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saradika · 9 months

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— BLEED FOR ME | part ii

[masterlist]

mand’alor!vampire!din djarin x f!reader

rated e - 3.4k

haunted hoedown prompts: vampire!au + “i would burn the world for you.” + vampire has a taste for specific blood + revenge + (one-sided) enemies to lovers (+ 1 to be revealed!)

tags: vampire!au, drinking blood, reader has scar on shoulder, mentions of death, shared memories, light angst

He fills the doorway, as silent as he was downstairs.

Lingering there as you try to keep your breathing under control. A second where you wonder if he saw, if he suspected - your hands clasped together on your lap to stay the tremor.

Preparing for his wrath.

Not ready for the way he waits, his low voice asking for your permission to enter the room.

For the way he comes quietly to you after - the glove that finally reaches, touches. Tipping your chin up again, like she had.

So carefully, a knuckle curved under your chin. As if he’s afraid you’ll break.

His helmet tilts, the smallest movements as he takes you in.

“You don’t have to do this.”

The Mand’alor’s voice is low - soft and distorted through the helmet. Not what you were expecting, but the words make your blood turn to ice.

Don’t have to do what? Your stomach churns as you think that he did see you - the twitch of your hand as you wonder if you could manage, if you could reach-

“I chose you,” His voice breaks the silence again. “But if you’re unwilling, I won’t feed. If it’s money you need, I’ll see that you’ve taken care of. I’ll find someone else.”

It’s so entirely unexpected. A nervous glance sent his way - and for a second, you wished there were eyes to meet. An opportunity to truly read him, for why would someone so heartless offer an alternative?

But you need him to take it. To take you - his armor shed and his defenses down, so you can put an end to this.

You deserved it, didn’t you? Revenge on the man who had stolen your home from you. The cozy life you had led, in the little cottage at the edge of the village.

It’s just a pile of stone, now.

Too much time had been spent getting to this moment for you to accept his offer, even as tempting as it is.

Because you couldn’t live here, surrounded in this finery. Playing a pet, while they depended on you.

The ones who had found you. Choking on smoke and half-dazed at the edge of the forest. Helping you up from where you were slumped against the base of that old, oak tree.

Swept until their wing after the destruction. There had been no place left for you, as the morning dawn creeped into afternoon.

You had barely escaped with your life.

And soon after, the plan was formed. If you could take down their leader, the rest would fall. Their whispers reeking of vengeance, sinking its talons into your skin.

Convincing you that you deserved it, didn’t you?

Uncertainty has kept you awake, in those days as you had thought it over. Because things could be rebuilt. The world was a vast place - you could start over.

But then they told you that this happened, often. That the vampires would crush small towns like yours, looking to feed. Leaving behind only silent memories and ghosts.

That is what got you. And it’s that thought turned into a knowing, a certainty.

You can’t let that happen to someone else.

Days of training turned into weeks, and then months. Then, a year.

Because it had to be you - there was too much history for any of the Slayers to do it. They’d be recognized a mile off.

Learning how they fight, until the weight of the silver dagger on your hip brought comfort.

“Wait until he’s distracted.”

“Do whatever it takes, just make sure-”

“Make sure you don’t trust him.”

“Not a single word.”

And finally, it had been time. You had three moons - until the winter solstice. After that, the vampires would keep inside for the Long Sleep, and not be seen until Spring.

If you did not complete your task in time, then you’d be trapped with them. If you succeeded too late, you’d freeze in the cold before you got far.

The sharpened piece of wood had been shoved into your hand, this morning.

“Run this through his heart.”

“Rip off his head. Burn him.”

“Trap him with the sun.”

Their advice hummed beneath your skin, as you had approached the castle. Your plans had been a heavy weight in your stomach, twisting with the unease at what you have to do.

To offer yourself up to a vampire was no mere feat.

But when that vampire was a Mandalorian, encased in that shining armor, it was all but madness.

