" He runs his tongue against that spot and gently bites you.

You finally turn your head and kiss him. He somehow pulled you even closer.

You put your hands in his hair as he slides his tongue inside your mouth. You pull away a bit and just look at him.

"What? We can stop."

"Nothing, I'm just taking you in. You're really good looking. I did not think this was going to happen." You say giggling.

"You're sweet. You're so gorgeous. You didn't? That bikini doesn’t agree." He says putting his hand on your ass.

You just laugh.

"Apparently, the internet is true, 'Chris Evans, an ass man'."

"With an ass like this, most definitely." He says putting his other hand on your ass.

"You are a whole mess. But to answer your question, I had maybe hoped that I could make out with my super hot neighbor, maybe just once."

"I knew it. Well that same internet calls you 'The writer who is taking YA by storm' I also saw your photoshoot in Vanity Fair, that's why I hoped you were going to wear a bikini, but this....."He runs his thumb along the edge of your bikini bottoms. "This is better than I could imagined."

He kisses you again and you wrap your legs around his waist and you can finally feel his amazing dick against your pussy.

"Damn, I can feel how warm your pussy is, I can't wait to taste you." He says in your ear.

"You look like this and can talk dirty."

"That's nothing......."

You bring his mouth back to yours and bite his bottom lip.

He reaches up and unties your bikini top, then kisses his way down to your nipple and slowly sucks it into his mouth, between his hot mouth and the chill of the water your close to an orgasm.

"Oh my goodness. You are the absolute worst."

He moves to your left breast, while his hand slowly making its way to your pussy.

The backdoor opens....

"Chris, I called you like 8 fucking times...............well hello Erin." Scott says.

"Oh my God, Scott!" You yell.

Chris just holds you close to give you some sort of cover.

"I obviously don't have my phone on me."

"I can see your hands are very full." He says looking straight into the water.

Chris tries to re-tie your top.

"Walk her to me." Scott says squatting down.

He ties the your top for you and get off of Chris.

"Well, this is not embarrassing at all!" You say swimming away.

"I'm fine." Scott says taking off his sandals and shirt and getting in the pool.

"That was the beginning and not the ending of that, right?"

"Ask him." You say laughing.

"You good over?" Scott asks him, when you both realize that he hadn't moved.

"Yep." He quickly turn and swims straight for you.

You scream and try to swim away.

He grabs you around the waist and puts you over his shoulder, then stand up so your ass is in his face and he turns and bites your left ass cheek. Then takes you back under the water. You bite him on his back and he let's you go.

You swim away and hide behind Scott.

"Nope, don't bring that shit over here."

"You heard him. Go away Chris."

"Come here, Erin."

He says as he lunges towards you.

You were quicker and got out of the pool.

He watches you walk away.

"Erin, can I have fries with that shake?"

"You better behave."

"This is me behaving."

"You want a beer, Scott?"

"Always." You open it and had it to him.

"Do I get one?"

"Are you going to behave?"

"Probably, not."

You open his and walk it over to him.

You finally get yours.

"Watch this."

You put your beer bottle on the edge of the pool, stand to the left of it.

You do a cart wheel right over the bottle but stay on your hands and pick it up with your teeth and suck it in a little, then do a front to back slit then push off your hands and gracefully flip into the water. You come up with the beer bottle still in your mouth.

"Holy shit. That's awesome." Scott says.

Chris is just leaning against the side of the pool staring at you.

You swim up to him

"You didn't like it?" You ask feeling a bit insecure.

He grabs your hand and walks you out of the pool and straight towards his back door.

"We'll be right back. Go ahead order whatever for lunch." He says to Scott as you follow him inside.

#chris evans #chrisxwoc #one year in boston #jojolu

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 5 years ago

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two years too late, chapter t w o

When your alarm went off on Friday morning, you were sure that it had all been a dream. Your feet hit the floor and you looked out the frosted window. The snow was still there. Your coat was still in the living room where you’d left it, your tea cup still on the coffee table--an empty reminder of the night before.

Your commute was longer than usual but not nearly as bad as the way home yesterday. The subway was in better condition and people seemed less miserable, likely because it was Friday, and the city always seemed to have a bit of a buzz at the end of the week.

So now, as you stood in the office kitchen waiting for the Keurig to spit out your coffee, you recounted the events and sorted them into the good and bad categories that your brain so easily made.

Good: he didn’t bring it up. He seemed excited enough to see you. He didn’t mention any other embarrassing events. He was nice to Alyssa. He paid for the Pad Thai. He didn’t overstay his welcome in your apartment. He said he’d see you again.

Bad: there were plenty of awkward moments. He used your stupid nickname multiple times. He didn’t take the hint that you didn’t even want him in your apartment in the first place. He told you he’d read your stories (which likely meant he read your tweets and those were all sorts of a mess). You felt stupid most of the time you were with him. He said he’d see you again.

You couldn’t really decide which category that last one fit in, so you saved it a spot in both.

“Did you see that Harry Styles performed a super small concert at Spotify last night?” Your coworker, Carly, slithered up to your cubicle and smiled toothily at you. Her blonde hair was up in a ponytail, her casual Friday look still put yours to shame.

You were used to her excitement about anything Harry did, but this time it was harder to feign interest. You licked at your lips and willed away the heat that tried to rise to your cheeks. “I’ve always been more of a Liam girl myself,” you said nonchalantly, keeping your eyes on your computer as you pulled up The Scoop’s homepage.

“Oh come on, the hair and the eyes and those tattoos,” she laughed a little, lowering her voice as if this wasn’t typical workplace dialogue. In fact, it was regular workplace dialogue. Carly was obsessed with One Direction (but mostly Harry) and she never kept that a secret. She was the one who wrote most of the articles about the band--her live tweeting of Harry’s album release were some of the The Scoop’s most popular moments.

And besides, your job revolves around talking about this type of shit. You had to be up to date on whatever celebrities were doing and you always needed to have something quick and witty to say about it.

But you were also used to avoiding conversations about Harry in the workplace. Seeing as he’d released his album right after you started your job meant the first month was like tiny dodging bullets--an article here about his record sales, a list assignment there about the best lyrics. (You passed that one on to Carly though, claiming you hadn’t even listened and couldn’t possibly take joy away from her by writing about something she loved so much).

Your coworker Max walked by, offering a smile to both of you as he headed for the kitchen.

The Scoop’s office was modern and sleek, filled with standing desks and conference tables surrounded by balance ball chairs. You had common spaces with brick-red couches and vending machines for when you needed a change of scenery or a snack--all of the makings for a trendy workspace and happy employees.

The gym downstairs was open late into the night and early in the morning--though you’d managed to wander in there once and it was only by accident. You heard rumors that they had deodorant and toothbrushes for the staff to use, but that still didn’t do it for you.

“How’d you fair in the snow? I saw your tweet last night,” she rested her arms on the wall of your desk, her chin falling to rest on top of them as she waited for your response.

“Fine--the subway was shit but my roommate made a good dinner,” you said, dropping the details of your late night snack as you sipped at your coffee. “How ‘bout you?”

You turned to her now, offering her your full attention after checking to see yesterday’s story count. She rolled her eyes a bit. “Fine--I would have rather been at his concert, but whatever. You win some, you lose some.”

You smiled, Carly’s sense of humor was one of the main reasons you loved working here. She was friendly and funny and she was always in support of your desire to cover more real news. She’d been working there a whole year longer than you, and she regularly reminded you that eventually, you’d get to a place where you were covering the types of stories you had your eyes on. She also regularly reminded you that you were one of the most popular writers and regularly received the most digital fan-mail out of everyone on staff.

You’d connected with her quickly after coming on board, and you were thankful for the fact that she was your go-to work buddy. Topic question? Carly could help. Needed to know whether or not it was cool to work in a conference room when you needed a change of scenery? Carly knew.

She offered to grab lunch with you later on but soon left you alone at your desk, hunting through twitter to find some good topics for the day. Your phone buzzed beside you, signaling a message from Jessie. Your stomach knotted and you picked it up to unlock it.

You’d messaged both her and Bryn this morning to inform them of the night’s events. While you might normally include Jake and Adam, you decided that the matter was best suited for the separate chat you had with your girlfriends: one that often had secrets and memes and emojis that weren’t necessarily appropriate to share with the boys. At least not these boys.

Y/N L/N (9:04am): Saw Harry last night….

Jessie Alby (9:26am): What?! How’d it go?? Was he in town?

Y/N L/N (9:26am): He texted me last night and asked if I wanted to go see him play somewhere. Brought my roommate. So weird.

Y/N L/N (9:26am): And before you ask, no, he didn’t bring it up.

Bryn Miller (9:27am): Hold on. Weird why?

Y/N L/N (9:27am): Because we’re not really friends anymore! I haven’t seen him since that night and seriously even seeing him then was weird because he barely speaks to us now.

Bryn Miller (9:28am): I mean, I’d probably have trouble keeping in touch if I were as busy as he is 🤷

Jessie Alby (9:32am): Still shitty of him. But it’s nice that he reached out!

Y/N L/N (9:34am): I didn’t even know he still had my number. I would have deleted it after that night if I were him 🙃

Bryn Miller (9:35am): It wasn’t that bad, Y/N! If it makes you feel any better, you’re probably not the only person who’s done that to him.

Y/N L/N (9:36am): Not helpful!!!!!!

Jessie Alby (9:37am): So wait. Where did you leave it? Did he say he’d see us all soon?

Bryn Miller gave Jessie Alby’s message a thumbs up.

Y/N L/N (9:40am): He said he would but he’s said that a thousand times. We’ll see!

