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quintessencewrites · 1 year

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My Love, My Fury

ShuRiri x OC (Sade Davis)

The ship becomes official!!!!!

Warnings: so much fluff, you'll die. Implied smut. Explicit language.

Word Count: 3.5k+

TW: Mention of Panic Attacks

Tags: @letitias-fav @sweetalittleselfish-honey @zestgodtj @becauseimswagman1 @iloveours @k3nn3dyxo @dayjlovesromance

Translations: sithandwa sam-my love; usana-baby; intombi entle-beautiful girl; umsindo wam-my fury; ilangatye lam-my flame.

A/N: Two stories back to back? I spoil yall. I really love this one and how it turned out. It makes my little heart happy <3

“When will you be back?” I whined into the phone. A deep chuckle sounded from the other end. “Soon, sithandwa sam. I’m sorry it's taken so long.”

Shuri and I’s second date had been postponed for going on two months. She had business that needed to be attended to back in the country she ruled and left Boston in a haste.

In the time she’d been gone, we’d grown much closer. Not an hour passed without a text, not a day without a call. It was lovely, falling in love with the sweet royal. I was just growing tired of the long distance.

“Yeah, hurry on up back so she can stop whining,” Riri’s voice sounded from between my thighs. I take the comb in my hand and pop her on the scalp. “Shut up,” I say, roughly taking a handful of hair and cornrowing it tightly to her head.

“Owwww, ma! Geez, braid my hair, not my thoughts,” she winces, throwing her hands up in pain.

“Why can’t you just admit that you miss me?” Shuri asks Riri, fake hurt seeping into her words.

“I miss you, your highness,” Riri seethes, knowing Shuri hates the royal titles. The Queen scoffs just as Okoye calls for her in the background. “I’ll be back soon, my loves,” she offers sweetly, then hangs up the phone.

The heat barely has time to travel to my cheeks before Riri teases “Wipe that blush from ya face.”

I pout, “But it makes me look so cute,” and I kiss the top of her head. She returns the gentle kiss to the inside of my thigh while my fingers continue to stitch a pattern into her hair.

“We should go out tonight,” Riri speaks suddenly.

I pause. “Go out where?”

“I dunno, I just want to see you get pretty for me,” she says with a quick bite to the same thigh she’d kissed just moments again.

“Ooh,” I exclaim. “Let’s go to Mjölnir!”

“What? That club downtown?”

“Yeah,” I respond, legs bouncing in excitement. “We haven’t been yet. We can even invite Honey and Iris. Make it a double date.”

Riri releases my grip from her hair and guides my hand to her lips, planting a kiss on it. “Okay, ma,” is all she says and I smile like a kid on Christmas Day.

My Ri’s hair doesn’t take long to finish, being braided back into her signature cornrows with a cute ass heart stitched into the side. She stands to admire my work in the mirror and returns to me with a grin so large, I know it hurts.

“Thank you, baby. Got me looking right,” she sings to me, planting kisses all across my face. I let a giggle slip from my lips and grumble an mhm behind my smile.

I try to stand up and loosen the muscles that have been locked into place due to hours of sitting, but Riri pushes me back into the bed.

“Let me pick out your outfit, baby.”

My brows raise at the request. “Riri,” I start slowly. “Keep in mind we’re going to a club, not church. You can’t cover me up just because you don’t want other people looking.”

My Riri rolls her eyes. “I can do what I want,” she states loudly with a big kiss on my lips. “But I got you.” Another string of mumbled mhm’s leave me and while Riri rummages through my closet, I text Honey the details for tonight.

It takes no time for them to reply with a thumbs-up emoji, followed by a quick ‘See you at 9.’

I’m getting ready to shoot Shuri a text as well but Riri distracts me, dumping a pile of clothes onto my lap.

“Okay,” she starts. “These are all contenders, but I think I gotta see them on you before I can choose.”

“You want me to try all these on?”

“Yup,” she grins. “Come, be my little runway model.”

I slide on and slip off every single piece of clothing Riri has laid out for me. None of them are good enough until I step away from the mirror wearing a diamond-studded corset top and a black leather skirt so short, it barely contains my thick thighs and round rump.

I face my girl and ask exasperatedly, “What about this one?” I’ve somehow rendered my poor Riri speechless and I swear her pupils are shaped like hearts. All she can do is nod. I chuckle at her reaction and check the clock on the wall.

“Ri, it's 8 o’clock. We still gotta find you something to wear.” Upon hearing the time, she snaps out of her trance. A sly look flashes across her face so quickly, I thought I’d imagined it.

She rises from my bed and offers a quick peck to the tip of my nose, then my waiting lips, and finally my blushing cheeks. “Finish getting ready, ma. I’ll meet you there, okay?”

“Okay,” I whisper, wishing her lips lingered on mine just a little while longer, but she’s already out the door.

I sit at my vanity and plug in my flat iron, quickly refreshing my bra-strap-length silk press. It takes me several tries to glue the full, mink lashes to my lash line, and by then, the clock reads ‘8:40’.

I glance down at my phone and realize I hadn’t heard from Shuri since our phone call hours ago. A panic rises through me as the memories of my Riri being missing just months prior take over my mind.

What if Shuri was hurt? Or had been kidnapped? Or worse?

I try calling, but I’m greeted with her voicemail immediately. I try Riri and get the same outcome. The panic attack is wrecking my body with a vengeance, my breathing failing me. I lean against the wall, hoping it’ll provide me some balance, but my legs give up and I slide to the ground.

I curl up and hug my knees, desperately trying to pull myself back to reality. It’s not the first time one of these attacks visited me; it's not even the worse.

They’d started when Riri was missing and became frequent when Shuri came into the picture. That’s when the realization hit me. I was in love with two people who had the most dangerous jobs in the world.

Sure, Riri hadn’t suited up as Iron Heart in months, but Namor had gone after her before Iron Heart even existed.

She was just my Riri and the Black Panther was just my Shuri.

And I could lose either of them at any time.

I heard the door to my bedroom open and Honey’s voice ring out, “Corazóne, let’s goooo! We’re meeting the girls at the club and-“ They spot me on the floor.

“Help. Help,” I gasp out, panicking worse at the realization that I will not be able to pull myself out of this one.

Honey dives to the ground, reaching me in seconds.

“Hey,” they say gently, grabbing my face. “I’m here, you’re here. We’re okay, you’re okay.”

“Riri,” I get out. “And Shuri-“

Honey’s fingers run through my hair, eyes glued to me and trying to mask the fear running through their veins. “Riri’s okay. I just talked to her. She and Iris are already downtown, waiting on us. And Shuri’s on a mission.”

They quickly continue, seeing my eyes grow large with worry. “A peaceful, non-lethal, super easy mission, Riri’s exact words.” I nod and Honey switches their breathing to a guided one that we’ve practiced together.

I mimic them and though it takes some time, my breathing returns to normal and I’m calmed.

Honey helps me to my feet. “It’s time for you to see a therapist, Sade.”

I don’t respond, instead following Honey out the door and down the stairs to their usual parking spot. We make it all the way to their white Dodge Charger, Honey’s most prized possession, before I speak.

“I don’t have time to see a therapist, Hon.”

“Then make time,” they say sternly. “These are getting serious.”

We arrive at the club and as soon as I open my door, preparing to leave the car and this conversation, Honey reaches across me and shuts it back.

I open my mouth to protest, but Honey speaks first. “I love you, Sade. You’re my best friend and I’m worried. Either you see a therapist, or I tell Shuri and Riri.”

They’re not bluffing; I’ve never seen Honey’s eyes set so harshly.

“Okay,” I say, defeated. “I’ll make the appointment tomorrow.”

“Promise me,” Honey urges. “I promise.”

Honey nods, contempt with my response and we finally make out way into the club, which is filled to the brim with bodies upon bodies.

Iris rushes Honey, easily spotting their tall figure among the crowd. I’m struggling to find my Riri until I feel a pair of hands on my ass and a whisper in my ear. “Damn, ma. Gonna let me take you home tonight?”

I turn to face the jokey girl and roll my eyes. Riri greets me with a kiss. “Come dance with me.”

We head to the crowded dance floor, hand in hand. She’s standing in front of me, moving her body to the beat, and I get a good look at my sexy girl. She’s wearing a top that barely qualifies as such, really just being a bralette of stringed gems and crystals and high-waisted black, leather pants that hug her body in such a way, my mouth waters.

I join her in gyrating, letting the music control my movements. We bounce along to New Freezer by Rich the Kid and Kendrick Lamar, the whole club swaying like bobbleheads.

The music slows down and Riri rotates me so my back is pressed to her front, her hands locked in at my hips, guiding them to move to the song just how she likes. We move in sync for several moments when Riri’s breath tickles my ear, “I’m gonna grab us some drinks. Keep dancing, ma. I’ll be right back.”

I allow a breathy “Okay” in response and do as I’m told, my lonesome body just swaying to the lyrics. Seemingly no time has passed before Riri returns, except it's not my Riri. I know that immediately. My head meets this person’s chest, instead of what would be Riri’s lips due to our height.

I look down at the stranger’s hands snaked around my waist and spot a tattoo that my Riri does not have, I gasp, mentally connecting the tattoo to its owner. Spinning harshly, I see her. In-person. At this club, dancing with me.

“SHURI,” I shriek. She kisses my nose. “Hello, usana.”

“How?” I ask, unable to form the words to ask a complete sentence. Riri suddenly appears from behind our Queen’s back. “Me, duh.” Shuri rolls her eyes at Riri’s smart remark. “She helped, but it wasn’t her idea to surprise you. It was-“

“Mine, thank you very much.” Honey and Iris appear out of nowhere. My eyes well at Honey’s confession. “I know you’ve been needing them lately. Both of them,” they state sincerely.

I throw myself at my dear friend, not being anywhere near tall enough for the hug to reach around her neck, but enveloping her abdomen in my arms instead.

When I pull away, Shuri reaches for both mine and Riri’s hands. “Let’s leave, eh? I want to catch up with my girls.”