It was no secret that he sought blood. That offerings were brought to him, almost always turned away.

No one could sate his thirst. He had paid no mind to the others that were ushered in with you. You had wondered if he could smell your deception, clinging to your skin.

But he had chosen you.

And if this is how you had to pay them back, you would.

Your head shakes, as you make your decision, "I… I am willing."

There's a second of silence, as if he wants to press. As if he's not sure, himself.

But then he's carefully tugging off the rust-tipped gloves, lowering himself onto the ottoman near the desk. Leaving the leather to rest on his thigh armor as his hands come into view.

You hold your breath.

But there’s no sharp claws, no blood caked under nails, no fur or scales.

It's just a hand. Tanned skin and human, as far as you can tell.

It eases some of the apprehension, though your heart still races from almost being caught. At the thought of this next part - the pain of the bite and the fire in your veins.

You had been told to be brave. To grit your teeth and work through it - that it was something you'd have to learn to bear, if you were to get close to him.

But the thought of it, that anticipation, has your muscles strung tight. It takes more effort than you'd like to admit for your head to tilt to the side, for you to bare your neck to him.

He takes your wrist, instead.

A large hand wrapping around, his thumb pressing against the place where your pulse pounds. Something hot and electric arcing through you at his touch, though his skin is cool against yours.

"Thank you." The Mand'alor tells you, and there’s a depth to his words as he's lifts the edge of his helmet.

Just to his nose, and no further. He's human here, too - a pretty curve of lips framed by dark facial hair. Your eyes linger, realizing this is a sight that near-none had seen. Curiosity sparking, until those lips are parting.

And the two sharp fangs come into view, instead.

It has you tensing, as his grip tightens - that thumb smoothing over your skin. Almost soothing in its movement, though you can't comprehend why.

"Just a pinch." He murmurs, "You'll be alright."

You huff a breath at his words just as his head dips down to your wrist - and then, he's biting down.

There's a sharp ache as his fangs pierce your skin, and you wait for more. For the feeling of being sliced open, the burn of the venom, for your bones to crack beneath his teeth.

But, none comes.

Just the sensation of pulling, the buzz of his mouth against your skin as he groans, deep in his chest. The sound sends heat to your cheeks, it feels too intimate a noise for someone you just met.

For someone so cruel.

The pain was no more than the accidental prick of a finger against a dagger. That brief pain soothed by the continuous sweep of his thumb. A strange sort of contented drowsiness passing over you instead, tempting you to close your eyes.

And then, you do.

There's flashes. The pulse of lights that glitter like stars, mimicking the beating of your heart. A snapshot of images, flickering briefly in your mind.

Some, you recognize. Your old bedroom, the garden outside. Tulips swaying in a summer breeze. A second later and it's tilting - crumbling beneath your steps.

There's a child, their eyes round and black. The flash of something black, crackling with a bright light. An ocean, beneath the ground - dragging you under.

A sensation of being lifted. The warmth of your cheek pressed against ice. A soft bed of grass, the bark biting into your shoulder.

The pulse in your throat drops down, down, down. Settling somewhere low, between your thighs. Your breath feels trapped in your chest, and when you let it loose, it's a soft moan-

You gasp, then - and your eyes are opening. He's pulled away, fingers smearing red across his lips - the peek of a pink tongue as he licks them clean. Hiding himself away again under the mask, as your wrist lies limply in your lap.

"You did well," He tells you, "I know that was a lot. It will get easier."

The images are still flashing in your mind. Ones that you know well blending with others. Had you been sleeping? Was more of your memory from that night unlocked?

There's a soft pressure against your wrist, and you jerk. Coming back from your thoughts, looking down to see him swipe a cream across puncture marks that were still raw and oozing.

An opened jar sits on the table, indentations in the pale salve where his fingers had been. Your mind feels hazy as you watch the way he works it into your skin - as the residual bit of throbbing wanes, the deep marks seeming to lessen before your eyes.