Y/N L/N (9:40am): He did say that he’d love to see us all over Christmas 🎄

You set your phone down on your desk, staring at the photo of the three of you that was thumb-tacked to the side of your cubicle wall--a muted office-gray that reminded you of a stormy sky. It was pinned up beside a picture of all six of you: Jake, Bryn, Adam, you, Jessie, Harry at the end. You’d folded it over right between he and Jessie, fearful that coworkers would catch a glimpse and recognize the mop of curly hair. He looks familiar, they’d say. Is that Harry Styles? You know Harry Styles?!

Before you started at The Scoop, you’d gone through your instagram and rid yourself entirely of any traces of him. Facebook was another matter--most photos of the two of you had been uploaded by others nearly ten years ago--but you’d untagged yourself and set your settings to as private as could be.

You looked back down at the screen of your phone. While the prospect of seeing Harry around the holidays seemed to excite both Bryn and Jessie, you couldn’t decide where you landed on the matter.

Seeing him wouldn’t be miserable, you guessed, especially if it was with the rest of them. Two years ago there were too many people in Kenny Tilley’s basement, which is probably what led to you drinking more than you should have. A more contained setting with only the five other friends who’d seen your highs and lows felt more comfortable. Even if Harry was there.

So you put it on the back burner for now--not obsessing over whether or not you’d see him again and doing your best to quell the butterflies that erupted in your stomach when you thought about the fact that he’d thought of you and invited you and apparently didn’t hate your guts. It felt all too similar to being fifteen again.

Later, you were sat at an afternoon meeting with Carly to your left as Whitney, your boss, detailed the new search engine optimization settings. Whitney was 35, single, and probably the coolest person you’d ever met. She oozed the type of confidence that you could only dream of, and being the Editor-In-Chief of The Scoop seemed like a sick gig.

She wrote whatever she wanted, managed the other writers and editors, and still had time to go to hot yoga three times a week and run a wildly popular bagel-rating instagram account. She had dark brown hair and her lips were always the perfect shade of pink. She wore hoop earrings that were big enough to be bracelets. She was cool.

On top of that, Whitney was caring and compassionate, never one to shame her employees on their mistakes or necessary areas of improvement. Talking with her about work made you excited and hopeful and made you feel like she believed in you. You knew she did.

Carly was busy doodling a flower on her notebook page when your phone buzzed. Harry’s name on your screen--even in it’s abbreviated form of Harry S--sent a jolt of panic down to the tips of your fingers as you reached for the phone and pulled it into your lap.

She pulled her eyes up from the blue ink on her paper, a sideways glance before you mouthed sorry, and turned your attention back to Whitney’s speech on tagging. The aluminum shell of your phone felt like it was burning in your lap, especially when it buzzed for a second time.

You flipped it over slyly, careful to not let Carly see your screen.

Harry S (2:43pm): Tell your coworker Carly I liked her story this morning on my show last night

Harry S (2:43pm) 🙂

You shut it quickly, worried that if she saw her own name she’d only be more intrigued about the message. You turned it over in your lap again, eyes wide as you waited for a lull in the conversation to quietly excuse yourself to the bathroom.

Your heart was pounding faster than it should, tiny thumps that matched your footsteps on the geometric carpet as you wove through other cubicles to find a private place.

The truth of the matter was this: you’d been telling yourself one version of this story for the last two years. You embarrassed yourself in front of him, made a complete fool of yourself, really. So the narrative in your head was along the lines of this: he’d never want to speak to you again because you ruined a perfectly good friendship.

The thought that he didn’t feel that way left beads of nervous sweat on your forehead as you found safety in an empty emergency exit stairwell.

A door shut a few flights up. Voices echoed off of the concrete before another door opened, closed. You looked at the message again as your thumbs hovered over your phone’s keyboard.

With minimal thought, you created a string of syllables that maybe wasn’t exactly the nicest response you could have come up with.

Y/N L/N (2:46pm): Definitely not telling her that. She doesn’t know I know you.

You watched as the blue line danced it’s way across the top of the screen, the word beneath your message immediately turning to read. You waited for the three dots to appear, but instead, you were met with a vibrating phone and an obnoxious picture on your screen of Harry, age 16, standing in your mum’s kitchen with an apron on, fresh off a shift at the bakery.

“I’m at work,” you whispered into the phone after sliding your thumb along the bottom of the screen.

“Oh, yeah, sorry--I just--you’re keeping me a secret?” You could hear the suggestive tone in his voice, causing you to roll your eyes as you ran a hand through your hair. He spoke again, a chuckle escaping his lips. “That’s hot.”

“Okay, ew, gross. Glad to see you’ve grown up over the last few years,” you spoke sarcastically, causing him to laugh harder now on the other end of the line.

“Why don’t you want to tell people you know me? You’re that ashamed?”

You weren’t ashamed. You’d been proud and excited at first--your friend was successful and talented and was taking the world by storm. So what happened, people would ask. Why don’t you talk to him now?

You didn’t have time to get into it with him. “Harry, I’m at work.”

“Right--are you in the middle of something?”

“Yes, a meeting.”

“You’re in the middle of a meeting right now on the phone with me?”

You could hear the smirk on his lips. “Well, no.”

“So you don’t have five seconds for your longtime friend?”

Your eyes went wide at his label. Friend? Longtime? Neither felt necessarily true in the current moment, but you decided not to push it.

You looked around the empty stairwell, left without a good excuse. “I mean--I can talk for a second, I guess.”

“What are you up to tonight? I had radio stuff this morning but I’m done now. Probably gonna nap for a bit to be honest,” he thought aloud. You were so content just listening to him talk that you didn’t respond. “D’ya want to do something? S’Friday.”

You made a face at him through the phone when he reminded you what day it was. You knew what day it was. You were a working adult. You had a calendar on your email server and a physical one on your desk. Another pause as you mulled over his proposal.

“Y/N?”

“Sorry, um, yeah--I guess so,” you said, knowing deep down that you wanted more than anything to hang out with him. You wanted it to feel normal and goofy and just plain fun--the way it felt before.

The next question crawled up your throat and out of your mouth before you could really process it. “Can it be low key, though? Like--without paparazzi?”

He laughed to himself, you imagined that he had that shit-eating grin on, wherever he was. The backseat of a Chevy Suburban like last night, a dressing room, a hot tub filled with models. You didn’t know where he was and you decided you weren’t going to ask. “Yeah, Smalls. Got it. No paparazzi. So--midnight then?”

“Midnight?” You asked incredulously, your head pulling back from the phone in confusion.

“It’s New York City. There was no one out to see us last night because of the weather and the time. Pair that with the big coats and we were undercover, pretty much.”

“So we can only hang out at midnight now?” Some sort of sinking feeling in your stomach, you tried to swallow it away.

“If you really don’t want to be seen with me--which apparently is incredibly important to you,” he teased, a blush rising to your cheeks when he kept speaking. “This will have to be our secret.”

Your heart did a flip. It was just you, Harry’s voice on the phone, and your adrenaline alone in the stairwell. “Okay.”

“Alright,” his voice was quieter now, almost as if he sensed the shift in the air, too. “Get back to work, then.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll text you, and--yeah, we’ll figure something out.”

“Alright.”

“Bye, Smalls.”

“Bye, H.”

Alyssa fell asleep on the couch at 11:29pm just as the third consecutive Friends episode started. You got up quietly, pulled on a sweatshirt, then your coat on top of that. You slipped out the door and down to the foyer of your building where you waited on the front step.

The snow had melted a bit from the night before, but the air was still cold enough to prompt you to pull your hood up over your ears. It was quiet in the Village for a Friday night, a couple passed by on their home from some type of evening out. Eventually, a taller figure with the same flat hat from the night before strode up to your steps.

His head was down to block the cold, but when he lifted his eyes and met yours, you raised your brows in greeting. This prompted Harry to chuckle.

He lifted his arms to motion to the emptiness around him, looking up at you from the sidewalk, gray cement beneath his black boots. “As promised--no paparazzi.”

You fought the smile that tried to creep onto your lips. “A rare sight, m’sure.”

He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets as you climbed down the three steps to meet him at ground level. “Night time is usually the best for exploring, anyway.”

“Exploring?” you pulled a face. “You said yourself last night that you have an apartment. Haven’t you done enough exploring?”

“I can always do more.”

“Where’s your apartment from here, anyway?”

He threw a thumb over his shoulder. “Seven blocks up and one blocks west towards the river.”

Seven blocks up and one block west towards the river. That was practically your backyard. Instead of addressing the fact that he lived so close (and yet still didn’t bother to reach out), you started walking in that direction, he fell into step beside you.

“How was work?”

“Fine, how was the radio stuff?” You used the term he’d applied earlier, looking up at him as you passed the wash and fold on the corner.

“I asked first,” he looked at you with knitted brows, playfully offended that you’d turned the question around. You seemed to have a habit of doing that.

“It was fine. Had a meeting in the afternoon that you interrupted me from. Wrote seven different stories today. Most of them were lists. I hate lists.”

“You hate lists?”

You looked both ways before crossing the street. A few cars passed by and Harry seemed to shrink into his jacket--you didn’t know if it was to avoid the cold or avoid being recognized.

“Hate them,” you nodded. “It’s all I write. Dumb lists about dream vacations or things I’d rather be doing at any given moment. People love them, though.”

He laughed a little bit, eyeing you sideways as you made contact with the sidewalk on the other side. “If people love them then why do you hate them?”

“Because I want to write real news!”

“I think you are writing real news,” he said quietly, clearly deep in thought about your statement. You passed by Walker Park and he looked down at you. “That list you did--10 things we know about Ariana Grande’s new music video--that’s real news. Everything she does is news.”

You let out a small laugh, appreciative of his reassurance. He’d always been kind and thoughtful, but his words crawled into your heart as you waited for the walk-sign to flash white above your head.