“Uh, officially, nobody’s anybody’s anything,” Riri rings out, warranting another eye roll from Shuri. “Why must you be so difficult?” She asks. To me, she speaks gently, “Would you like to leave, intombi enntle? We can leave Riri here since she’s not officially anybody’s anything.” Her American accent presented itself in the later part of her sentence, mocking my Riri.

It earns a laugh from me and I reply, “Let’s go, my Queen.” Shuri groans at the formality just as Riri “Aht, Aht”’s us. “Y’all not leaving me,” and she joins us in walking towards the exit, as I turn and wave goodbye to Honey and Iris.

Outside, awaiting us is a blacked-out Lexus LS 500 and Shuri beams at it in pride, opening the door for Riri and me. “Where are we going?” I ask as the ride begins.

“The hotel room I’ll be staying in while I’m here. I’d love for you two to join me.”

“You too good for our dorm rooms?” Riri challenges and Shuri doesn’t hesitate before responding. “Yes,” she answers seriously and I laugh at Riri’s shock at the quick comeback.

The drive is quick, though it's spent with Riri and Shuri sparring back and forth. When we reach the hotel, Shuri hands the keys over to the valet and we make our way through the lobby and into the glass elevator that seems like it’ll never reach the top.

When it finally does, we step off and follow Shuri to a large, gold door. She unlocks it and we’re greeted by a large room bigger than my entire suite and Riri’s room put together. There’s a bed so large, it could fit ten Honey’s laid across, head to toe.

Riri beelines straight for it and flops her body down. “It’s so soft,” she groans. Shuri smiles in return. “There are robes in the bathroom for you to sleep in. Shower and get comfortable, then I have gifts for both of you.”

Riri perks up at the mention of gifts. “What’d you get us?”

“You are so hard-headed,” Shuri sighs and sits, legs spread and arms beckoning me towards her. I stand between her legs, facing her and she wraps her long arms around my waist, looking up at me. “Sade, usana, what did I just say? Riri must’ve not heard.”

I shake my head. “Shower first, Ri. C’mon,” I say, breaking free of Shuri’s hold and pulling my shirt over my head. My breasts bounce free from the constricting fabric and both girls’ eyes are on me. I head to the bathroom and Riri follows obediently.

“Wait, you two are gonna shower together?” Shuri asks, broken from the hypnosis my body had on her.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Riri teases, closing the door behind us.

The shower what’s mostly innocent, Riri just stealing a few kisses and gentle touches where she could. We emerge from the steamy room and see Shuri seated on the bed, blazer removed, and black sports bra on display.

“Come, sit.”

I sit down first, curiosity and excitement getting the best of me. Riri sits behind me and effortlessly pulls my body into her lap. Shuri hands us each a small box that holds some weight. I look at the etching on mine, in awe at the beauty of the symbols.

“They’re kimono beads. I invented them myself,” Shuri speaks proudly. “They’re a better way to keep in contact with me so I can finally get rid of this Bast-forsaken phone..”

“What’s it say,” I ask. Shuri’s smile grows genuine and she responds, “Sade, sithandwa Sam. Sade, my love in my country’s alphabet.”

"What about mine?" Riri questions.

“Riri, umsindo wam. Riri, my fury. Because you fuel a fire and a passion that I’d thought I lost.” Shuri turns back to me. “And you, my love, because you showed me a love that I have never felt and you opened me up to a side of myself that I didn’t know existed.”

Even Riri was silent as we listened to Shuri’s words. The Queen grabs the bracelet and my hand, slipping the beads onto my wrist and kissing my open palm before speaking again.

“Sithandwa sam, I know I officially still owe you a second date,” she begins. “But my heart can not wait any longer. Will you be mine, my love?” The butterflies that previously fluttered in my stomach were now full-on swarming,

I try to speak, but the words are trapped in my throat; all I could do was nod as a big, stupid grin spread across my face. Shuri’s expression matched mine and she turned to Riri. “And you, my fury, ilangatye lam. Will you be mine as well?”

Poor Riri was speechless for the second time that night, maybe the second time in her life. A silent moment passes, and Shuri’s eyes begin to fill with worry until Riri finally speaks.

“Yeah, yeah. Absolutely,” she chokes out. Shuri’s smile is wider than I’d ever seen, every single pearly white on display. The Queen jumps from the bed, first pounding in the air in excitement. She smiles brightly at us. “You have no idea how stressed I’ve been about doing that.” She practically skips to the bathroom. “I’m going to take my shower, then we can finish our night and rest.”

Shuri shuts the bathroom door, leaving Riri and me in silence. She finally asked, I thought to myself. I was officially dating the Queen of Wakanda, the freaking Black Pan-.

“How long have you been having panic attacks?” Riri interrupts my thoughts. My head whips around to her. “What?”

“C’mon now, baby. It’s your eyes that don’t work, not your ears.” I gulp. “I don’t know what Honey told you, but-,“ I start, but Riri speaks over me again.

“Honey didn’t have to say shit, baby girl. I’ve known you for how long? I know when something’s wrong and you’re not as slick at hiding them as you think you are.”

Ugh, damned Riri. This was not the conversation to be having right now.

“I’m fine, Ri. They’re just little panic attacks,” I say dismissively.

“Panic attacks?” Shuri questions, returning to the room and walking to the bed. Shit, I hadn’t heard her leave the bathroom. Her worried eyes survey my body. “You’re having panic attacks, sithandwa?”

“No,” I retort as an angry Riri chimes in “Yes! So bad that Honey found her on the floor today, barely breathing.”

“So you did talk to Honey?”

“I knew about the panic attacks before I spoke to her, Sade.”

I wince, my name sounding foreign coming from Riri’s mouth.

“Why are you having panic attacks?” Shuri asks, sitting on the other side of me. Between the interrogation and the feelings airing around us, I feel trapped and give them the answer they weren’t expecting.

“Because of you two,” I cry.

Silence, finally.

I continue, hoping to clarify and relieve their faces of the hurt expressions I’d just caused. “Because you two almost died before and you live a life where it can happen again at any moment, and I’m so afraid of when that moment comes.”

Riri hugs my sobbing body from behind, resting her head on the blade of my back.

“Baby,” she starts.

“Don’t ‘baby’ your way out of this. You actually fucking died, Riri.”

She ponders my words and Shuri takes it as her turn to speak. She takes ahold of my face, wipes away my tears, and sighs.

“My love, we will not leave you. In death or in life. You give us a reason to be more careful, and more precise in every battle. Because I’ll be damned if I don’t make it out of a fight alive and miss my chance to come home and see this face.” She plants a kiss on my lips.

Riri chimes in, “Baby, I didn’t die in Wakanda because I knew I had to get back to you. We got you cheering us on and we got each other to protect. You don’t have to worry about us.”

I sniffle, “I know I don’t have to, but that won't stop me from worrying.”

“I know, my love. I know,” Riri speaks, planting kisses on my back. Shuri gently grabs my wrist and points to the beads adorning it. “These are an extension of my heart. Literally. You can see mine and Riri’s vitals in real-time and we can see each other's, as well as yours. I added it as a precaution. We aren’t leaving you, I promise.”

The night ends with Shuri sleeping soundly to my left and Riri sprawled out wildly to my right. I can’t shut off my mind and have trouble falling asleep. I leave the bed and head to the balcony attached to the room, enjoying the night air. I’ve always loved the night, being more drawn to the darkness and the moon than the sunniest of days.

The sound of the glass door sliding open pulls me from my thoughts and a tired-looking Riri steps out into the night with me. She pulls me from my seat, takes it for herself, and places me on her lap.

We sit quietly, feeling the warm summer breeze caress our skin. Riri plays with my fingers, the same way she always did when she was nervous. “What are you thinking about?” I prompt, causing Riri to drop my hand, realizing I picked up on her tell.

“I’m-,“ she hesitates. “I’m thinking of a cute way to ask you to be my girlfriend.”

I chuckle and turn around in her lap, facing and straddling the girl. “Riri, I’m already your girlfriend,” I state obviously.

“Did you miss the last few hours? We could wake Shuri up and recreate it,” I flirt. Riri’s usually playful eyes aren’t looking so playful right now. She’s serious.

“Shuri asked us both, so yeah, we’re her girlfriends, but what about you and me?”

“What about us?” I counter. My Riri sighs and begins to lift me from her lap. “Never mind, Sade.”

I bare my weight down on her legs and grab her face, bringing her eyes to mine. “First of all, stop using my government name. That’s not a habit you bout to pick up.” Riri nods at my words, caught off guard by the intensity.

“Secondly,” I start, holding her face gentler and wrapping her arms around me. “I thought our relationship was implied, Ri. I didn’t know you needed a title on it. Neither of us asked the first time, we just started referring to the other as ‘girlfriend’.”

She doesn’t speak, doesn’t even look at me. I bring her gaze back up. “Riri Williams, you are my fury. Not a single soul that walks this earth can ignite the anger and passion and drive and love that you bring out of me.

“It’s orgasmic. It’s my natural high. It’s a feeling that I never, ever want to live without again. Can I call you my girlfriend?”

Riri’s cheeks are on fire underneath my palms and the smile on her face is contagious.

“Yes, my love."

Masterlist

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agrebel18 · 1 year

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(ship hate ahead, feel free to delete the ask if you don't like it) Since we're sharing our fandom confessions: I FUCKING HATE H///NTR///C.

Don't get me wrong, I adore both Hunter and Edric, i think they're very nice and funny (although i have a softer spot for Hunter) but seeing them together makes my blood boil. I know it's very immature, but I block the tags about them and stuff and don't interact with its shippers

but man I don't see why that's even a think to begin with. They interact once (1) and have no chemistry, the ship just exists because people hate Willow and have a weird bias against straight ships (even though Hunter and Willow are bi4pan, fight me on that)

AHAHAHAHAHA I HAVE THE TAG FILTERED TOO😭😭😭

I never saw the deal between them even back when Hunter and Willow never interacted, it feels like the same thing as Steve and Eddie together but probably worse since Steve and Eddie actually interacted, and I don’t have any bad feelings towards the ship because they’re both teenagers but a while ago I kept finding people who shipped them together hate on Willow FOR NO REASON AT ALL AND EVEN CALLED HER OVERRATED??? so yeah, I don’t want anything to do with them tbh, but no hate to my friends who like them together, yall are fine!