"They'll be gone in the morning." He tells you. There's a rough edge to his voice that wasn't there before, as he pushes himself up. Leaving the salve where it is, as his hands disappear behind the gloves.

Extending one though, to help you up. A little wobble to your step as you take it, as you let him guide you to the bed. It's soft beneath your touch, the mattress dipping as you sink back into it.

"Would you like anything?" The Mand'alor asks, "Food? Water?"

You feel... drained. Which is a humorous little thought, in your exhausted mind. A small smile, an echo of that low, thudding pulse as your legs push together, as you stretch.

"No, I'm just-" A yawn splits your face, coming from deep in your chest, "Sorry, just tired. It was a long journey."

It's easy to play the willing companion now, when you're fighting exhaustion. Your shields down with the promise of sleeping in a real bed, knowing you're not strong enough to fight tonight.

Tomorrow, you can try again.

"Of course." He stands at the foot of the bed. In your current state he almost looks awkward, with the cocked tilt of his hips. Looking as if he's ready to bolt, "I'll have Fennec bring you food when you wake."

Fennec. It must be the woman you met earlier. She had never given you her name.

Your nod is slow, a cracked open eye fixing on his helmet. In the light of the hallway he doesn't seem quite so big as he did before. Still broad, but you're no longer fearing what lies beneath.

"I'll be back tomorrow night." He tells you, "Not to feed, but to check on you."

You don't answer this time, already toeing the line of sleep. Missing the way he lingers for a long moment in the doorway. Before the heavy wooden door is closing, and you're left alone to dream.

Leaving you to wonder, as your eyes close - as you slip beneath the blankets, curling up. You knew he'd keep you alive. How else was he to feed?

But you never anticipated this, this...

This kindness.

You keep waiting for that veneer to crack - for that monster to be released. But it never does.

There is breakfast, the next morning. Then, lunch.

The skin on your wrist is smooth again by mid-morning, almost as if it never happened. A seamstress in your room by the afternoon, her eyes glittering as you’re measured for new clothes.

“You can’t be seen with the Mand’alor with only these,” Vera had all but giggled, a manicured finger flicking towards the small pack of clothes you had brought.

Too plain. Too worn.

You dress in soft linens now, in shades of crimson and slate. That brass rack along the wall filled to the brim with new finery.

Intricate beadings and rich fabrics and when the Mand’alor visits you that night, he’s quiet.

And with the new clothes, soon you do not look so out of place when you wander the empty halls during the day.

Unable to sleep while the sun is shining. Refusing to board up your pretty windows, to mimic a semblance of night.

You live stubbornly between two worlds. Out of sync from the rest of the castle for your first week. Bidding a good morning to Fennec as she eats her dinner. Skirting around her shadow - a broad man in dark green armor.

He no longer startles you, like he did in the beginning. Another Vampire Lord from across the sea, though there seemed to be no end to his visitation.

His eyes were always dark, always watching. He did not wear the helmet as the Mand’alor did - you would watch each expression flicker across his face, before it flattened.

A different kind of mask worn.

It has you curious, in spite of everything. Even though it takes you a few more days to pluck up the courage.

“Did Boba chose you, too?” You ask Fennec one evening.

Morning, for you now, you suppose. You have been trying, lately. The bread soaks into the dregs of your soup, as you swirl it along the bottom.

“In a ways.” She smiles. That rough edge softening over the days you’ve been here - her hackles lowering when it becomes clear that you were a little different than the others.

That you were the same you as you were before.

If only she knew in what way.

“It wasn’t like yours. And it was years ago.” She continues - an elbow digging into the wooden table, a palm cupped under her chin, “I was dying, and he found me.”

It’s not what you were expecting, the hunk of bread lying forgotten in your bowl.

“I suppose you could say he saved me.” A shoulder raises, and then drops, “I’d mistrusted someone. Slipped up, and found myself nearly gutted. No one could survive a wound like that.”