“I guess I just want to cover more than just that.”

He nodded, his lips pushing out told you he was still pondering your words. You felt uncomfortable, so as you entered into the crosswalk, you changed the subject to his day.

He told you about the radio hosts he’d sat with, the questions they asked. His eyes wrinkled at the sides when he talked about the nice things his fans said on twitter. Three more blocks, then a big glass door with a doorman out front. Harry stopped short.

“This is my building.”

“It’s--” you searched for the word like it was hidden in sand at the beach, your formal education in wordsmithing suddenly out the window when confronted with the smooth lines and modern accents. “Nice.”

“We don’t have to go in,” he shrugged, looking down at you.

You spoke at the same time as he did, again.

“We can go in.”

“We can keep walking,” a change of direction for him when he heard your words. “Yeah, no, I can give you a tour.”

You wondered about his walk on the way over. Did he listen to music in headphones like most millennials heading for a friend’s place? Did he count the yellow taxis that passed by, slipping into the night as their shifts came to an end?

He greeted the doorman by name and unbuttoned his coat as you waited for the lift. He told you he bought the apartment in April, claiming he stayed in hotels or at a friend’s place when he was in town before that.

He swiped a card and pressed a button, and when the elevator opened, you were face to face with the back of a brown leather couch and two rustic end tables. Round-top windows across the room showed the night sky, white-oak floors sat beneath an oriental rug.

“Wow,” you stepped forward, assuming, since he seemed pretty comfortable, that the lift had actually deposited you straight into his apartment.

“Yeah, well, can’t take credit for the decorating. My mom and Gemma helped--and Erica, too, actually.”

He took off his coat and set it on the couch, leaning against it as you stood in the center of the room. The lift closed behind you, a hum of a mechanical sound let you know it was slinking down it’s shaft.

Before long you were settled on the couch with a glass of wine in your hand, Harry in a chair to your left with his ankle resting on his knee. He dressed in black from head to toe--his shirt, his pants, his shoes.

“So the rats are the worst part,” he laughed, his fingers running through his hair as he looked up at the ceiling. “Makes sense.”

“I didn’t really buy it at first--you hear people say they’re terrible but until you see one pulling a piece of pizza up a staircase in the subway station, you just don’t understand.”

“May or may not take over the city, kind of thing.”

You let out a belly laugh, throwing your head back as he smiled over at you, swirling his wine in his glass. “Exactly. But I guess the best part is just,” you exhaled a big breath, wondering how to sum up your love for dirty, tough, soul sucking New York City. “My friends here, and Alyssa, and my job.”

He tilted his head to the side, eyes scanning over you for a second. When he spoke, his voice was quiet--curious--and almost like he didn’t want to know the answer. “Do you ever miss home?”

“Holmes Chapel?” You said it as if you weren’t quite sure where home was. You thought of the fields, the small downtown and the roads that led you out of that universe. “Not really.”

He nodded, tugging at his lower lip.

“I mean, I miss the people, of course. My parents, my sister. My house. Not the town, really.”

He hummed a noise of understanding, a sip from his wine as he stared at the eggshell white ceiling. “I do.”

He didn’t bring his eyes back down to you. Instead he avoided your gaze, giving you permission to study his features as if you hadn’t studied them your whole life. As if even now, when you saw him on a magazine cover, you didn’t pause for a second to evaluate the eyes looking back at you or the one piece of his hair that always seemed to fall onto his forehead.

When he let his eyes trail back to you, your lips curled upwards. “We left on different terms, I guess.”

His eyebrows rose and fell, a look of amusement crossing his face.

“While you were signing record deals I was finishing a-levels.”

It wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed your mind. There were other moments like this when the differences between your life and Harry’s felt incredibly staggering. Like when you found out he was dating Taylor Swift. Or when you learned he’d met Paul McCartney.

There were always small reminders that the two of you existed in separate worlds, even if those worlds hadn’t collided in a long time.

“I meant what I said last night, y’know.” He watched you closely, his eyes an emerald green in the dark lighting of his posh living room. “About being a shit friend.”

You didn’t know what to say. He was a shit friend at times. But so were you. At least, you had been that night. You remembered the time he helped you roll your bicycle back to your house after you got a flat tire at Jessie’s. Year 7.

You remembered the time he warned you that Peter Moore was going to ask you to the school dance and pretended to be your date so you didn’t have to go with him.

But then you also remembered when he missed Adams birthday party because he got drunk the night before with Ed Sheeran and couldn’t bother to call. You also remembered when he didn’t text Jake after his grandma died because he was in Tokyo.

You understood that fame happened. You didn’t ever expect him to pass up his chance--especially seeing as you’d always known how talented he was. But sitting here, with your feet on his couch and a snow-covered New York outside, you just wished he’d kept in touch.

“I get it,” was all you said.

He kept his eyes trained on you, and you wondered what it would be like if he’d never left. Maybe he would have moved to London like the rest of you did. Or maybe his fate had long been determined. All you knew, as you watched him tilt his wine glass back to finish the last sip, was that you wished life was like a snowglobe. One that you could shake, and drop, and flip upside down to watch the snow and glitter dance, the scene inside completely still, never to change.

You felt uncomfortable in the Chevy Suburban by yourself that night, the heat on high because you made small talk with the driver about how cold the night air was. A text from Harry saying he enjoyed your night together was the last thing you saw before closing your eyes in bed.

You reasoned with yourself at the kitchen table the next morning over a bowl of oatmeal. Maybe being his friend wasn’t terrible--you’d done it before and maybe it would be just like that. Maybe you could keep your teenage feelings in check.

You’d barely gotten a bite of breakfast down before your phone buzzed beside you, a FaceTime call from Jessie coming through.

“Good morning,” you laughed after swiping your thumb across the screen to answer the call.

Jessie--her auburn hair up in a bun and the freckles on her cheeks more present than ever--had her face smushed up against Bryn’s.

“Hi Brynie,” you waved your spoon at them, knowing full well what they were calling about.

After a second glass of wine, Harry had decided to send a snapchat of the two of you--your cheeks smushed together just like your friends’ were, now--to the rest of the group.

“Good morning my arse--you’re lucky we waited until a decent hour to call you and demand some fucking answers, woman,” Jessie’s accent was thick, her energy palpable through the phone as Bryn let out a laugh.

“What she means is, how was your night?”

You rolled your eyes. “It was fine--I don’t know why he suddenly wants to hang out with me.”

“And he seriously still hasn’t brought it up?” Jessie’s eyebrows pointed together like an arrow.

“Nope,” you popped the ‘p,’ adjusting in your seat as you took another bite of your breakfast. Mushy oatmeal wasn’t necessarily your first choice, but you hadn’t been shopping since the beginning of the week. You and Alyssa had planned on heading to the grocer down the block, but that was only if she ever woke up.

“I mean, I also have avoided the conversation like the plague, to be fair. M’not about to just say, ‘hey, remember that night when I was really drunk and acted like a fucking idiot?’”

“I don’t think he thinks it was that bad,” Bryn tried to reassure you.

“Right!” You let out a quick laugh, careful to not be too loud in your quiet apartment. The morning was still somewhat untouched. Unopened mail on the coffee table, the candle Alyssa had bought a few weeks ago still uncapped beside it.

The blanket your roommate had fallen asleep with the night before was still balled up on the couch. You wondered what time she made the semi-unconscious trek from this room to her bed. You didn’t know because you were busy drinking wine with Harry and pretending that all of this wasn’t weird.

“Listen,” you told them. “I don’t know why he wants to hang out with me or where his head is at about that night, but--I don’t know--I’m just trying to be normal.”

Jessie raised her eyebrows, a small smile coming across her face. You could read her mind. After being friends with her for more than half of your life, you knew exactly what she was thinking when she opened her mouth, looked at you, looked away, and then closed it.

“Just say it, Jessie,” you rolled your eyes, another spoonful of oatmeal into your mouth, waiting for her lecture to ensue.

“I dunno, Y/N, I just think that you and Harry--” she looked over to Bryn, who immediately continued on for her.

“You might always have a schoolgirl crush on him, and we just, we don’t want you to get hurt again.”

You licked at your lips, your eyes falling to the wood of your kitchen table. Knots of dark maple stared back at you, providing no insight or guidance on how to respond to the sudden shift in the conversation.

“I know,” you said quietly.

You hadn’t meant to get hurt the first time. It wasn’t your fault that the week you finally had the guts to tell him how you felt was the same week he left for bootcamp. You thought he’d be home in a few weeks--those shows didn’t really make people famous, right? Certainly not your friend with an obnoxiously loud laugh and a penchant for using embarrassing nicknames.

So maybe you sulked around for a while after he left, especially when it became clear he wasn’t coming back.

The first call was to tell you he’d been rejected, but, wait for it, there was good news. A group was formed. You and Adam joked about how long it would take for one of Harry’s new bandmates to punch him when they realized how annoying he could be.

A call a few weeks in had him excitedly telling you that he was going to Spain. Then he was moving into the house, then they made it further and further each week. The calls slowed down and soon the majority of your interaction with him happened through a telly screen.

You’d sit around in Bryn’s living room, smacking Jake on the head with a pillow whenever he talked too loud, arguing that you all needed to pay close attention, voting as much as your mobiles would allow. While Jessie and Bryn were totally in the know about your growing crush for one of your best mates, Jake and Adam remained relatively in the dark.

He was home that first Christmas, telling exciting stories of the celebrities he’d met and the places he’d been, casually letting it slip that he’d lost his virginity and was likely moving to London--the band was going to try to go even further.

You’d kind of given up at that point, recognizing that your lives were two threads being pulled in opposite directions. While you’d once been part of the same cloth, you were building your own tapestries now.