Lastly, yes they are both bi4pan and demi4demi to me🥰🥰🥰🥰 (if one of them gets confirmed as queer I PERSONALLY think it should be hunter because of his bisexual rainbow on his sweater in ttt and I’m tired of people ignoring it😭) but if it was Willow then I don’t mind either because that girl IS NOT STRAIGHT TO ME😭 or it could be both, idrc

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adhbombus · 4 months

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LOUD SCREAMING HOLY SHIT AAAAAAAA

To try to dictate my thoughts first of all zombie plot hell yeah dude the puff ball and golf ball scene amazing

Pie fucking Pie cameo I love her dammit dictation isn’t picking up my words correctly. It’s making me so angry because I’m already full of emotions from the episode. Hello the numbers are canon and one is here they were in the fucking moon

So nine skateboard and I haven’t seen them skating since they lost their shades, so I’m wondering if Four just stole it and kept it in the art room I like the conclusion of eraser in teardrops rivalry, ending similar to what Blocky and Woody had

I am loving the friendship that Junior and eight ball has, as well as David and Roboty

I love that Two’s elimination area kind of resembles the Hey Two song’s art style. And don’t get me started Gaty caring a lot about Two. In my previous post intentioned that for an ex, and Clark’s little fishing trip is very gay and silly. It was a nice absurd joke break for the seriousness of the episode. I loved when rubber spatula recovered snowball just to bite him and fuck dude the spotty Wi-Fi in the steakhouse causing fuck sorry I just remembered that the flash back scene said April 2020 and one exploding out of the moon is present day so a lot of shit happened between that three years of shit to be specific. Oh my fucking God I screamed so loud that reveal it’s literally almost midnight. I have a sore throat there are people sleeping in the adjacent rooms and the baby in the house. I am the worst housemate ever fucking hell. I tell you what the episode genuinely tired me out from all of the emotions and I’m ready to go to bed, but can we talk about Pen and Eraser I’m so ready to put TV on my shipping chart. She’s already on there with robot flower as mechanical minds gods and robot flower teaming up with the zombies. Hilarious.

David and Roboty the sillies he cares so much. Also, I think it’s interesting That Bracelety understands him they’re on the same wave length good for them good for them and fucking Match and Pencil. My girlies got split up but it’s okay because they can spend as much time together when they get out as they want. And judging by the timeline, they’ve probably escaped by now and are having their gay little lesbian dates and trying to smooth things over with Bubble with Ruby‘s help and Flower too they were probably so confused about Flower being such a different person than she was when they were eliminated.

Yall, I’m so fucking autistic about these gay ass inanimate fucking objects and I love it. I was literally biting my cushion while watching the episode. I stopped drawing I dropped my tablet. It’s OK though nothing broke. It was not that big of a fall. Fuck guys I have a headache. And that’s all the thoughts I have for now I didn’t hear it probably because I was screaming, but One said something because they have a voice credit at the end of the Stinger.

After I’ve decided that I’m done with this I’m going to peruse the spoilers tag for yummy yummy content and try to be quiet

#bfdi #bee talks #tpot #tpot spoilers

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mistytwooo · 5 months

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Personal posts

Kink shaming

Rip sub Edward Cullen

Cunty stiles

Petty writers who want to make us suffer

Minor police

Ppl weird obsession w/ making things submissive and child like (avatar

Eren being bulky

Sub Billy Hargrove x fem reader is so hard to find

Fems being submissive to the most submissive women in the franchise (wlw)

Rip Neteyam lil nigga died too soon

My filtered tags

Enough with the stepcist smut, get help

Petition for black ocs in the twilight fandom

Tag your shit sub reader so I can scroll pass that hoe

Avatar is dying, yall are fake fans

Ageing up Neteyam

Funk booty ships I don’t like

Dear fanfic writers, make a masterlist I’m tired of suffering

Literally all of Robert Patterson characters are submissive twinks with anger and self image issues

Petition to stop making y/n a bitch

Bella and Jacob’s age gap

Aggressive sub apocalypse

We need sub Edward Cullen

Ppl who write abt real life perverts

JACOB IS THE REAL VICTIM HERE UMMM HELLO????

Are avatars/navi packing or nah???

Edward being Mormon

Ship shaming Peter Parker and Tony stark 🤢

The real enemy’s to lovers (Jacob and Edward.)

Tag your shit reblog page is finally up and running

Reblog stuff on your dump page (like this one.) unless it’s about freeing Congo and Palestine

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bluiex · 2 years

Note

Tbh? This is the most positive when it comes to the shipping side of things I ever seen!

I’m so glad about it, because sometimes it gets tiring when it comes to ship wars and stuff.

Also everyone here, every single anon is so positive of things!

Hugs for everyone

- Conductor Anon

Ain't nothing wrong with shipping c! (so long as it isnt against the cc's boundaries that is) BUT i'm so happy this is a positive and safe space for all us who enjoy the shipping<333 I refuse to let any of the bad stupid drama shit in here. If people have something against Scarian, or hermitshipping.. theres a cool thing called blocking a tag LOL

anyways. YEAH all the anons are so cool and amazing<33 like gaah love yall!!

#bluie gets an ask poggers

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bnha-big-bang · 1 year

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I posted 73 times in 2022

25 posts created (34%)

48 posts reblogged (66%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@bnha-big-bang

@shabby-illustrations

@pato-roldnart

@ananayellow

@magart

I tagged 69 of my posts in 2022

Only 5% of my posts had no tags

#bnha big bang 2022 - 43 posts

#art - 19 posts

#mod skye - 16 posts

#fics from last year! - 12 posts

#2021 fics - 12 posts

#asks - 11 posts

#fic - 9 posts

#bnha - 7 posts

#my hero acadamia - 4 posts

#fandom event - 4 posts

Longest Tag: 48 characters

#talk to your lock (because communication is key)

My Top Posts in 2022:

Tumblr Messaging Issue

Hello!

Due to tumblr having some problems with letting me message and since I'm the pretty tumblr face of this bang, I will have to dm the invite links to people over Discord. Please set your Discord settings to "Everyone can add you" until a mod reaches out with the invite link. We're very sorry for the inconvenience.

-Mod Skye

8 notes - Posted February 6, 2022

Mod Intros: Skye

@timmydrakewings

Name: Skye

Pronouns: they/its

Introduce yourself!

Hi y’all! I’m resident chaos/omnipotent mod! I’m with the Eye and Know All :)

What got you into BNHA?

I started watching it because a bunch of my friends in high school called me Deku when I had short green hair. I really loved the show and have been keeping up with it since!

Who is your favorite character?

Either Shinso or Aizawa rn. Tired beanssss

What’s your favorite romantic ship, if any?

Erasermic but also getting dragged into the explodey boi polycule by Athena

What’s your favorite dynamic?

Hatsume and her babies

What is your favorite arc/episode?

Idk don't make me choose

Which character do you relate to the most?

Aizawa sadly

Anything you’d like to add?

I’m a gremlin of many fandoms. You’ve been warned.

8 notes - Posted January 15, 2022

2022 Interest Checks are Live!

Hi all! The interest checks for the 2022 BNHA Big Bang are here! They’ll be open until February 3rd, with sign ups opening on February 5th. Please fill these out so that we’ll have an idea of how many participants we are going to have! As always our ask boxes and messages are always open and you can find our schedule here and our faq here! We can’t wait to meet y’all!

-Mod Cess

24 notes - Posted January 27, 2022

BNHA Big Bang 2022 Sign-Ups Are Live!

Hey yall!! The sign-ups for the 2022 BNHA Big Bang are here! They'll be open til February 13th so get your signups in! Remember, this is a 16+ event, so please be honest about your age. Also, since this event will be run via discord and will post on tumblr (and ao3 for the writers) we do require that you have an account on each of those platforms.

As always our ask boxes and messages are always open and you can find our schedule here and our faq here! Can't wait to meet yall!

-Mod Skye

32 notes - Posted February 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Hello everyone!!

We're excited go be hosting this event again this year!! It was great working with you last year!

Our Interest Checks open on January 27th, and our Sign Ups start on February 5th. Also, this year the bang will be a 16+ event.

Our ask boxes and messages are always open and you can find our schedule here and our faq here!

Let's all have fun this year!

-Mod Skye

84 notes - Posted January 9, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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katsukizu · 3 years

Text

they’re in a gay polycule & they’re all dating

#bakudeku #bakugou katsuki #bnha #katsudeku #bakugo katsuki #deku #midoriya izuku #kirishima eijirou #mina ashido #todoroki shouto #uraraka ochako #tdbkdk #todobakudeku #todobaku #minatodo #ochamina #kirimina #ochaizu #I’m tired of tagging the ships yall get it

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littlemisslipbalm · 3 years

Text

“you make me so angry sometimes”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He snickers, “Y’like it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S’a little rude.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seriously. What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t see it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So which am I?” She widens her eyes.

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

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

He laughs. “Thanks,” he drawls out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re late!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do not,” she warned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve got it,” Y/N says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s my job to touch you, Harry.”

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

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

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

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

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

He nods again, muttering “Fair, fair.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pauses again and she continues to work silently.

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

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

“Pardon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop that,” She muttered.

“Stop what?” He smiles wider.

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

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

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

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

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever, dude.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry hums and unclenches it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lisa nods, “Apologize.”

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

Lisa smiles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He types back: “Of courseeee”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” he exhales.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yet the effect is similar,” she muses.

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

“Effect?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which part?”

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

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

“You know, so why don’t you?”

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

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

“And what if I don’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nick stays quiet, taking a drag of his cigarette.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I really am sorry,” she whispers again.

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re stubborn,” she notes.

“So are you,” he counters quickly.