You don’t think you’ve take a breath since she started speaking - there was so little you knew about vampires. Only what you had been told, the bit you had gleaned from the books in your room.

“Boba found me, and he gave me a choice.”

“But,” You blink, “But you’re human, still?”

She ate, like you did. Did not stand with the same eerie stillness, not even taking a breath.

“He did not change me.” Fennec confirms, “But his blood healed me. And I’ve followed him since.”

“I did not… I did not realize vampires cared that much for humans.” You admit with embarrassment.

She gives you a knowing look, one that you do not understand. But a voice joins yours, low and laced with humor.

“We were all human, once. And you have not seen her on the battlefield, ad’ika.”

She smirks, as Boba fingers tap against the table, where he’s come to lean.

“Yes, it’s not my charming personality that has you keeping me around.”

He huffs a laugh, and there’s something like camaraderie between them.

A friendship.

It leaves you more confused than ever.

It’s morning, when he comes next.

The gentle knock at your door startling you awake. Most of the castle was asleep by now. You’re still trying to reset your internal clock - thinking that by now, you should be making an effort.

Not expecting him to be outside, as you pulled your robe a little more tightly around yourself.

It's been four days since he last fed, though you've seen him often in that time. The dip of his head when he passes you in the corridors. Watching him from the plush seats in the throne room - his helmet just barely tilting your way when he's not being spoken to.

You wonder if he's been watching you, too. If he thinks you will bolt - if he harbors any suspicions.

"Forgive me for not thinking of this sooner." He tells you, as you step aside to let him in, "I should have been doing this from the beginning."

"Doing what?" You frown, as you move to the bench by the window. A spot you've occupied the last two visits, preferring the wide bench to the narrow wooden desk chair.

"You're still getting used to this. Visiting you as the evening falls isn't helping you adjust." The Mand'alor explains, as you tug up the sleeve of your robe, baring the skin of your wrist.

His suggestion is thoughtful. As time has passed you've grown stronger, more used to the feeling. No longer sleeping right away, able to fight that sense of drowsiness.

It extends to the during, as well. If you concentrate hard enough, parts of those visions that flashed behind your closed eyes come into focus. And if you try really hard, the images fade to just sensations.

You couldn't explain if, if you tried. It certainly hadn't been something divulged during your training. In fact, a tiny part of you wondered if any of them even had knowledge of being a companion. Everything so far has felt... off.

Distorted by a degree, as if the road you were traveling had split, but still followed their path.

"You are the Mand'alor," You shrug, trying to brush off his consideration, "I am bound to follow your wishes."

He makes a sound, a low hum. It's as close to a laugh as you've heard, as he lowers himself to the bench next to you.

"I think we are past titles, seeing as I've tasted you." His voice is low, rough behind the helmet, "You may call me Din, when we're alone."

There's a heat in your cheeks at the innuendo, though he can't possibly mean it that way. His hands are already bare, fingers pressing against your skin. Feeling how your pulse had jumped at his words.

His helmet tips higher, this time. Resting on the bridge of his nose, his full lips on display.

It’s still too hard to watch - your eyes closing as he bites down. A small inhale of breath in anticipation, but you’ve gotten used to the impact.

Your eyes fighting to stay open this time, to stay in your own head. Unable to help risking a glance, then.

At the wash of red against full lips. The scruff of his jaw, the patch of hair missing - you imagine your thumb pressing against it.

Wondering if his face would feel like face, or it would be cool marble, like his hand.

His throat bobs, with the softest groan.

It’s natural, you tell yourself. You’ve groaned while eating the freshly-baked bread in the kitchens. Though it’s funny to think of yourself as the meal.

Idle fingers play with the edge of the heavy curtain, slipping through the fringe.

It’s then that the thought hits you. How distracted he was, at this moment.

How it’s morning.

How the whole castle is asleep.