So you let it go. Bryn and Jessie offered their love and support and everyone kept going with their own academic endeavors. You’d see him at holidays or maybe once in the summer when the band came through town, laughing in empty venue hallways and being ushered to the best seats in the house. You’d have a glass of wine or a pint when you knew you’d be seeing him, quelling the nervous knot in your stomach that often lodged in your throat.

“He still calls me Smalls,” you said, pulling your eyes up to see them again as a smirk tugged at your lips. “Such a stupid nickname.”

“S’not stupid,” Bryn objected, her face twisting into one of irritation. “S’cute--and Adam and Jake still call you that sometimes too.”

“S’different coming from Harry,” Jessie answered for you, a silence passed and you let your spoon clank against your bowl as you set it down.

“He knows he’s been a shit friend, by the way. Both nights he’s admitted it to me, so, I think he feels guilty, I guess.”

“I mean, I get it, y’know. I get that he’s been way too busy and running in a thousand directions.” Bryn shrugged her shoulders and let a sigh escape between her lips.

“But it’d be nice if he could at least see us when he’s home, respond in the group, text us on our birthdays,” you finished for her, knowing by heart the places in your life where he was missing.

You’d done your grocery shopping, cleaned the bathroom, and you were now seated on the couch in a pair of sweatpants. Slivers of nail polish fell down like the snowflakes from two days before as your thumb scratched wildly against your pointer finger.

Alyssa was seated on the floor in front of you, rifling through a bin of DVDs--artifacts of her teen years. “Mean Girls, Sleepover--that one’s a throwback,” her messy bun pulled wisps of her loose brown hair away from her face.

A knock on the door had her leaping to her feet, a look on curiosity crossing her face as she danced on bare feet towards the door. She pressed her eye to the peephole, her face a ghostly white as she turned around and pushed her back to the door, barricading it shut. “Harry Styles is at our door.”

“What? Why?” You stood from the couch, crossing your arms over your chest as you closed the distance between the two of you.

“Oh, he called and said he was going to stop by for tea,” she whispered at you, sarcasm dripping from her words as she stepped aside so you could take a look for yourself. “If celebrities are going to start showing up at our door we need warnings, Y/N!”

“I didn’t know he was coming--he didn’t say anything!” You pulled the door open before she could respond, revealing Harry, hands in his pockets, leaning back on his heels. An awkward smile on his face as he spoke.

“I’ll try and give a better warning, next time,” he made eye contact with Alyssa, playfully letting you both know that he heard every word you’d said.

But that was nothing compared to the level of embarrassment you were used to when it came to Harry and things that came out of your mouth. So, you looked him up and down, noticing that he was dressed more formally than the night before. Same black pants, but this time a black button down shirt, undone just enough at the top to show flecks of black ink on his chest.

You reached forward and tugged at the fabric, pulling him into the apartment and closing the door behind him swiftly. “Did you walk in the front door? Did anyone see you?”

He smoothed out his shirt with a frown when you let go of him, Alyssa staring wide eyed at the two of you when he responded. “Someone was walking out and held the door, didn’t even look up, though, s’New York, for you.”

You padded over to the window on the opposite side of the room, looking down at the street below. The last thing you needed was a photo linking you and Harry together. Young journalist uses childhood friend for career success, they’d say.

“No paparazzi,” Harry answered for you as he hung his coat on the back of your front door.

He was right--there was no sign of lenses or flashing lights on the curb below, just white cigarette butts and hardened sidewalk gum. You turned to face him, still completely uncertain why he was standing in your living room at 5:30pm on a Saturday.

You didn’t have to say that, though, because he soon offered an answer. “I uh--I was gonna go to a concert tonight, was just wondering if you wanted to come. You, too, Alyssa,” he turned to your roommate, who’s eyes were wide despite the smile on her face.

You cleared your throat, hoping to make Alyssa snap back into her regularly functioning self. Harry brought his eyes to you. “Sara Bareilles--do you know her?”

“Do we know her!” Alyssa laughed, her excitement only growing as you made your way to the couch. “I cried so hard to Love Song in the shower when I was twelve.”

Harry chuckled at this, letting his eyes settle on you. Alyssa did the same--clearly hoping that you’d acquiesce.

You stuttered over your words, uncomfortable with the power they were both affording you. “What--I don’t--we’re just supposed to tag along to her concert? Do you have three tickets?”

“She invited me,” he shrugged. “Said I could bring friends.”

“Bring friends?” You repeated his words, letting that sink in. Right, okay. This is how it was to be a celebrity. Free things, show up places and get VIP treatment. “How do you know her?”

“Her manager is friends with Erica. Saw her at a party about a week ago.”

“Y/N, we have to go. It’s Sara Bareilles. She’s like, on Broadway and is amazing.”

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go. If anything, a Sara Bareilles concert with Alyssa was something you would have jumped at a few days prior. Adding Harry to the mix--and using him as the ticket in--felt weird.

“You really think it’d be okay with we come?” Alyssa turned to Harry, shoving her hands into the front pocket of her maroon sweatshirt.

He nodded, his eyes flickering back to you. “S’fine, if you’re busy.”

“We’re not busy,” you said, letting a sigh brush past your lips. “I just feel bad, I don’t want to use you for tickets.”

“I’m inviting you,” he laughed, walking to sit beside you on the couch. “And I’ll make you a deal, Smalls. You can totally buy me a drink when we’re there.”

You rolled your eyes, simultaneously bothered and enchanted by the way he winked at you.

You’d been to Irving Plaza before. You’d seen two shows: one with Alyssa and one on a bad Tinder date. The bar that they had inside was decent (thank god, especially for that date) and the bathroom stalls were covered in drunken sharpie doodles. It was right next to Union Square, making it accessible and easy to find.

Tonight, however, instead of shuffling through subway gates and dark tunnels, you’d been dropped off by the same man in the same black Chevy Suburban and you learned his name was Roger.

Erica met the three of you in the back--an alleyway entrance that seemed much less glamorous than you’d imagined fame to be. She gave you a hug this time, seemingly excited to have two civilians along for the night. You wondered what her life was like: did she have to schedule Harry’s dates with models and influencers? Did she have to memorize their phone numbers or worse, their astrological signs or favorite colors? She must have had tons of awkward encounters with beautiful and boring girls--ones who were latching on to Harry for the money or the fame, or, apparently, the free invites to concerts.

Harry’s manager, Jeff, made an appearance backstage when you and Alyssa were busy photographing the signed posters of previous acts that hung on the white cement wall. Snapchatting them to Bryn and Jessie seemed like an obnoxious, yet totally acceptable thing to do. You couldn’t explain why Harry was suddenly interested in being friends again, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy it.

The most exciting moment pre-concert was when Alyssa subtly grabbed your hand, nearly cutting off circulation as Sara greeted both Erica and Harry with a kiss on the cheek. She introduced herself to Jeff and then to you and Alyssa before offering to take a picture, one that Harry insisted on being in. She left the group behind to finish preparing for her show, thanking you all for coming and promising to play Harry’s favorite song.

And you learned something else: famous people wait for the lights go down in a venue before heading to their post. They slink in between bodies and find a secluded corner to spend their night, sending others to the bar so they don’t have to risk being seen.

Which was fine, you owed Harry a drink anyway. So you got five Moscow Mules and headed back to the group before doling them out. One for Harry, one for Alyssa, one for Erica, one for Jeff, and one for you.

You measured the night in songs, wondering how many you’d sing along to before having to part ways with the boy with a big smile and an even bigger heart. Alyssa, with her drink up to her lips, wiggled her eyebrows at you as if she knew exactly what you were thinking.

You figured she probably did.

So when Harry slinked an arm around your shoulder, drunkenly swaying to the music, you let yourself relax. He wouldn’t--no, couldn’t--do this if he really hated you, right? December 29th was a night that you both likely wished to forget, but if he really felt like you’d ruined your friendship, he certainly wouldn’t invite you to a concert, get drunk on Moscow Mules, and then whisper into your hair that he was glad you were here.

Which is what you told yourself the entire ride home, hoping to counteract the anxiety that the liquor brought on. Alyssa giggled in the backseat and swiped through photos of the show on her phone, showing them to Harry, beaming like a proud parent. She slipped into her bedroom after you all rode up in the elevator, insisting that she was exhausted and sleep-deprived, but you knew it wasn’t that. She hoped that more alcohol and late night chatting would lend itself to a different night entirely, one that you knew wasn’t possible between two people like you and Harry.

So when her bedroom door shut and the both of you were left standing awkwardly in the middle of your living room, you offered the only solution you could think of: wine.

“Does it turn on?” you heard him call from the living room as you sifted through the drawers in the kitchen. Spatula, no, can opener, no. Your hand landed on the wine opener, pulling it out of the heap of other kitchen utensils before rounding the corner back towards the couch.

“Hmm?” the bottle clinked against the glasses in your arm as you tried to deliver them all safely to the surface of the coffee table.

“The Christmas tree,” he said, but you didn’t see him.

He’d left his spot on the couch--trading it for a place beside the tree--kneeling and reaching for the wire in the back as he tried to shove it into the socket.

“Oh, yeah, just--”

He succeeded before you could give him any pointers, the room illuminated in different shades of greens, reds, yellows, and blues. He turned his head to look at you before getting up, a smug twitch of his lips as you let out a laugh.

“I’m quite handy, y’know,” he said casually, pushing himself off of the floor before sinking into the couch. “Leaky faucet? I’m your man.”

You rolled your eyes as you cut open the foil around the cork, his eyes on your fingers as you inserted the screw, fighting a smile. “I’ve got a super, but thanks.”

“A super?”

“Superintendent. S’a person who lives in the building and does all of the handy work. New York thing, maybe.”

“Your loss,” he reached for the wine glasses and held them up, letting you tip the bottle into them.