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

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

“That’d be nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Passion.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry giggles and scratches his nose against his index finger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great. You?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harry,” she sighs contentedly.

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

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

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

“What?” Harry laughs, confused.

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

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

“How are you?” She continues.

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

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

“The one who’s obsessed with me?”

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

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

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

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

“Oh shut up!” She’s quick to reply.

“So you do?”

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

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

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

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

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

“No one said anything about nudes!”

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

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

“Aww, you’re flustered,” She coos.

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

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

“Because you called me,” he says confidently.

“I call everyone.”

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

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

“Or does it?”

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

“Yes.” She smiles.

“Yes!” He repeats happily.

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

“See you soon, Harry.”

“Not soon enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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todomochi-uwu · 3 years

Text

Of Unspoken Troubles & New Threats (2.5/3)

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x reader

Warnings: Angst, and pls don’t kill me

Author’s Notes: Some of yall are going to be real pissed off and I can feel it in the back of my mind, but I didn’t want to cut it out, I wanted to build up the tension to the maximum! Don’t worry, tomorrow the next and FINALE part will be published, for now enjoy this. (I had already published this, but it wasn’t showing in the tags, and I’m about to cry)

“Take it, not so much of a threat, but as a warning.”

Previous parts: First Second

Since the very first second Ushijima had noticed the sudden raising friendship between you and the Nekoma captain lots of ill-mannered thoughts had started forming in the back of his head. Like, what would happen if he were to spike right into Kuroo’s head when he turned around? Or would it affect much his opponent’s game if he were to, I don’t know, break every single one of his fingers? Fumes seemed to come out of his ears, his spikes were harder than ever, his voice became even lower and the pressure he was putting on his team was becoming a little too excessive.

“What the fuck is up with Ushijima?” Semi said, hand on his knees, barely being able to breathe.

Reon sat on the floor, trying to stabilize himself, “That’s what I want to know, what has got him like this? None of these teams is a threat to us.”

Tendou let out a giggle while throwing his head back in exhaustion, “It appears manager-chan has stroked a nerve in our dear miracle boy.”

“What do you mean?” Shirabu said while trying to crack his spine without causing even more damage.

“Look over there.” The red-haired man pointed to the other side of the gym, where you sat analyzing some of the game plans and notes you had made, while Kuroo sat next to you, chin resting on top of your head, casually caressing your back.

Goshiki furrowed his eyebrows, “What is Nekoma’s captain doing with our manager?”

“I didn’t know they were that close.” Tendou said, “But this new ship seems to be stressing the fuck out of our captain, the poor boy doesn’t know how to react to jealousy, I don’t think he has ever experienced it before, at least not to this extent.”

“Wait! Ushijima san likes Y/N-chan?” Goshiki looked wildered, expressing himself louder than he should.

“Shh, man keep it low! We don’t want lover boy hearing us!” Shirabu smacked the back of the next inline ace.

“So, what’s the plan? Are we going to help them out? Like get them together or something?”

“Nope.” Tendou simply said.

Everyone looked at him confused, did he not want Ushijima to go back to normal? “Don’t get me wrong, all this training is killing me, but I think our ace needs to learn how to take care of his significant other, to know Y/N has a limit no matter how much they love him.”

Goshiki eyes widened in shock, “Wait, wait, wait so they are already…” The harsh smack of a ball made them all turn around, Ushijima was there looking directly at them, the stern look in his face said everything.

“God fucking dammit, I hope all of this is worth it,” Semi said under his breath, everyone agreeing with him in his mind.

Things hadn’t gotten any better, every hour Ushijima only seemed to be getting worse, more laps, more blocks, more sets, it wasn’t until the sound of a whistle was heard all across the room that the entire team sighed in relief.

“Hey, boys! Good job today, I think we have improved, I don’t have any commentaries other than to tell you to please enjoy your meal and rest well, you guys deserve it.” You smiled with sympathy, by the looks in their faces they were about to pass out. Oh Ushijima, what in the hell are you doing? You thought.

As they started scattering around and leaving the gym you noticed that Ushijima was not going with them, “Do you need anything, Ushijima-san?”

“Are we meeting outside at midnight?” He said.

Your eyes lighted up for a second, butterflies flying in your stomach, but the reality was quick to hit you and bring you back to earth, “I don’t have any notes for you to revise, the boys did well today, nothing left for me to say, so no.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “I’m not talking about that.”

“Then why would we meet later? There’s nothing for us to discuss.” You grabbed your things, making sure not to leave anything behind.

“Y/N…” He attempted to stop you.

“Ushijima-san, I highly suggest you going to the cafeteria, you need to recover, they are serving rice and curry today.” You gave him a slight smile.

“Y/N…” He tried again, but this time, someone else entered the scene, interrupting him, “Chibi-chan…” His tone was melodic.

“Kuroo-san.” You greeted him.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were busy.” He said, in faux innocence. “I can come back if you want.”

“No, I was just telling Ushijima we were done with today’s work.” You said rushing out the door, no looking back.

Kuroo could only follow you.

The night was restless, Ushijima kept turning and squirming, anxiety was now invading his dreams, trembles ran down his body, his breathing was agitated and his heart running down miles per hour, his thoughts could not be appeased and he didn’t know what to do. The idea of you leaving him would not abandon his mind; seeing you with another man, laughing, smiling, had taken a toll on him; and to top it all you had rejected him. His mouth was dry and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking, maybe a quick trip to the bathroom would help him calm down.

As quiet as possible, he opened the door, hoping to control his anxiety, only to be met with something that only made him even more nervous. You and Kuroo. In front of the manager’s room, talking quietly but so closely, the sole scene made him want to gag. He stared at you for a couple of minutes before Kuroo finally left you to go inside, and made his way down the hall, to meet with Ushijima.

“Hey Ushiwaka, didn’t see you there, it’s kind of late, go to sleep you must be tired.” The smirk on Kuroo’s face was like a slap in the face to the other captain.

“That manager of yours sure is a hard worker.” Kuroo said, staring directly into the ace’s eyes, “Must be nice to have her, it would be such… a shame if someone were to steal her away, right?” Kuroo said, his tone was dangerous, his words dripped in venom.

Ushijima could only glare at him, no words came out of his mouth.

“Take it, not so much of a threat, but as a warning.” With that, Kuroo left.

The same thing was repeating the next day, no matter how sore Ushijima’s muscles felt, he wasn’t planning on stopping. His head wouldn’t stop repeating last night’s scene. You and Kuroo. Kuroo and you. Late night. Close. Together. It was getting under his skin and he didn´t know how to deal with it, not when you were distancing yourself from him.

“Ushijima I think you should talk to her, this isn’t healthy.” Tendou knows he kind of deserves it, but he couldn’t help but worry for him.

Ushijima didn´t know what to say, “I tried, she rejected me.”

“Make an effort, follow her around just like she always does, you can´t expect her to forgive you if you don´t even try.” Tendou nudged him, trying to cheer him.

Ushijima sighed, conflicted, he knew he had done you wrong, but he wasn’t aware of how bad he had fucked up until now. He was sorry, there was no doubt, but he didn’t know how to express it.

“Gather round boys!” You called out for the team, “For today’s schedule you will be going against, mmm let me check… Oh, Nekoma.” And to this, the entire team had tensed up, even more, fuck, this was going to be a very bad idea.

Nekoma approached, gathering up and stretching out before the “friendly” match, checking out the system they were going to follow throughout the game. Kuroo jogged to your side.

“Should I expect your captain to go all out?” He said.

“Please tell them to be careful, Ushijima is so tense, just as the rest of the boys, so be careful.”

“You sound like you think I’m not capable of blocking out his spikes.” He teased.

“Kuroo.” You warned him.

“I know, I know.” He cracked the back of his head, “Okay, let the match begin.”

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tchallasbabymama · 3 years

Text

Troubled Waters Chapter Four

Hey, yall! Here’s the next chapter of Nia and T’Challa’s journey. I’m super proud of this one (I’m proud of all my work, but still.) With the help of @wordsfromthelivingghost being a bomb ass beta reader, I think this is some of my best work yet. And I’m only gonna get better!

Check out my masterlist to read my other stories (and catch up on this one if you’re new here.) I love when y’all talk to me and share my work so others can discover it, so hit those comment and reblog buttons. Also, be sure to let me know if you want to be tagged in anything. Enjoy!😘

Word count: 8,894

CW: A little blood and cutting but NOT for self-harm reasons. If it bothers you, skip the second half of the scene at Kokou’s temple.

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Nia pressed her cheek to the window, careful not to smudge the thin line of white clay painted down the center of her face. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth hung slightly open as she watched Wakanda zoom by from hundreds of feet in the air. She had always loved seeing what the world looked like from above, but it had been years since she last got to enjoy the view. When she was young, Amare would carry her in his arms as he flew high above the ground to give her a taste of what she so desperately wanted: to feel the wind beneath her nonexistent wings.

T’Challa half-watched Nia from his seat off to the side of the cabin as he flipped through news articles on his kimoyo beads. As they flew over a statue of Bast in her full panther form, he could tell the bright blue light radiating from the tunnel beneath the goddess intrigued her. Her head tilted slightly to the left, and he turned off his beads right as she turned around with a question on her lips.

“That’s Mt. Bashenga,” T’Challa answered prematurely as he stood and made his way over to the window, looking out at his kingdom as Okoye steered the Royal Talon over the Mining province.

“Why’s it glowing?”

“Vibranium.”

“Ohhh.” Nia thought back to the human history books she read as a child that told their story of the founding of Wakanda. Obviously, they had censored the part about aziza, but she still found their revisionist history fascinating. “That’s where the meteorite landed, right?”

T’Challa nodded, impressed by her knowledge.

“Ubaba always said vibranium was ‘the humans’ magic’,” she whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

T’Challa was mildly shocked. He had never considered it that way, but he supposed it was sort of otherworldly what they were able to do with the substance. In comparison to other humans, anyway.