Your fingers pinch down on the tassel. Testing the tension as you eye your desk, across the room but no more than a quick dash away.

All it would take is the slightest tug.

The morning sun would pour across his bare neck, the lower half of his face. Burning him, enough of a distraction that you could go for the stake. Fit it between his ribs, in that soft spot under his armpit.

You inhale a breath, to steel your nerves.

At the movement, his fingers stroke against your wrist. A means to soothe you.

And you find…. that you can’t do it.

Not right now. Not yet.

And this morning marks the beginning of that funny feeling that starts in your stomach. An unease, though it feels like you’re drowning in it.

Is it from wearing his colors? Is it your visions, or the echoing thud that tipped towards something carnal?

Is it because the thought of your revenge was so much easier when he was nameless?

Or is it because you’re still not sure what stayed your hand?

It’s not something you can think about, now.

You just need to play your part.

thanks so much for reading! 🥀💕 if you’d like to be tagged please let me know!

(tags: @dameron-grant-spector, @sugadolly, @writingsofestella)

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin imagine #haunted hoedown #hauntedhoedown

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captainsophiestark · 8 months

Text

Dogfight Football

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Top Gun

Day 3 Prompt: "Okay, show me."

Summary: Hangman gets hurt during Dogfight Football. Lucky for him, he's dating a navy doctor.

Word Count: 1,715

Category: Fluff, humor, little bit of angst

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I scowled as I scribbled in my notebook, trying to prepare for an upcoming test by making flash cards. All my friends and my boyfriend were outside on the beach playing something called 'Dogfight Football', but I was holed up here, at a table in the back of the Hard Deck, trying to memorize medical terms and procedures.

Stupid fighter pilots.

Being on temporary assignment at Top Gun at the same time as my boyfriend, Jake Seresin, was supposed to mean we got to spend more time together. And I guess we'd gotten to spend a little more time together, but I'd built it up in my mind as something much more romantic and exciting than navy training. I really should've known better, but I'd been on a ship in the middle of the ocean treating various illnesses for everyone on board for months. The romantic fantasy had been one of the only things getting me through.

At least I had tonight to look forward to. Jake and I were going to a fancy restaurant off base for dinner, then out somewhere to dance the night away. Neither of us had to report for duty until the afternoon tomorrow, so we could ditch some of our usual healthy habits.

I'd finally managed to finish my flash cards and block out most of the noise from outside when someone came bursting through the back door of the Hard Deck. I looked up to find the cause of the disturbance and found Coyote, one of Jake's best friends, staring at me.

"What happened?" I asked, shooting out of my seat immediately. Coyote looked stressed, which never happened unless something was actually wrong.

"Hangman got hurt," he said. I rushed to the bar and grabbed my med kit without hesitating, even as Coyote continued. "He was trying to pull a stunt on a touchdown in the game, and there was some pit or something hidden by the sand. I'm not totally sure what happened, but he went down hard. I think it's something with his leg."

I shook my head, cursing every last reckless aviator on that beach as I followed Coyote out the door.

"He wouldn't be the first one to fall into a literal sand trap and hurt himself. Let's just be glad he didn't break his neck showing off."

Once we got outside, I could see Jake clearly, laying in the sand not too far from the surf. The rest of the Top Gun fliers were gathered around him, and the fact that he hadn't forced himself to his feet to play it cool around them told me he was really, really hurt.

I started running as soon as Jake was in sight, cutting through the aviators and dropping to my knees as soon as I was in range of Jake. He looked up when he saw me and tried to smile, but it ended up being more of a grimace than anything else.

"Hey, Baywatch. Come to check on me?"

I snorted. "What did you do?"

"I was trying to do a flip."

"Oh my God."

"I've done one before! But when I landed, the sand just gave way, and my leg..."

He trailed off, wincing, one hand holding his leg and the other clenched in a tight fist in the sand. Nothing looked broken from here, but with his hand in the way, I couldn't be sure.