You cheersed and took a sip, the quiet of the room settling around you as he lifted an ankle to rest on his knee. “I talked to Adam the other day.”

You didn’t mean to make a face like it surprised you, but it happened before you could stop it.

“You act like he wouldn’t answer my calls or something,” he laughed, clearly amused by your intrigue.

“No, it’s not--” a sigh as you searched for the right phrasing. “I just know he misses you. Jake, too.”

“Yeah--well, was good to talk to him. I told him we’d been hanging out. He said he already knew.” He smiled at you playfully, using his words to accuse you of talking behind his back.

You bit your lip and gave a dismissive blink of your eyes. “S’not my fault I keep in touch,” the words fell out of your mouth, landing in the air between you, maybe too harsh.

He was quiet for a second, nodding slowly. “I’ll text them all tomorrow. We’ll set something up for the holidays. When are you back, again?”

“The 20th.”

“Eleven days,” he thought aloud. “We should fly together.”

“Together?”

“Yeah--I know you already booked, maybe you can get credit or something to change flights or seats.” He rested his head on the back of the couch, his eyes closing for a moment.

“When are you going?”

“‘Round then as well. I can have Erica look into it tomorrow,” he said.

You let it go, too tired to push or pull or do anything besides listen to him tell you about his time off. He’d been busy with tour and promo and all the things that apparently came along with his lifestyle. He was excited for some down time. Family meals, hometown pubs, and you believed him when he said you’d be a part of it.

While there had previously been a don’t ask, don’t tell attitude about him being back home, it felt different. He promised to see your parents and to head to Red Lion with the gang, a smile through sleepy eyes after a half hour of planning.

“You should go,” you laughed at him, reaching forward to take the empty wine glass from his hand.

He pushed his lips out, his eyes glued on a framed picture of you and your sister. “Don’t wanna.”

“Don’t wanna?” Your lips quirked upwards, unaware that he had a say in the matter.

He turned to look at you. “M’having fun, Smalls.”

It dawned on you then that he was tired and slightly intoxicated. Maybe not the worst you’d ever seen him, but definitely a little buzzed.

“Well, bedtime. And you can’t stay here.”

Another frown, his eyes flashing to yours quickly. You tried not to overthink it.

“Come on,” you said, standing from the couch to fetch his coat from the hook on the door. He made a face at that--one that looked bothered and disappointed all at once. He pulled himself off of the cushions, as if every movement was painful and exhausting.

“Dunno if I’ll make it,” his accent was thick, you didn’t know if it was the wine or the lack of sleep, likely both. He took a few steps towards you and reached for his jacket, taking it from your arms and shrugging it on.

You watched him for a second, the dim light of the Christmas tree kept the room glowing and warm. The stubble on his chin looked more pronounced than yesterday, his eyes a deeper green in the night.

“You’ll make it,” you said quietly, the words barely above a whisper as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

He looked down at you, blinked twice, and leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll call you in the morning, yeah?”

He didn’t need to. He didn’t need to call you or text you or even promise to see you again if he didn’t want to. But you didn’t say that. You swallowed the anxiety that lodged in your throat, the voice that gnawed and chanted two years too late as he stepped around you.

“Okay,” you said.

He pulled the door open, offering another smile before pulling it shut. You heard his footsteps head for the stairs, only four flights down to the sidewalk out front.

There was no car, no Roger. He didn’t call ahead. You wondered if he liked walking the snowy streets, and you wondered if he’d also trace the night in reverse, each step until now. You wondered what he’d say if you brought it up.

You wondered, but you decided you could live with the not knowing as you climbed into cool sheets and clamped your eyelids shut.

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who-is-reign · 4 years ago

Text

Hello, hi, hey

Hi I did a short writing thing- here it is!!

Everything starts with a hello, a hi, a hey. A greeting of some kind. Ours started with something else. It started with a trip, a lot of apologies, and crying. Though I feel like I should probably start at the beginning. That makes more sense anyway.

It all started on what I knew was not going to be a normal day. The day started with two pieces of toast, 3 slices of peaches, and a mug of earl grey tea. Or what I was hoping to be a mug of earl grey tea. I poured the rest of what was left of my mug into a thermos and walked out the door.

3 stairs, take a left, 5 steps forward to the next stairwell. 10 steps down, 5 breathes, 2 stops I could have taken, 7 doors I could see. I ran to my car, even if it was only 5 feet away.

30 minutes and a coffee stop later, I was at work. I work at a publishing firm as the executive editor. I have been there since the start of this company, Indigo Query. I helped with the name of course. Most of the books that I edited are Best Sellers right now. I can’t say I’m not proud of that.

Today is the release date of the first book I wrote. I have babied this book for 4 years. All of the characters are complex and have their own stories. I tried to make it to where there weren’t any background characters. To where there were stories going on behind the scenes, or the main focus of the chapter. It is 1563 pages, 12 pt. Times New Roman font, 468900 words. This book is my literal child. I have had these characters since I was in 6th grade. I only started seriously writing out their story in the last 4 years.

I just realized that you know nothing about me. Maybe that’s for the best. You’ll find out later anyway.

I walked in, went through the cafe, up the elevator, through the small library. I was there, and my book was there. On my desk, I saw a hardcover copy of my book. I almost started crying. Okay, I did start crying. That art was my choice, it was made by one of my oldest friends. I carefully picked up the book, letting my hands run over the almost woven texture of the cover, the embellished sides, and the title. Lastly, my name, small in white coloring. I turned to the copyright page and breathed in. My name is listed as the author and editor. My best friend’s listed as the cover artist. This is what I was meant to do. Write books, edit books, publish books.

I put the book down, I couldn’t read it. Not yet. I needed to meet with Leo Adams, president of the company. He is not the original president, he took over after the old president passed. I personally am not a fan of his. I think he is corrupt and doesn’t deserve the company. The only thing I can hope is that one day this company, my home, will get a better president. The only reason I stayed with this company, is because of my book. I could leave if I wanted to, other publishing companies have asked if I wanted to sign for them.

But I have something in my eyes, something I can’t give up. I want to own Indigo Query. I want to own the thing I love more than anything. This company is my life, my livelihood. I hate seeing a man who doesn’t care about books be in charge of it. I need to save the company I have over a decade of time into. But right now, it is my time. My book is getting released.

I need to focus on that and nothing else. I need to work, that’s what I need to do. What I want doesn’t matter right now, and it won’t matter for a while.

I walked as fast as a caffeinated lesbian could without it being considered running to Leo’s office.

“Ms. Kore, it’s fantastic to see you. And of course congrats on the book release, it looks fantastic already.” Leo’s words drawled on, a slight curve to his phrases. I hated it.

“Of course sir, I couldn’t have had this book released without you,” I replied, trying desperately to keep the ill intent out of my voice.

What I didn’t say, was that of course, I couldn’t have had this book released without you. Even with you, there were so many issues with getting it released. Including the date getting pushed back 6 months. I could have had this book out, and sold by now. But no, he said it was too problematic. It took all of the editors, our cover designers, the VP of the company, and basically everyone to get him to allow it to be sold.

“Though Ms. Kore, I must tell you, I really do not think this book will thrive that much. I just do not want to see you getting hurt. Take the day off, you need to.” I almost scoffed once he said that, but I really only muttered thank you and walked out of the office.

I practically ran to one of my coworker’s desks and sighed completely and utterly overdramatically. This coworker has been my friend since high school and they helped found the company. They also know about my aspiration to own Indigo Query.

“Oliver, I can’t believe him. He literally said that he didn’t think my book would work out and that he just didn’t want me to get hurt.” I groaned and tried to not sound whiny, though I know I did.

“Babe, that is so horrid but also you are so close to literally owning this company. You are so close, and you can’t lose sight of what you have done because our boss is horrible.” I know they’re right, and I am really close, but I need a break.

“I’m leaving for the day, Adams said I had to.” I sighed.

“Girl you have been here for less than an hour, sit down.” Oliver raised their eyebrows and practically forced me to sit at my desk.

I just rolled my eyes and got to work on a new manuscript that came in today. It wasn’t long before my eyes felt like they were going to burst from my head.

“I’m taking a coffee and tea run. Want anything?” I closed the manuscript, my question aimed for Oliver who was holding a red pen and had a red pen tied up in their hair.

“Yes, yes, and yes please darling. You know my order anywhere.” And they were right, their order hasn’t changed since freshman year. Unlike everything else. Oliver used to be really shy, with red curly hair, they didn’t have confidence. And now they talk or flirt with everyone, have longer sunset ombre hair, and have more confidence. I’m proud of them.

I walked out of the building and to the nearest cafe. I ordered Oliver’s, which was a matcha latte with added raspberry syrup, apparently, it was amazing. Then I got a London fog earl grey tea with extra vanilla syrup.

I noticed the cafe had a small bookstore and I walked over there after ordering. I saw something that warmed my heart, my book. I inhaled deeply in shock, already a small bookstore had my book in it. I grabbed a copy and read through some of it. My words, my characters, my world. I get now why it is such a big deal for Oliver every time they see a book they wrote. I only walked away when I heard my name getting called. I grabbed both of the cups and walked away, saying thank you many times.

Close to the door, the not so impossible happened. Someone ran into me, my tea spilled everywhere. Oliver’s drink ended up being safe somehow.

“I am so sorry, I can’t believe myself, I’m so sorry. Deeply sorry. Let me help.” The person who ran into me sputtered out.

“Don’t be sorry it was an accident, it is okay,” I say looking at them softly.

They had hair a little bit longer than their shoulders, it was a coppery red. Their eyes were a shade of amber. That was when I realized.

“Laurette?” I asked, stunned that this may be her.