Okoye kept her focus on flying the ship, but T’Challa couldn’t help but spot the slight glow that emanated from Nia’s skin while she ogled the scenery. The king reflected on the description of aziza he had read the day before and remembered that it mentioned their luminous skin. He had noticed that even when she was standoffish towards him, she seemed to radiate light from the inside out, but seeing her literally light up in excitement brought him joy.

When Birnin Zana came into view, Nia’s eyes curiously trailed along the tributaries that moseyed through the metropolis and she was reminded of the magic realm’s big city, Birnin Umlingo. She smiled fondly at how similar they were despite the fact that Birnin Zana was so much bigger. It was nestled between rolling hills and sharp cliffsides, and she was pleasantly surprised to see all the lush greenery dispersed throughout the city. There were small parks everywhere and most of the roofs were topped with well-kept gardens. The skyscrapers and apartment buildings stretched to the sky like the trees that lined the streets, but Nia was almost blinded when the sun bounced off of an impressive structure in the middle of the city. Two almost conical, shining towers spiraled up from an ancient foundation that swirled around the base like the flowing tributary that surrounded most of it like a moat. The towers were connected by a long bridge about a third of the way up and despite her amazement, Nia couldn’t help but wonder why they had to build two towers instead of just one.

“Bast, is that the palace?” She pointed up ahead.

T’Challa smirked proudly. He never tired of seeing the dual vibranium spires that towered over even the tallest skyscrapers throughout the city.

“It is,” he said proudly.

“It’s so big,” she whispered, then turned to look at him. “Does it ever feel empty?”

He furrowed his brows, making a little crease appear between them that Nia found endearing. “How do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just you and your family that live there, right?”

The king nodded.

“Then why do you need so much space? And why two instead of just one? It seems so unnecessary.”

Okoye bit the inside of her lip to keep from snickering at Nia’s sincere inquiries. She wasn’t too keen on Nia and wasn’t quite sure why she was there, but she had worked for T’Challa long enough to know he didn’t like people questioning him.

“I don’t- it’s not just...look.” He pointed back out the window to distract her, and Nia whipped her head around to watch their descent to the landing pad in front of the palace.

The three of them exited the Talon, but instead of entering T’Challa’s gratuitously large home, they made a left and walked through the palace gates and into the bustling streets of Birnin Zana. Nia had been to the big city before when she was young, but it seemed like it had exploded over the last couple of decades. It had always been a busy hub of commerce for the Merchant tribe, but business owners from the other tribes had moved there in droves over the past few years to get a piece of the pie.

The three of them passed through the financial district with ease. Nia kept her neck craned to look up at the tall banks, corporate offices, and massive parking garages filled with hovercars. In the distance, she saw an arena and she wondered what took place there. Did they have many concerts? Sporting events? She made a mental note to ask about that later and continued to take in her surroundings. The maglev trains zooming by high above the street caught her attention, and her eyes widened. She had never been on a train before.

They eventually made it to Three Step Town, the cultural hub of the city and Nia looked on in awe at the various businesses that surrounded them. Once again, she was reminded of Birnin Umlingo as she looked around at the diversity that surrounded her. Most of the older folks were dressed in the traditional clothing of their tribes, but the younger Wakandans seemed to prefer a more modern look. They really were a spectacle. Some people had brightly colored manes and shining vibranium tattoos that decorated their skin, and the sight had Nia’s wheels turning. She had never really experimented much with her look, but they were giving her the inspiration to try something different.

Just as Nia began to ponder what body modification would look good on her, she felt someone grab her and yank her to the side of the street. She began to protest right as a streetcar full of people rolled by. Nia turned to thank her savior, smiling sheepishly when she realized it was Okoye.

“Watch where you’re going,” the general warned harshly and let go of Nia’s arm. The two of them joined T’Challa as he spoke to a snaggletoothed young boy who had proudly shown him the Black Panther action figure that he carried everywhere. The boy’s parents thanked the king for being so polite before they said goodbye and went on their way. Nia’s heart warmed a little at seeing T’Challa be so kind to them. He could have easily ignored the family or had Okoye intervene, but he seemed to enjoy interacting with his people. As the three of them continued on their journey, a small smile pushed up the corners of Nia’s mouth knowing he wasn’t as arrogant as she assumed.

Nia was almost overwhelmed by the many shops they passed by. She could buy anything she wanted: jewelry, instruments, furniture, hats. It seemed like they had everything. However, she came to a halt when they walked by a store with colorful, hand-woven baskets hanging out front. The old lady that ran the shop noticed Nia staring and came forward to help her pick one out, but paused when she saw that the king was standing beside her. She saluted him fondly and turned to face his companion.

“Excuse me, how much for this one?” Nia asked the shopkeep as her fingers ran over the intricate patterns along the sides of a mid-sized sweetgrass basket.

“For you it is free,” the older woman said through a bright smile that crinkled her eyes. Before Nia could protest, she had already taken it down and pushed it into her arms.

“Are you sure? I can pay-”

“Just tell people where you got it,” the woman winked before going back inside to help a customer that was ready to check out.

Nia couldn’t believe how kind the woman had been to give her the gift, but her amazement was cut short by T’Challa leaning in close and ruining the moment.

“Just one of the perks of traveling with the king,” he teased.

Nia rolled her eyes and stepped away from him, continuing down the street with her basket swinging in the crook of her elbow. She had been so caught up in her surroundings that she hadn’t noticed the stares from passersby and began to get a little self-conscious. A few people even snapped a picture or two of the king and his elusive friend, some of which would surely end up on gossip blogs by the end of the day.

Her nervousness was short-lived and quickly got replaced with longing when they turned the corner and walked right through the food district. Not only did the colorful produce stands call to her, but the smells of curries and grilled meats continuously pulled her attention from left to right. However, when a deliciously sweet aroma tickled her nose, she stopped dead in the middle of the road.

“Where is that coming from?” Nia sniffed the air and veered off the main street as she followed the scent to a man that was serving up deep-fried sweet plantain on a stick, drizzled with chocolate. T’Challa kept a close eye on Nia but stayed back and let her wander up to the dessert cart alone. He watched as she engaged the man in conversation and saw her come alive when she tasted the sample he provided her. A small smile crept up the king’s face, but his amusement was cut short by Okoye clearing her throat next to him.

“My king,” she started, and he turned slightly in her direction, nodding for her to continue as he kept his eyes on Nia. “If I may...what exactly is her purpose here with us?”

“Nia is a devotee of Bast, and I believe she may be helpful in our attempts to understand what has happened to her,” he stated matter-of-factly.

Okoye sensed his unwillingness to go further into detail and grew quiet again as Nia damn near skipped back over to them with her hands full.

“Here you go,” Nia sang as she held out two of the desserts for them to take. “He saw I was with the king and gave me three for free!”

Neither of them was hungry, but they just couldn’t say no to her big, childlike eyes.

“Thank you,” T’Challa waved to the man behind the counter and took a bite of the dessert, eyes rolling back in ecstasy. “Mmm”

“See? It’s amazing,” Nia said with a mouth full of plantain. Even Okoye had to agree.

The three of them ate their midmorning snack as they strolled through the streets, eventually making their way to a much quieter section on the outskirts of the busy city center. Just as Nia finished licking the last bit of chocolate from the wooden stick, she came face to face with an ancient-looking stone building that didn’t quite fit the vibe of the modern neighborhood. Her eyes zeroed in on the large statue at the entrance. It was a being with the body of a man and the head of an ibis holding a scroll in one hand and a staff in the other.

“Welcome to the flagship branch of the Wakandan Public Library,” T’Challa said proudly.

While Nia loved a good library, she was a little confused about why they were there. “I thought we were going to a temple.”

T’Challa wiggled his eyebrows as he stepped past her, climbing the steps with Okoye in tow, “This is the temple.”

Nia’s curiosity got the best of her, and she followed behind the king and his general. They threw their sticks away in the trash cans outside of the doors that swished open as they approached. Nia hadn’t expected the building to have such modern technologies based on the look of it, but she surmised the library would have a few more surprises up its sleeves.

“Kumkani wam!”

All three of their heads turned towards the woman behind the large marble desk as she scrambled to salute the king, dropping the small stack of books from her arms. T’Challa quickly rounded the desk and smiled at her as he crouched down to pick the books off of the floor. Before she could stoop down to help him, he had already placed them neatly on the desk.

“T-thank you, my king,” the woman stammered and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Never in her life had she imagined she would be so close to royalty, much less her biggest crush. “What can I do for you?”

“Well…” he started, trailing off to get her name.

“Fatima, sir.”

“What a beautiful name,” he flirted innocently and leaned on the cool marble as Nia and Okoye both fought their eyes from rolling to the ceiling. Okoye was used to his flirtatious manner making women swoon at his feet, but it still irked her to no end. They had a job to do, and he was wasting time. Nia, however, felt the tiniest tinge of something deep in her gut as she watched him make eyes at the beautiful librarian. She waved it off as annoyance since she still wasn’t the king’s biggest fan. Adding “womanizer” to her list of reasons not to like him certainly tipped the scales further away from him, balancing out his actions from earlier.

Fatima giggled as she struggled to make eye contact with the handsome king, “Thank you, your highness.”

“Please, call me T’Challa,” he implored, resting his hand over his heart and flashing his irresistible smile.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t do that-”

“I insist.”

Okoye cleared her throat, and T’Challa’s eyes reluctantly shot in her direction.

“Anyway, Fatima, we were wondering if Abdu is in today,” T’Challa continued as he straightened up and stood to his full height, making Fatima swoon even more in his presence. Her eyes wandered down to his chest, but she snapped out of it and attempted to look him in the eye. Her knees nearly buckled under the intensity of his gaze, but she stood firm.

“Y-yes, he is, my ki-”

T’Challa reprimanded her with a simple raise of his right eyebrow, and she quickly corrected herself.

“I mean, T’Challa,” Fatima giggled once more. “I’ll go get him for you.”

“Thank you, Fatima,” he smiled down at her, watching as she walked away with a pep in her step and her hips twitching just a little more than usual.

Fatima disappeared behind a green velvet curtain, and when they were sure she was out of earshot, Nia and Okoye both turned to look at the king. They wore matching expressions of disapproval, but, for some reason, it stung to see on Nia’s face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her.

“Must you flirt with every woman you see?” Okoye butted in, clearly exasperated by his antics.

Nia’s eyebrows jumped as a teasing smirk settled on her lips. “Oh, so this is a common occurrence?”

“You wouldn’t believe how many-”

“General,” T’Challa warned, and Okoye stopped talking.

Nia tried to contain a laugh, but it came out more like a snort than she intended. Just as T’Challa opened his mouth to make fun of her, Fatima appeared from behind the curtain with a heavy-set man with tortoiseshell glasses just a few steps behind her.

“T’Challa, my boy! Oh, excuse me, my king.” The man bowed sarcastically and crossed his arms in a salute. T’Challa waved him off with a smile and a click of his tongue, and the two men embraced each other. Nia had noticed T’Challa wasn’t really one to demand formalities, but the man’s familiarity with the king intrigued her.

“Abdu, how have you been?”

It had been several months since T’Challa last visited the library. Abdu had worked and worshipped there for decades and had watched the king grow into the man before him. Some of T’Challa’s fondest childhood memories consisted of him spending hours curled up in the stacks, flipping through whatever book caught his eye that day. Abdu would bring him story after story for him to get lost in, and the older man never tired of T’Challa’s curiosity. No matter how many questions he threw at him.

“Getting old, but I can’t complain,” the much shorter man said as they pulled apart. He looked around T’Challa and noticed his company. “Okoye, a pleasure to see you as always.”

“You as well, Abdu,” she smiled.

“And who might this lovely creature be?” Abdu asked as his gaze fell on Nia. She bristled at his choice of words but said nothing. Even as a child, she had always been sensitive to the word “creature” and felt it offensive to refer to non-humans as such. She knew he had no idea about her bloodline, though, and since he meant no harm she simply ignored the terminology.

“Nia Olu, sir,” she introduced herself with a nod of her head, and he returned the gesture.

“Ah, a beautiful name for a beautiful woman. And what is it that you do, Nia Olu?”

“I am a healer and a devotee of Bast.”

“A devotee, huh? Well, I think we will get along nicely,” he smiled warmly at her before turning back to the king. “What can I do for you all today?”

“Well, actually, Nia is a big part of why we’re here,” T’Challa began. “It seems Bast has gone missing. Neither of us has been able to contact her as of late.”

“Are you a priestess?” Abdu asked Nia, confused as to why a simple devotee would be partnered with the king for such a task. Okoye felt vindicated by his questioning but stayed quiet.

“No, sir.”

“Then, I must say, I’m a little confused on how you would have a direct connection to her-”

“She is highly favored in the goddess’ eyes,” T’Challa cut in, hoping his vague answer would be enough to dissuade Abdu from asking too many questions. He knew it wouldn’t be easy to hide anything from a priest of the god of wisdom, but he also knew he couldn’t give away Nia’s full identity. “We were wondering if maybe you could see if Thoth knows where she is or why she isn’t answering.”

Abdu could tell there was something else to the story, but decided not to press the subject. He figured that if the king felt it was important enough to keep from him, then he had to trust his judgment.

The priest nodded and motioned for the three of them to follow him. T’Challa winked at Fatima before falling in step with Abdu, and once again, Nia’s and Okoye’s eyes struggled to remain straight ahead as they followed behind the two men.

Nia couldn’t help but stare in awe at the rows and rows of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves they passed as they walked through the centuries-old library. She imagined herself spending hours combing through the texts and soaking up whatever knowledge held, just like she did with the many books Amare provided her with as a child. Her daydreaming was cut short when they passed through the children’s section, and she noticed a display of picture books, one of which caught her eye. There, on the cover, was a colorful illustration of an aziza sitting in a tree, watching over a group of children as they played in the grass below him.

Before she knew it, Nia had grabbed the book and started flipping through the pages, scanning the words and pictures for any sign of historical truth. She found none, but her hope didn’t die out. Maybe, just maybe the library held onto more of the past than the Wakandans realized. She knew magical creatures were relegated to folktales, but she began to wonder how many of those tales were historically accurate, if any. She hadn’t noticed that the others had stopped and were watching her tear through the book like it held the secrets to the universe.

“You like that one? It’s a fairly new release. Very popular with the children,” Abdu said, but his words fell on deaf ears.

“Nia?” the king called out to her.

She jumped and dropped the book, but T’Challa caught it before it could hit the ground.

“Yeah? Sorry, I just…” Nia trailed off, unsure of what to say. All three of them looked at her curiously, but when T’Challa’s eyes graced the cover, he understood why she had been called to it. “Are there many stories like this?”

“Of aziza?” Abdu asked for clarification, and Nia nodded. “Sure! Kids love fantastical creatures. You know, some of them even swear up and down that they’ve seen them in real life.”

T’Challa and Nia shared a quick glance as he set the book back where she found it. Of course, Okoye caught their quick exchange.

“Such wild imaginations,” Nia murmured, and the group continued on their trek. She was quiet for a moment as she tried to figure out the best way to word her next question when she decided to just go for it. “Abdu, is there any mention of, um, species that are no longer around in any of these books?”

T’Challa looked at her knowingly out of the corner of his eye. He knew what she was getting at, and he was curious about Abdu’s answer. After seeing Nia’s book the day before, his mind had begun to wonder about ancient Wakandan texts. She had told him that they coexisted long ago, so there had to be some evidence hidden deep in the bowels of the library. If there was proof anywhere, it was here.

“Of course!” Abdu said excitedly and pointed to the far left wall. “Species naturally go extinct all the time. If that interests you, check out our history section over there.”

Nia and T’Challa both cataloged that information for later and started mentally planning their next visits.

The deeper they traveled into the vast library, a tingling grew in Nia’s stomach. There was great power there, and she could feel it. The tingling intensified as they arrived at a large door with an image of Thoth that had been hand-carved by artisans long ago.

“We’ll take it from here, Okoye,” T’Challa ordered, and the general nodded before standing at attention with her back to the door. Then, his eyes fell to Nia. “Ready?”

“I think…”

“That’ll serve you well here,” Abdu joked as he pushed open the heavy door.

Nia wasn’t quite sure what she was expecting to see, but a winding staircase certainly wasn’t on her list of possibilities. The three of them quietly descended the steps, and all that could be heard was the sounds of their sandals connecting with the stone as they went. After what seemed like forever, Abdu came to a halt at another large door and turned to face his visitors.

“You must enter with pure intentions and a cool head, or he will not answer. Understood?”

Nia and T’Challa answered in unison.

“Yes, sir.”

“Of course.”

“Good,” Abdu smiled at them and reached for the handle, pushing it open and revealing what looked to be a private study. The lamps along the stone walls lit up when they entered, and Nia was once again amazed at how the ancient seemed to flawlessly combine with the modern. As she looked around, she noticed that instead of books, there were scrolls stacked neatly on the shelves. A high-backed chair sat behind a large wooden desk with several scrolls strewn about it, and in the center of the room, there was a stone lectern that looked like it had been there since the dawn of time. Colorful pillows surrounded it on the floor, and next to it stood another statue of Thoth. This time, his hands were out and he was holding a staff that resembled the one from the statue out front, except this one was made of gold. This one was real, and it made the hairs on the back of Nia’s neck stand at attention.

Abdu made his way over to the closest shelf and grabbed a scroll from the top of the stack. He then crossed the room again and stood behind the lectern. When he unrolled the scroll, Nia and T’Challa were both surprised to find that it was blank. They watched with bated breath as he produced a shiny gold pen from his pocket and removed the staff from the statue’s arms.

“You two, come sit down,” Abdu said to them, pointing to the floor pillows.

They obeyed his order, and each grabbed a pillow. T’Challa sat cross-legged while Nia carefully placed her new basket on the floor and tucked her feet under her. They waited patiently while Abdu mumbled a prayer under his breath. Despite T’Challa’s enhanced hearing, he could barely make out what Abdu was saying, but the more he spoke, the colder the room became. The priest continued his prayers for several minutes until the staff began to glow with blinding orange light and his mouth snapped shut tight. A soft breeze blew through the room as his eyes glowed the same color as the staff, and the pen in his left hand started to frantically scribble words onto the formerly blank scroll. His hand moved faster than humanly possible, and Nia recognized what was happening as a possession. She bowed her head in the god’s presence and nudged T’Challa in his side to do the same. He followed suit, but neither of their eyes left Abdu, too curious to look away.

It seemed like forever had come and gone as the two sat in silence, watching in awe while Abdu filled the scroll as he channeled Thoth. The only sound that filled the air was the fast-moving pen on the papyrus and a faint humming from the staff, but suddenly, it all stopped. The staff’s light waned, and Abdu blinked his eyes back to their normal shade of hazel. He carefully placed the staff back in the statue’s hands and read over the words he had been given from his god. A frown appeared on the priest’s face, and Nia made eye contact with T’Challa. Neither one felt good news was coming.

“Well,” Abdu broke the tense silence, “to sum it up, it seems Thoth hasn’t seen or heard from Bast in several weeks. He says that’s very unlike her, as I’m sure you know, T’Challa.”

The king nodded. “Is there anything else? Did he say where she might be?”

“Oh, he said plenty, but not about your question. He can be quite long-winded at times,” Abdu murmured as he scanned the text once more to make sure he wasn’t missing anything. He then looked down at his two visitors with an apology in his eyes. “I wish I could’ve been of more help.”

T’Challa stood from his seated position and reached a hand out to Nia. She swatted it away and stood on her own, straightening out her long, flowing skirt before sending Abdu a warm smile. “Thank you for trying.”

“It was a pleasure, my dear.”

“So,” Nia turned to the king, “where to next?”

--------

The smile never left Okoye’s face as she landed the Talon in an open field and proudly led them to their next destination. They had traveled to Okoye’s hometown in the Mining province, and she nodded at her former neighbors as they waved to get her attention. It wasn’t often that she could return to Birnin Djata, but since she was on duty, she had to remain professional.