“Yeah? Do I know-- Persephone!” Laurette hugged me and sighed. “It’s fantastic to see you!”

“Good to see you too. What are you doing these days?”

“Oh! I’m living with Ophelia with our kid. I’m a fashion designer and she is a daycare owner. So she gets her share of kids every day. What about you?” as Ophelia spoke I could practically feel her love for her wife.

“That is fantastic! I’m the chief editor and now an author for a publishing company called Indigo Query. My first book got released today actually. I work with Oliver Evanora.” I was filled to the brim with pride.

“Really? Congrats! I bet the book is amazing! I’ll have to check it out sometime. Tell Oliver I said hi. ” Laurette sighed happily, “Well, it’s been great seeing you, I’m so sorry about the tea. I hope to bump into each other again.”

I smiled and went back up to the counter to grab the tea they remade, gave them a 10 dollar tip, and left. A newfound pleasure seeped through me. I walked back to the office, careful not to spill anything. I gave Oliver their drink and went straight back to work.

4 hours later and the clock showed 5 pm, the day that I had been waiting for years to happen was over. Since I needed desperately to get home, I made Oliver give me a ride home.

“Why didn’t you drive to work? You have a car.” Oliver asked when they were in their car.

“Because I wanted to walk.”

“It’s winter, it is dark at like 4. You can’t walk home when it’s dark. We live in a city, girl.”

I just sighed, they were right anyway. I didn’t think it through.

“Want to get food?” They asked, “Cause I am starving!”

“Nah, I’ve got to get home.”

“Ok girl, whatever you deem useful,” Oliver said, already pulling down my street.

“Thank you so much! Oh and by the way Laurette said hi.” I said as I shut the door.

I went inside and set water on to boil. I started stirring the water clockwise and humming a distant melody. It was almost time. The water started to bubble like an ancient potion that had just been given the final ingredient. I poured the water over a mug, grabbed a tea bag, and let it seep. At this point, the stars were already out and thriving.

After a quick 5 minutes, I grabbed my mug and walked outside into my backyard. I went directly to my shed. My shed was more of my office than a shed. It had a typewriter, my laptop, a shelf filled with different types of teas or coffee. Plants were scattered about, my desk had a big fluffy white chair pushed up to it. Everything was a pastel blue, pink, or white. It didn’t really seem like it was mine, but it was. And it’s more of a home to me than my room is.

I sighed as I sat down on my mug, put on gardening gloves, and grabbed my spade. I went outside and started to get to work. I planted a new rose bush, I replanted my lemon tree that's growing out of their pot. I moved my ever-growing cherry tree to where they’ll get better sun.

All of this I did while humming, or singing in some parts. I am the type of person to sing and talk to my plants. I am also the type of person to own 3 trees and more plants than I can count.

I heard a bang and I flinched, my entire body froze in place, as if any movement would cost me my life.

“Is anyone there?” I whispered, barely to where anyone could hear it.

“Hello, darling” When I heard Oliver’s voice I calmed down, “sorry to scare you babe, but you seem stressed. Thought I’d help.”

“It’s okay, Oli.” I sighed, already putting my spade and gloves away. “So, how did you plan to calm me down?”

“Stargazing with some people from high school,” Oliver replied, smiling.

“Like who?”

“Kira, Raven, Laurette, Ophelia, Lilith--” Oliver was about to continue but I cut them off.

“Okay, I get it, almost everyone. Let’s go.” I said, laughing, “Let me change first.”

Five minutes later I was in Oliver’s car wearing a star printed black layered lace dress and 4-inch heeled black boots.

“Let’s go! I wonder if they all brought their kids! Oh, I can’t wait to see Sabrina or even Litha! I miss my coven friends.” Oliver used to be in a coven at school, it broke up after our senior year.

“Where is the place we’re going anyway?” I asked, playing with my acrylics.

“It’s only 30 minutes away, a small little cabin. Though, we are staying for a week. I took all the clothes that are yours at my house, it’s enough for 7 days. Plus they all look great.”

“What about work?!”My yells could probably be heard by our high school friends.

“I got it covered babe, don’t worry,” Oliver said in a sing-song tone.

“Got it covered? Um, no. My book just got released, I need to be in town.”

“Honey, your book is already almost sold out at 3 stores. I only bought one copy. Your child will be fine.” Oliver sighed as he looked at me, “You need this. More than any of us do. So, I dragged you into the countryside to look at stars and hang out with people from our high school. Don’t you want to see everyone’s kids? I’m pretty sure Ophelia and Laurette are bringing theirs.”

“Okay, fine. I do need this, don’t I?” I pulled out my phone and breathed in.

‘I need this, I need a break. 7 days hanging out with old friends will give that to me.’ I thought as I mindlessly scrolled through twitter.

Then I came across this,

‘Jdjisddsj this book came out today! I already love it! #ScarletDreams #Persephonekore’

“Holy bees, Scarlet Dreams is trending in the literature section on twitter.”

“That’s fantastic, but we’re here.” I looked up and saw a cottage with wildflowers surrounding it, two beehives sitting among the flowers, a few kids running through fields.

We parked next to where a collection of other cars were. Immediately I was pulled into a hug by Ophelia and Laurette.

“I missed you!” Ophelia exclaimed as she pulled away, her child pulling at her sleeve.

“I missed you guys too, it’s fantastic to see you.”

Oliver looked at me, then to everyone and said: “Was I right? Did you need this?”.

I could practically see his fear of him making a mistake, a dark sludge crawling through him, pulling him down and towards his own Tartarus.

“Yeah Oli, I really did. Work was starting to hurt a little.”

A group of three people left the cabin, they were all holding hands and walking right next to each other.

“Oh, hello. I’m Cassandra. I don’t remember you from high school” She said her last sentence more like an inviting question than a statement.

“Hi, I’m Persephone, I didn’t really talk to many people other than who I knew so I can’t expect you to remember me.” I ended my statement with a small laugh, trying to match her tranquillity.

“Babe, you said there wouldn’t be that many people” The person who spoke was as far behind Cassandra and they could be while still holding her hand.

“I wanted you to come, plus I didn’t that many people would show up, darling.” Cassandra's voice was somehow softer than it was before, it seemed as soft as flower petals blooming out to show a beautiful rose.

Or rather the sun urging a rose to show it’s own beauty. Cassandra’s red hair had so much volume it seemed to live on its own, like a red fox laid over her shoulder. She was wearing a vintage lace dress that was white with roses on it, you could tell a petticoat was hiding beneath the layers of the dress from how it poofed out. Her cheeks were a rosy red, and her eyes had pink eyeshadow flowing out from them. Her eyeliner wings were sharp enough to stab, and honestly, I wanted her to stab me with them.

As soon as I realized what I was thinking I felt guilty, though I wasn’t sure why.

A voice snapped me out of my thoughts, “Hi, I’m Jade!” said the other person next to Cassandra.

Her hair was a really big fluffy black braid, purple threaded itself through the braid, and blue and green followed. The braid went to her lower back and was tied with what I thought was a gold string. A black mini dress hugged her sides. A light pink fluffy jacket was partially zipped and fell off her shoulders. The dress went to her lower thighs, then a few inches down my eyes trailed down to her light pink knee-high boots.

“Take a picture and it will last longer darling,” Jade said, the tone of her voice playful yet held enough flirtiness to send shivers up my spine and turn my face red.

“Darling, let's not immediately start to flirt with the new girl. Let’s not kill her on the first day here.” Cassandra spoke, her tone matching Jade’s.

The one who has stayed behind Cassandra the entire time stepped forward, appearing to gain confidence from my embarrassment.

“Why not? She may hold up longer than I did.” They said, their voice was soft yet firm. It held together like a cactus in heavy wind, trying to keep its grip. I felt like that’s the type of person they were, a cactus. Harsh on the outside with spikes and a few flowers to lure you in, but held water and healing on the inside.

I knew my face was painted a shade that countered everything around me and the dress that now seemed to hug me instead of flow around me. Like the petals of a tulip instead of an orchid. My heart sped up and I felt frail, yet held stable by these people who I had only met what seemed hours ago but what I knew was minutes, or even seconds that had just been drawn out to a century.

Then coughing erupted into my thoughts as Oliver shimmed their way in between me and the group, “Let’s go inside, I need warmth.”

“It’s not even cold” I sighed.

“Whatever,” They said as they already started towards the cottage.

As soon as people realized that Oliver had started to walk away, people hurried to follow them. That was Oliver for ya, they could sure direct a crowd.