The town was much smaller than Birnin Zana, and the walk to the temple was much shorter this time around. A few moderately-sized dwellings lined the road to the temple, and Nia could see the town square in the distance. They passed groups of miners boarding and exiting the trains that took them to and from work, and Nia couldn’t help but wonder what all that vibranium looked like up close.

When they arrived at the temple, Nia was pleasantly surprised that this one actually looked like a place of worship. The wall that surrounded it looked as old as time, but the vibranium door in the center had to be no more than a hundred years old. A strange sound echoed from inside, and although Nia thought she recognized it, she was confused on why it was coming from a temple of all places.

“Is something wrong? What’s going on in there?” she asked with concern, making Okoye’s smile expand and her eyes light up.

“Sparring.”

Nia’s confusion grew, and she turned to T’Challa for clarification.

“Kokou is the god of war. Fighters often train here, and many of his followers go on to become great warriors. Including Okoye,” he explained.

“Ohhh, ok.”

Okoye led them up the temple’s steps, and Nia’s attention was drawn to the rows of fire that lined the walkway. As the party of three got closer to the doors, they slowly parted to grant them access. Loud shouts and grunts came from the right, and Okoye led them down the hallway, directly towards the noise.

Nia watched excitedly as the warriors-in-training sparred with one another. Fists connected with flesh, spears sliced through the air, and fighters seemed to glide across the padded floor. She recognized some of the fighting styles and thought back to her younger days when Amare took it upon himself to teach her some of the combat skills he had to learn for his days as a secret operative. Even though she was a healer, Nia sure was scrappy and could hold her own. It had been a while, though, and she was sure she had forgotten her training over the years.

A bell rang on the other side of the training room, and all of the fighting ceased. Okoye bowed her head in deference as a tall, muscular older woman in red emerged from an observation room and smiled softly in her direction.

“My king,” the woman saluted T’Challa, making all of the fighters whip their heads around and salute him as well. The woman crossed the floor as her trainees stood at attention, and grabbed Okoye’s hands in hers. “Okoye, my dear, it has been too long.”

“Priestess Yaa, how good to see you.”

“And my king, welcome to the Temple of Kokou.”

“Thank you, priestess.”

“What brings you here?” she asked before shooting a sly glance at Okoye. “You never come visit anymore, so I know it must be important.”

“My apologies for keeping her from you,” T’Challa interjected.

“None needed. I knew when Okoye became general that she would have little time for us anymore,” Yaa waved him off and smiled proudly at Okoye before her eyes fell to Nia. “And who is this?”

“Nia Olu,” she respectfully bowed her head.

“And you are a fighter too, no?”

“Um, not exactly. My father taught me how to fight when I was young, but I am a healer and a devotee of Bast.”

This was the first T’Challa had heard of her knowledge of combat, and he wondered what else he didn’t know about her.

“I’m sure it’s still in there somewhere. You have a warrior’s spirit.”

Nia was surprised by the priestess’ comment but thanked her nonetheless.

“Priestess Yaa, we have a problem that you might be able to help us solve,” the king stated.

Yaa nodded and called to her class, “Keep sparring. I’ll be back.”

The room came alive again, and Nia couldn’t help but watch the dozens of bodies moving about with powerful grace as they fought.

Yaa gestured for them to follow her, and she led them around a corner to get away from all the noise. “How can I help you, my king?”

“Bast is missing, and we would like to ask Kokou if he knows where she is,” he cut straight to the point, and Yaa appreciated his brevity.

She gestured again, and the four of them relocated to the other side of the temple. They entered a large, empty room with nothing except a wall of ancient weapons and a huge, raging fire pit in the center.

“This eternal flame was gifted to us by Kokou many millennia ago as a way of contacting him,” Yaa narrated. “In order for him to answer, you will each have to give a sacrifice.”

“I didn’t bring anything to-”

“Blood, dear. You sacrifice blood. He is the god of war, after all,” Yaa chuckled as she glided over to the wall of weapons. Her fingers danced along the flat side of the blade of a vibranium dagger with a red and gold hilt before wrapping her hand firmly around the grip and removing it from its position. Yaa tested the weight of it in her hand as she rejoined the group. Without warning, she sliced her palm open and allowed her blood to drip into the flame. The priestess noticed the look of horror on Nia’s face and attempted to quell her fears. “Don’t worry; you’ll only need a drop or two.”

Okoye was first to step up, pressing the dagger’s tip into her hand and drawing a small amount of blood. She handed the dagger to T’Challa as she made a fist and let her blood droplets fall into the fire pit. The king did the same before passing the dagger to Nia. She looked at it apprehensively, but T’Challa continued to hold it out for her to take.

“Go on, dear,” Yaa urged. “We will heal you up after.”

Nia and T’Challa locked eyes as they were both reminded of the night they became reacquainted with one another. T’Challa’s wound would quickly heal on its own, but she wouldn’t be able to use her powers to heal herself in Yaa’s and Okoye’s presence. She took a deep breath and tried to ignore the feeling of her palm stinging with the memory of alcohol pads. T’Challa knew where her mind had wandered to and took her formerly injured hand in his as he ran his thumb over her palm.

“It won’t be as bad as last time,” he whispered so only Nia could hear him. “Just a little cut, ok?”

Nia’s mouth dried up, and her eyes traveled to Okoye and Yaa. The priestess seemed intrigued by his tenderness towards her, but the irritation on Okoye’s face was clear as day. Nia remembered that he was a serial charmer and removed her hand from his. She reached for the dagger and quickly pricked her finger, squeezing a couple of droplets into the flame.

Yaa set the dagger aside to be cleaned and watched as the flames grew in intensity. All four of them stepped back when the fire surged towards the sky and took the vague shape of a man.

“Kokou,” Yaa fell to her knees, and the others followed her lead. “Thank you for answering our call.”

“Where is the fight?” his voice boomed around the expansive room as what looked to be his head swiveled from side to side taking in the four who summoned him. He had no eyes, but Nia felt his gaze land on her and linger for a moment too long.

“There is no fight this time, but we have an inquiry,” Yaa said as she stood.

“Very well,” Kokou’s voice rang out again, and the flames whipped in T’Challa’s direction. “What is so important that the king requires my assistance? Have you not a god of your own?”

T’Challa looked to Yaa for reassurance as he began to stand, and she nodded for him to continue. “Yes, I do, but she is missing.”

“Missing?! What do you mean missing?”

“She has not spoken to me in weeks, and Thoth has not seen or heard from her either.”

Kokou turned back to Nia. “And you have not heard from her?”

“No, sir,” Nia stood tall as she answered him.

“I am surprised she has not spoken to you of all...people,” he said with a mischievous lilt in his voice. Nia stilled as she realized that he knew what she was. She slyly made eye contact with T’Challa, and though his expression was unreadable, she knew he had to have heard it, too.

“You know, blood can tell you a lot about a person...or being,” Kokou began to pace around the large fire pit. “Who they are, what their lineage is...you, Nia, are very special. But I am sure you know that already, don’t you?”

Nia ignored the confused stares from Yaa and Okoye and stared straight into where she assumed Kokou’s eyes to be. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

“Kokou-”

“Patience, your highness,” the god chastised T’Challa, “I was getting to it. I just had to take a little detour first since you brought me such an interesting young lady. Now, to answer your question: sorry to disappoint, but no. I do not know where Bast is. I wish I did, though; she is an excellent sparring partner.”

Nia and T’Challa both deflated a little bit. They had hoped for a better answer than that.

“Thank you, Kokou,” T’Challa spoke with his head bowed to the god. The others did the same, and just as quickly as he had appeared, Kokou was gone.

--------

“Third time’s the charm,” T’Challa mumbled as he held the intricate iron gate open. Nia and Okoye walked through, and the general was blown away by the beauty before them. The botanical gardens sat on a protected stretch of land on the border between the Mining and River provinces, but people from all over the country traveled there to witness its splendor.

Nia, however, was no stranger to the gardens. She made sure to visit a few times a year just to sit and commune with the diverse group of plants, but she never knew it doubled as a place of worship. She liked that the gardens were never full of people, and depending on how deep she veered off the main walkways, she could avoid the public altogether. Except for the delightful presence of one of the attendants, Nia always managed to find solitude and serenity among the plants of the botanical gardens.

“Has this always been Mujaji’s temple?” she asked as the three of them followed the long, winding path that led to the greenhouses in the back of the gardens.

“As far as I’m aware. Why?”

“It’s just that I’ve been here before, and I never knew. I always felt like there was...something here, but I just assumed I was feeling the energy from all of the plants.”

“You can do that?” Okoye asked, and she caught another shared glance between Nia and the king. They had been doing that all day, and she was growing tired of it.

Nia opened her mouth to try to fix her slip-up, but she was saved when a young woman about her age emerged from behind a mango tree and recognized her colorful headwrap.

“Nia?”

“Sukutai!”

Nia ran over to her, and the women embraced. A smile crept up T’Challa’s cheeks at seeing Nia’s faint glow again, but, unfortunately, it seemed that Okoye might have seen it as well. The king ignored her pointed stares and continued to watch Nia and the woman from afar.

“What are you doing here? It’s been months since I saw you last!” Sukutai playfully scolded her before leaning in like she had a secret to tell. “You have to see the new fire lily blooms; I know they’re your favorite.”

“They are,” Nia chuckled, “but I’m here on business today.”

“Business?”

Nia gestured behind her, and Sukutai’s eyes widened in shock as she finally noticed T’Challa and Okoye standing in the distance.

“My apologies, my king,” she quickly saluted him, but he waved her off.

“None needed. Any friend of Nia’s is a friend of mine.”

Sukutai’s eyebrows almost reached her hairline as she turned back to Nia. “I know we don’t know each other very well, but how come you never told me you knew the king?”

“He’s new,” Nia shrugged nonchalantly.

Sukutai shook her head fondly at her friend as T’Challa and Okoye came to stand next to her.

“What brings you to my humble garden, your highness?”

“I would say this is anything but humble, priestess,” he chuckled. This time it was Nia’s turn to be surprised.