#writing #writing save #I did a thing #please read this #it took so long #pleaseee #my writing #original characters #original writing #i did this with my brainnn

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mysticsparklewings · 4 years ago

Photo

Fire Flower

Note: I originally made this painting and typed most of the description towards the end of March. I meant to upload this sooner, but things happened it obviously got pushed way back. Oh gee, would you look at that. It has somehow been 8-9 months since I last made a full acrylic painting... But! I have a video for this one to make up for it! Link: youtu.be/8IgVvgTiZjM I promise I've been trying (and failing) to come up with ideas to do more with this medium. Acrylic paint just isn't my thing. I swear I said this somewhere before, but I have no idea where; It's just hard for me to commit to an acrylic painting when I know I can get the look I want usually much faster and much more easily with other supplies. Acrylic painting just takes so much more time, set up, and patience. This very painting I know I probably could've had done in half the time using primarily watercolor instead, for example. So why is this an acrylic painting instead of something quicker and easier? Because my dear Sparklers, I made this painting and filmed it as a bit of a blending demo for a friend. They tried their hand at an acrylic painting with a sky going from red to yellow...except they lost most of the yellow in the process, and even they weren't really sure how it happened. So since I'm in sort of an art teaching/mentoring position to them, I decided I'd pull out my paints and take a shot at a similar look. Now, to be fair, my end result is very different from their's intentionally. They painted a boat on the water during sunset, I wanted something different and more me, so after some browsing around on Pinterest, I settled on this flower silhouette. I made my own job harder because the reference image had a blue and orange background with lots of black, almost like a vignette, so once I got past the stage of putting the base background colors down, I had a lot more work cut out for myself in trying to replicate that. Speaking of which, you can see most of my process in the video, but a recap just in case: I started by picking out my paint colors, and to be fair I could've gotten away with less or slightly different colors, but I got extravagant and picked a total of nine colors from my Liquitex Basics set (also known as currently the only decent acrylic paints I have):

• Mars Black • Ivory Black • Titanium White • Cadmium Red Deep Hue • Cadmium Red Light Hue • Portrait Pink • Naples Yellow Hue • Cadmium Yellow Medium Hue • Primary Yellow Why the two blacks? Mars Black is a "denser" black so to speak, it's more opaque (less transparent/see-through). The Ivory Black is less opaque, and it's a bit warmer in color than the Mars black. I used the Mars black in areas where I wanted a total and complete black and the Ivory black where I wanted some of the colors from the background to leak through a bit. It's subtle, more of a "feeling" to the eye than something you can clearly see. Also, I used the Portrait Pink, which like the name implies is a very pink flesh tone, and the Naples Yellow Hue (think a shade similar to Yellow Ochre...or fancy Mustard if "yellow ochre" doesn't help you visualize) primarily for blending and not so much for the colors themselves. And the Cadmium Red Light Hue is much more of a reddish-orange in person than it is red, which is why I picked it. It's also pretty transparent (yellows and oranges often are in acrylic paints, especially more student grade ones like the Liquitex Basics) so it also got lost in the mix fairly easily and I had to build it up a lot. In the video, you can definitely see as I start that I do indeed do a lot of back and forth with the paints, blending and layering to my heart's content to try and get the right color balance while also getting a smooth transition. And this goes on for quite a while; the background was definitely the part that took the longest. Initially, I did sketch in a couple of lines as markers for roughly where I needed certain parts of the gradient to begin and end, and with the paints, I went in and got down the base of red and yellows so I could then start working on marrying the two together. And I have to admit, even I let my yellows get a bit lost/pushed down more so than I would've liked. It's a difficult balance to strike; red is already a strong color that easily overpowers yellow. It's even easier when the yellow and your transition colors are more transparent while the red is more opaque. And even more so when your painting has a vignette feel to it. But once I finally had something I was comfortable with and blocked in most of the black (which was a pain in the butt to blend out, by the way, as I'm sure is obvious by how much I go back and forth with it in the video, misusing a fluffy watercolor brush as a mop brush to blend), I then took my outline for the silhouette that I'd already prepared on another piece of paper and used a Faber Castell Gelato (first a gray, then later I'd use a black) on the back to be able to transfer it on the canvas by tracing it with a mechanical pencil with the point pushed in. Personally, I really do think the Gelatos are the best method I've tried for making faux-transfer paper. They're soft so they transfer the color without much fuss without making a powder smudge-y mess (like charcoal, chalk, or pastels might), and they're also water-soluble so they play nicely with the wetness of the acrylic paints, especially if you've thinned them with a bit of water. Then I got the lovely challenge of trying to paint and blend out a nice bright setting sun on top of the blackish mess I'd made. (It actually wasn't that bad; the Titanium White is pretty opaque so once it mixed with the yellow and I got a couple of layers on it really didn't have any problem covering the darkness that it had to.) After that, I transferred again some of my lines I'd covered up and then got to work on the black silhouette parts. I did have to alter the look slightly because I wasn't quite as careful with lining up the placement of my "transfer paper" that second time and also because the brush had different ideas about how much black should be in some places than I did, but it wasn't too much of a hassle. And then, of course, the real challenge of blending the black up to meet the silhouettes without completely covering up my sun or messing up my other blending. Although, this also wasn't as tricky as I had thought it would be. Ironically, I think by the time I got this far I was finally starting to get a handle on the acrylics after having been away from them for so long. Believe it or not, this tiny 4"x6" painting took well over two hours to complete. I had at least two hours of footage that I trimmed down and sped up like four times, and that doesn't include the dry time in between two background layers, the background and the sun, and then the sun and the silhouette. I'd say it was probably closer to 3 and 1/2 hours total, although technically longer because I kept getting interrupted by things and I had to figure out how to set up the camera and everything before I actually started painting. Once I was done with the painting, I also had to actually edit the thing together, which took many more hours than I bothered to document or care to admit. (P.S. Whoever decided all free video editors that don't come pre-installed on a computer either must have stupidly low export limits and/or super obnoxious watermarks, I hate you.) Yeah, there's a reason it's been almost a year since I last posted an actual video of me making art... It just takes so long to edit everything together and I also have to make an extra effort to get stuff set up before and after for filming...Like, maybe it would be different if I had the space and resources to have an area where I could just leave everything and have a camera set up that doesn't move, but right now when my space is limited and my phone is my camera it's just so much easier to...well, to not. At any rate, here's one. One acrylic painting, and one video. A two-for-one special! Sort of! And I think both turned out pretty okay in the end, at least for someone that 1. Doesn't acrylic paint and 2. Doesn't make videos regularly. I call that a win, wouldn't you? Although, I have a few canvases stockpiled. I really should work on trying to squeeze more acrylic paintings into my art regimen somewhere to use those up, if nothing else... ____ Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings ____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble | Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram

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maotranslates · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 7 - A Lively Scene

Novel: Qi Ye 七爷 (Lord Seventh) by Priest

Notes: Hi everyone! I’m really glad some people are interested in reading this, since originally I wasn’t sure if anyone else would care about this when I picked it up. Some parts of this chapter were honestly very difficult for me to translate, so if you find mistakes, please let me know! (Unfortunately, I don’t have an editor, I do my best to translate and edit by myself in my free time.)

Wu Xi’s hands in his sleeves tightened into fists, his fingernails digging into his palms. The lofty and remote man held his chin with one hand and smiled, making him feel an indescribable sense of discomfort. He thought, that person looking at your own appearance is like a noble looking at kittens and puppies for fun.

The high ceiling of the main hall seemed like a small sky, the lifelike dragon on the big pillar spiraling through the sky and straight into the Imperial Court. Everyone’s eyes fell on him. Wu Xi thought that he had always been calm, and that he had learned a lot from the Grand Sorcerer and knew what was right and what was wrong, but he had never been unable to control himself the way he was now.

In South Xinjiang, the Grand Sorcerers were their gods, and the people deeply respected the Grand Sorcerers just as they respected the great god Jia Xi. The sorcerer youths were the Grand Sorcerers of the future, and it was said that they were little messengers from the heavens. Leaving home, he grew up next to the Grand Sorcerer and learned all kinds of things. In the eyes of his people, he was not any less worthy of respect because he was a child.

It was like a rush of blood suddenly went through his heart, violently wanting to break through his body and pounce on all the people who disrespected him.

Wu Xi turned his head and saw the expressions of A Xinlai and the others--his brave people and warriors stood there, disgraced. Their faces showed anger that they could not express with indignation, these men who did not even retreat when confronting wild beasts and poisonous snakes, at that moment, had to raise their heads to look at those lofty, arrogant people.

It was like a bunch of small bugs getting trampled on.

Wu Xi took a deep breath and slowly spoke in the unfamiliar official language: "The things that the Emperor talked about are probably from the sorcery of the Central Plains. We have no such things in South Xinjiang."

"Oh? Then what do you cultivate?"

Wu Xi gave him a fixed glance, and not just He Lianpei who he stared at, but also Jing Qi who was standing beside him, couldn’t help but feel that the child’s eyes were very strange, with an unusual demonic energy. It made people feel uncomfortable in their hearts, not at all lovable like the other children.

Wu Xi stood up: "Would the Emperor allow me to demonstrate?"

He Lianpei busily nodded and said: "Good, do you need any supplementary items?"

Wu Xi didn't talk, his exposed eyes curving slightly for a moment, as if he was smiling, but Jing Qi couldn't help but frown. When Wu Xi turned around, he just so happened to meet Jing Qi’s frowning gaze. He only then noticed that standing next to the emperor of the Central Plains, body slightly turned to the side, there was a not very conspicuous child. But Wu Xi just slightly glanced at him, turned and walked two steps, and stopped in front of the Official of the Ministry of Rites, Jian Sizong.

Wu Xi looked up with a curved eyes that were large and black, pressing his hands to his chest as if giving a polite greeting. Jian Sizong did not know what he meant, and only frowned while trying to size him up.

Suddenly, Jian Sizong felt that something was wrong, as there seemed to be something blinding his eyes, making his vision unclear. He hurriedly took two steps backwards, a buzzing noise filling his ears, making him look around blankly, unable to recognize the people around him. Jian Sizong knew in his heart that he had fallen into the sorcery of the small child, and he became both scared and furious, angrily pointing at Wu Xi: "You….."

But when he looked again, standing before him was no longer a child with a covered face and black robes, it was clearly a youthful woman in pink clothes. He saw the woman smiling at him, cheeks turning a light shade of pink, her eyebrows lowered, tactfully flirtatious. The tips of her eyes looked like they had grown hooks at the ends, and she looked very much like the famous courtesan of the ancient willow lane, Xiao He Yue.

Jian Sizong’s face immediately turned red.

He saw that the beauty took two steps forward, and reached out to undress, and Jian Sizong wondered, in a public place with so many people, how could there be such a wanton woman who would dare to go so far without shame? He was about to stop her, but suddenly realized that there was not a single other person in sight. In the empty hall, the crowd of officials and ministers had disappeared. Only he and the woman were left.

Looking again, where even is the main hall, this is clearly the "Smoke Tower" covered with red silk.

The woman who deeply resembled Xiao He Yue came deceptively close, her outer garment mostly undone, her soft breasts half-exposed, a bright cinnabar mole showing in her chest area. Her eyes were hazy, seeming shy and resentful, circulating with different feelings, but looking again, they disappeared, only leaving a pair of watery almond eyes.

Seeing this scene, Jian Sizong felt heat start flowing through his lower abdomen, his three souls and seven mortal forms were already mostly scattered, and he could not help but reach out and embrace the beauty.

He felt that the person in his arms was struggling to push and refuse, adding even more soul-melting charm. He couldn’t wait to be with her and fall in the warmth of the red silk to go to Wushan with the clouds and rain.

At this time, he heard a chuckle in his ear, and the chuckling person seemed to be a child. The sound was a little bit sharp, but very cold, and when entering the ears, it felt like it pierced the heart and caused it to tremble.

Jian Sizong was actually scared into a cold sweat, his continuous rubbing against the women was suddenly stopped, and his eyes widened.

He only felt a pain in his chest, then was forcefully pushed away.

Jian Sizong looked up, and standing there was not the Xiao He Yue of the Smoke Tower, but was clearly a meaty body, with a face full of wrinkles and a sunken mouth, the Minister of Revenue, Zhao Mingji, Master Zhao!

Everyone in the room was dumbstruck.

Originally, when seeing Wu Xi inexplicably going to find Jian Sizong who had just caused him trouble, the reasons seemed very unclear. At that time, the two stood two feet apart, staring at each other in hostility for a moment, before they saw that Jian Sizong suddenly moved back two steps, reaching out to point with one finger, but before actually lifting it, he had already put it back down.

Then his eyes squinted unblinkingly at the empty hall in front of him, no one knowing what he saw. Everyone watching seemed to observe that his face obscenely started to flush red, and then this most rule-abiding and old-fashioned person started laughing like “Hee hee,” saliva flowing out of the corner of his mouth, a vulgar expression in his eyes, the absolute opposite of his normally uptight and honorable self.

Everyone's eyes pinned straight on him, and He Lianpei leaned forward out of his chair, very much wanting to get closer and see this scene more clearly.

Then, Jian Sizong suddenly made an even scarier move. He actually opened his arms and pounced on the person next to him like a fierce tiger, embracing Zhao Mingji!

In all honesty... th-th-that master Zhao Mingji, even if his face couldn’t frighten the heaven and earth, it could at least frighten some demonic beings and scare a couple children, but Minister Jian was embracing him as if he was the most beautiful woman in the world. The expression on his face was extremely lewd, but just embracing might have been okay if he didn’t also start groaning and moving his hands up and down, his mouth stammering "Xiao He Yue", "Darling,” ceaselessly.

He Lianpei was stupefied, and after a while, he blankly said: "This… where did all this come from? Ah, Official Jian Ai, even if for Master Zhao, for Master Zhao, you always had this kind of admiration, you should not ignore the fact that he has a wife and children!"

Jing Qi was worried he might fall down headfirst.

His Majesty the Emperor’s outburst astonished everyone, again confusing all of the officials whose wits had just began to return to normal. Jing Qi quietly took two steps back, and his eyes fell on the sorcerer youth.

Just a few moments ago he already felt that this brat had demonic energy, and it turned out that he really did know some sorcery. This small poisonous creature was already so full of revengeful spirit at a young age, he would really become a force to be dealt with in the future.

As he moved back, he just happened to see He Lianyi look up and over in the direction of Wu Xi. Jing Qi saw that the calm face of the teenager flashed with killing intent.

At this time, if there was still no one who would come out and speak, things would escalate into a big problem, and Jian Sizong was the backbone of the oldest prince’s faction. Having just finally recovered his spirit, He Lianzhao stood up and shouted furiously: "Father Emperor, under the eyes of the public, a court official of the imperial household was ridiculed, what should be done?!"

This furious shouting finally blasted everyone awake, Zhao Mingji’s face was choked purple, but with his body that had the strength of a dried and salted fish, he could not push away the suddenly forceful Jian Sizong. He hurriedly struggled and refused and yelled, but the other side did not respond, and his clothes were even partially torn apart.

"Audacious!"

"This is dishonoring respectable people, really humiliating!"

"Still no one is coming to drag this evildoer out of here!"

The sound of one after another seemed to explode into a boil, and He Lianpei coughed and gave Wu Xi a difficult look. Of course, he couldn’t really have Wu Xi dragged out. The sorcerer youth was eccentric, but he was still a child. He was a benevolent and righteous ruler, how could he be narrow-minded and lower himself to become like a young child?

Besides …... besides, this show of sorcery was truly a problem that was a product of his own curiosity, in any case He Lianpei could not hit himself in the face, so he forcefully slapped the table and shouted: "What are you being so noisy for?!"

This was the emperor after all, so the passion and excitement of the crowd of officials immediately stagnated, and they kneeled uniformly. Wu Xi smiled and also kneeled, but he kept his waist and back quite straight.

Only He Lianzhao, even though currently kneeling, dared to call loudly: "Father Emperor! Father Emperor, Minister Jian is a longstanding official of Daqing, a person of virtue and prestige, this... this is to forcing him hit his head on the pillar of the Main Hall and die, Father Emperor!"

He Lianpei coughed lightly and said to Wu Xi: "This ... South Xinjiang sorcerer youth, this indeed is unacceptable behavior, would you hurry and remove the spell on Master Jian? I have seen that the sorcery from South Xinjiang is just like this."

But Wu Xi replied: "Emperor, this is just a small trick, I simply cast a kind of love spell, which is called ‘An Inch of Fairy Footsteps’ where we are from. Whoever it is cast on will see the person who they are thinking about in their heart. Where we are from, thinking about someone means you want to be with someone, isn’t that right? Why would he want to hit his head and die?”

"This..." He Lianpei touched his nose and could only say vaguely, "The Central Plains is a civilized place, which is naturally different from the place where you are from. After you settle here, you will naturally be assigned a gentleman to teach you to read and reason. Then you will understand, some things... Some things can't be done in public."

Jing Qi turned his face to the side and almost broke down because of the emperor’s sentence – “Can’t be done in public.”

Actually, He Lianpei could also be considered to have a good temperament, with a little bit of compassion and good feeling. If he wasn’t sitting on this imperial chair, he might actually be an interesting person.

Wuxi finally nodded: "So it turns out that it can’t be done in front of people, I understand now."

This one sentence pierced the heart of an innumerable amount of people present, feeling like this evil creature from South Xinjiang was truly dreadful, having poisonous thoughts from such a young age, always ridiculing people when speaking, he was clearly full of evil ideas and undisciplined.

They only saw Wu Xi reaching out his hands, patting a few times with a strange rhythm, sneering. Jian Sizong seemed to have been hit with martial arts, abruptly becoming motionless, Zhao Mingji took the opportunity, breathing roughly, he pushed him away as if fighting for his life.

Jing Qi actually became interested this time. Others didn’t know, but Jian Sizong was a core person in the eldest prince’s association, and in the previous lifetimes had helped He Lianyi sweep clean all his brothers, and he had seen and heard all of these atrocious deeds with his own eyes and ears. Naturally, he knew what kind of person this supposedly righteous Jian Sizong was, but it was a pity that in his last life, the world was a place where people would fight in the dark, and there was no superior master who fought regardless of the situation like this South Xinjiang sorcerer youth, creating this lively and cacophonous scene.

He appeared to be ignorantly standing next to the emperor and pretending not to exist, but in his heart he was rejoicing in the other’s misfortune, and was imagining how this Minister Jian would react after waking up.

Zhao Mingji furiously pointed at Jian Sizong, his entire body shaking and his face swollen, and even the thousands of wrinkles on his face seemed to be flattened, but no words came out of his mouth for a long time.

Speaking of which, the party struggle between the major factions of the country seemed to have already reached a finale, but after all is said and done, not everyone can find people who share their vile habits.

There are inevitably some people who aren’t cared for by their grandmas or loved by their uncles or even acknowledged by dogs, relying on no one, not fond of anyone, mouth always spurting blood, biting whoever they catch. Unfortunately, that Master Zhao is such a person. It is pitiful that Zhao Daren always bites people, opening his bloody mouth like a sacrificial bowl, and biting determinedly and ferociously, but as he now tried to rack his brains to figure out how to righteously curse this person who should be cursed, looking for the perfect way to condemn this blackened person, he was so angry that he couldn’t speak any human words.

He could only tremble uncontrollably.

Jing Qi thought, with this kind of temperament, this person will probably escalate this stupid situation and then start knocking himself on a pillar.

Sure enough, he saw Master Zhao bellow furiously: "This shameless villain! This righteous-looking group full of robbers and prostitutes managed to laze their way into the Imperial Hall, insulting an imperial official! I, Zhao Mingji, may be untalented, but I’ve definitely read a few books, and I know what is proper and honest! It is beneath me to be associated with this cunning, immoral plot!"

After this frenzied outburst, he indeed ran headfirst towards the stone pillar of the hall. Fortunately, Master Zhao was no longer young, and did not have the old but vigorous spirit of Minister Jian, so he ran slowly and was chaotically pulled back by the people standing.

Zhao Mingji kneeled on the floor, with intermittent bouts of snot and crying, howling things like “This saint has been disrespected,” “From now on I will no longer have face”......

It turned out that when this man started to cause a disturbance, it was not much better than a woman, and He Lianpei’s brains were almost exploded by this scene, his face emaciated.

Jing Qi then thought, after such a long disturbance, Jian Sizong probably should have come to his senses, this time it was Minister Jian’s turn to hit the pillar.

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