“Priestess?!”

“Yeah, I don’t like to advertise it,” Sukutai shrugged.

“Well, I guess we both have our secrets,” Nia teased, making her friend giggle.

“I guess we do.”

“Sukutai, we are here because we need to speak with Mujaji. Bast is missing and-”

“You need to see if he knows where she is.”

“Yes,” T’Challa nodded.

“Right this way,” Sukutai said as she stuck her elbow out for Nia. She wrapped her arm around it, and the two of them took off, chatting about the flora they passed on the way.

Sukutai led them to the back of the botanical gardens towards the greenhouses. There were several smaller ones scattered around that were about the size of Nia’s home, but the very last greenhouse was huge. It stood about two stories tall and expanded across an acre of land.

“How did I miss this?” Nia wondered aloud.

“You weren’t looking for it,” Sukutai winked. “Too distracted by the pretty flowers, as usual.”

“You should really pay more attention to your surroundings, Nia,” T’Challa teased, and she narrowed her eyes at him. Despite the fact that she was still very hesitant to trust Nia, Okoye had to stifle a chuckle at her attitude. It was refreshing for her to see a woman that seemed to be immune to his charms.

The four of them entered the greenhouse, and Nia was amazed at what she saw. Instead of beautiful flowers and lush trees and bushes, there were rows and rows of crops.

“I knew you had some fruit trees, but I didn’t know you grew other foods here, too,” she said with her mouth wide open.

“We have to. Who do you think taught us how to work the land?”

Nia nodded as she soaked up Sukutai’s words. It had never occurred to her that the humans had to learn agriculture from somewhere...or someone. She wondered if aziza had learned from him, too, and if so, why hadn’t she heard about it? Were their history books incomplete, too? Nia’s train of thought was cut short as they arrived at the center of the greenhouse. There was a large patch of soil surrounded by an old stone wall no more than two feet tall. A small plaque near the opening caught the visitors’ eyes, and they crowded around to read it.

“The first garden?” Nia gasped, and her eyes traveled to the rich soil.

Sukutai smiled proudly, “That’s right. This is where Wakandans first learned how to grow sorghum. Mujaji’s magic still inhabits the land, and he allows us to speak to him through it.”

“How does it work?” T’Challa asked, equally in awe of the plot of land that allowed his people to prosper. Yes, they had vibranium, but what use would that be without the ability to feed themselves? Had they remained hunter-gatherers, they never would have gotten to where they are today.

“I’ll show you,” Sukutai said as she untied her shoes. “Nia, would you like to help?”

“M-me?”

“Yes, you, silly. You have the heart and hands of a gardener.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“First thing’s first, shoes off,” Sukutai instructed, and Nia slid out of her sandals. “Now, you see those jars full of seeds over there?”

Sukutai gestured behind them, and they all turned around to follow her line of vision.

“Yes,” Nia’s voice shook as she spoke.

“Don’t worry about what each one is. Just go pick whichever one calls to you.”

Nia nodded and padded her way over to the table covered in glass jars. She felt the power radiating from each one, but she felt compelled to pick up a small jar full of green coffee beans. Her hand instinctively reached out to touch it, but she pulled back and looked to the priestess for permission.

“Go ahead, take one,” Sukutai urged, and Nia carefully screwed the top off. She reached in and grabbed one of the beans, and walked back over to Sukutai.

“Ok, how does this work?”

“We start with a yes or no question. Let’s try ‘Do you know where Bast is?’ and go from there, ok?”

“Ok.”

“Follow me.”

Sukutai stepped onto the sacred land, and Nia did the same. The ground seemed to vibrate, and Nia’s face lit up. The slight glow returned to her skin, and this time Okoye was sure in what her eyes beheld. She quickly turned towards T’Challa, who looked at her out of the corner of his eye but kept quiet. He shifted his weight away from her nervously and continued to watch Nia and Sukutai work.

“You feel it too, huh?” Sukutai asked with a sly smile on her face.

“It feels...it feels like my feet are buzzing.”

Sukutai’s head cocked to the side, and her eyes narrowed as she tried to understand exactly what was happening. Nia obviously wasn’t a priestess of Mujaji, yet his magic spoke to her in some way. That wasn’t normal, and neither was the faint highlight that appeared on her skin.

“Yeah, it does,” she agreed and shook the suspicions out of her head. She knelt to the ground, and Nia followed suit. “Hold the seed in your hands, close to your face- yes, just like that. Now, close your eyes and let it feel your energy. When you are ready, speak to it. Ask your question.”

Nia shut her eyes and focused on the feeling of the seed in her hands. She pictured it growing big and strong, and after a few moments, her mouth was filled with the taste of coffee. It was ready. She brought it closer to her lips and whispered, “Do you know where Bast is?”

When she peeled her eyes open, she saw a huge grin on Sukutai’s face.

“You’re a natural.”

“Thanks,” Nia giggled. “What now?”

“Now you plant it.”

“Anywhere?”

“Wherever you choose.”

Nia studied the ground around her and turned a little to the left. She held the seed in her left hand as she made a small mound in the dirt with her right. She gave the seed one last glance before pushing it into the soil.

“No water?” she asked.

Sukutai shook her head with a mischievous smile, “No need.”

“Ok...so now we wait?”

“It won’t take long. Usually about-” Sukutai’s eyes widened. “Look!”

Four sets of eyes trained on the tiny green sprout that pushed up from the ground.

“It’s never happened that fast before.”

The sprout turned into a seedling, and the seedling matured right before their eyes. Just as hope began to fill the air, it left, and the coffee plant shriveled up. The leaves turned brown, then a murky black before decomposing entirely. Everyone’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and silence descended upon the group. Without even asking, they all knew it was a resounding “no.”

--------

The silence was thick on the ride back to Nia’s. Okoye flew the Talon with a million questions running through her mind, all of which seemed to come back to Nia. Who is she? What is she?

Nia left her position by the window, no longer interested in the ground below, and met T’Challa by his sand table. She watched for a moment as the molecules dispersed and recollected themselves in the shapes of the temples they just visited and the gods they just contacted. He chewed on his lip as he tried to put the pieces together, but there just wasn’t enough information.

“T’Challa?” Nia spoke softly to keep Okoye from hearing.

“Hm?” he grunted without looking up.

“What if the problem isn't in this realm?”

The king tore his eyes away from the table, and the sand fell flat.

“You are suggesting we go to the magic realm?”

“Again with the ‘we,’” she sighed. “No, I’m suggesting I go to the magic realm.”

He stared at her blankly for a moment before calling out to Okoye, “General?”

“Yes, my king?”

“You will travel back to the palace alone-”

“No-” Nia tried to stop him.

“I will be staying with Nia a little while longer. I will call when I need you.”

“Yes, my king.”

Nia dragged her hand down her face, then immediately looked down and noticed the clay that had transferred to her palm. She pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned in frustration, both at the king and at her careless mistake.

“T’Challa, I just said-”

“I know what you said,” he snipped, “but this is my kingdom, and I need to know what’s going on.”

“But-”

“I’m going with you, and that’s final.” He turned away and joined Okoye in the cockpit.

Nia sat off to the side and pouted the rest of the way home. When they arrived, Okoye reluctantly left the king behind and flew off to the palace.

“She could’ve just stayed outside, you know,” Nia fussed as they entered her home. “Now she definitely knows something is up.”

He rolled his eyes, “She knew something was up the moment you started glowing.”

Nia froze and mentally kicked herself for not using the glamor spell her ubaba had taught her. She was in such a rush that morning that it completely slipped her mind. The smug look on T’Challa’s face made her want to slap him, so she stormed down the hall to her bathroom to fix her facepaint. As soon as she finished, Nia heard the king make a strange noise and looked out to see what he had done. A laugh erupted from her belly as she watched the king stand on the couch to get away from Sego. He glared at her, but his eyes promptly fell back on the python that was too close for comfort.

“Call off your snake!”

“Python,” she giggled. “Sego, stop messing with him, please.”

Sego turned her way, and Nia could see the playful look in his eyes. He thoroughly enjoyed messing with the king. T’Challa climbed down from the couch and let out a calming breath as Sego slithered away to the kitchen.

“So the mighty Black Panther is scared of pythons, huh?” she mocked him as she leaned against the doorframe.

“Not scared...I just don’t like them.”

“Mhm. If it makes you feel any better, he’s not fully a python. He’s a shifter.”

“Meaning…”

“Meaning sometimes he’s in his human form, sometimes he’s in his python form.”

T’Challa thought about it for a moment. “Actually, that does make me feel better. Thanks.”

Nia smirked and rolled her eyes.

“So,” T’Challa cleared his throat, “what now?”

“First, we go see my ubaba, then the queen.”

“Ok...how do we, you know, get there?”

“It’s easy,” she bragged as she walked over to him. “Give me your hand, and I’ll show you.”

Nia reached out to him, and when their hands connected, an image of the two of them sharing a feverish kiss popped into her mind. She gasped and pulled back as though she had touched a hot stove.

“What is it?!”

“N-nothing, I just,” she had to think of something quick. “My headwrap. I take it off when I go to the magic realm...to, uh, let my ears breathe, you know?”

“Um, ok.”

Nia hurried from the room and left T’Challa standing there, confused about what just happened. He knew she was lying despite the fact that her excuse had some semblance of truth to it. Thanks to the heart-shaped herb, T’Challa could hear her heartbeat, and something had caused her heart to almost beat out of her chest. His suspicions didn’t last for long, though, because when she came back from her room, his jaw dropped. Of course, he had noticed her beauty the first time, well the second time, he laid eyes on her, but as she came down the hallway fluffing her coils out into an afro that framed her face like an obsidian halo, he felt a knot form in his chest.

“Ready?” she asked, obviously over whatever had been bothering her.

“Yeah,” T’Challa cleared his throat. He was suddenly parched. “Ready.”

“Ok.” She grabbed his hands again, but this time there was no vision. Nia sighed in relief and looked him dead in his eyes as the atmosphere around them began to thicken. “Be cool. Don’t embarrass me.”

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