"It hurts," he said, voice a strangled whisper so that only I could hear. Jake looked at me, face tight with pain, and my heart squeezed seeing him like that. "It hurts a lot."

"Okay, show me," I said, falling into the cool calm that overtook me in emergency situations. "I need you to move your hand and show me where it hurts, alright?"

Jake nodded, then gingerly removed his hand to rest it with the other one in the sand. Coyote and Maverick had moved the others a little further away after I'd arrived, so we had some privacy. Jake groaned and barely stifled a scream as I reached out to gently touch his ankle, shin, and knee to asses. To his credit, his leg didn't move an inch.

After a few more painful minutes of assessment, I sat back on my heels and looked at my boyfriend. He looked back, body slightly less tensed but his teeth still clenched.

"So? What's the verdict, doc?"

"The verdict is you're insanely lucky," I said, turning to dig in my medical bag. I pulled out what I'd need to splint Jake's ankle, then got to work as I continued. "It's not uncommon for people to break their legs, bad, from falling into pits hidden by the sand. You, fortunately, didn't fall hard enough or twist enough or find a deep enough pit to quite break your leg. Instead, you've got a bad sprain. It's definitely not good, but based on what I'm seeing now, I think you'll have an easier time with this level of sprain than if you'd broken something."

Jake nodded, then winced again as I tightened the brace on his ankle. It wasn't good enough to last for long, but it would keep his ankle immobilized while I found a way to get him to my office where I had supplies to actually treat him more long-term.

"You're gonna be okay," I said, leaning over once I'd finished working and kissing Jake on the forehead. "I'm sorry you got hurt. Stop doing dangerous things to showboat with your friends."

Jake huffed a laugh and gave me the same overconfident, cocky smile that I'd seen a thousand times and slowly fallen in love with, albeit slightly more strained than normal.

"I can't make any promises about the last one. Thank you for taking care of me."

"Always. And you're going to hate what comes next, so... I guess just remember that it's part of what happens when you insist on doing beach-flips in a game."

"What do you-"

"Rooster!" I turned to call to the tall aviator, who'd wandered a little ways away with everyone else. He turned and started walking back as soon as he heard me.

"What's up?"

"I need your help getting Jake to my truck," I replied. Rooster grinned, and I heard Jake groan from behind me. This time, I didn't think it was from the pain.

"Sure thing. Happy to help."

"Can't you get anyone else," whined Jake as Rooster made it to us. I put my hands on my hips and stared him down.

"Rooster's the person on this beach who'll have the easiest time lifting you and carrying you out to the car. I love Coyote and everyone else, and I'm sure they'd figure it out if they needed to, but Roos is gonna be able to just do it."

Jake grumbled, and I caught Rooster with a shit-eating grin as he leaned down and picked Jake up. I just sighed and shook my head at both of them as we headed back up the beach.

"This is ridiculous," said Jake, renewing his protest as we neared the rest of the Top Gun class. "Just put an arm around me and help me up, I don't need to be carried-"

I whirled around, hands on my hips and a scowl on my face. I'd heard Jake twisting around like he was trying to get Rooster to put him down, and if he wasn't careful, he'd get dropped and hurt even worse than before. Both men froze on the spot as soon as I glared at them.

"Jake, grow up," I said, no more room for argument in my voice. "You can't walk. If you move your ankle around or put too much weight on it, you could make it much, much worse. Which is obviously bad for a lot of reasons, but would ground you from flying for who knows how long."

Jake huffed and crossed his arms, but he didn't have any comeback to that. I stared him down for another few moments, until Rooster shifted and cleared his throat.

"Hey, he's not as light as he looks, so-"

"Shut up, Chicken."

I just sighed and continued leading the both of them up the beach. I shot a few glares at Jake's peers as we went, reminding them with just a look that if they started messing with Jake, I had more than enough dirt on all of them to bury them in return. Phoenix was the only one to smile back at me in response.

By some miracle, we made it up the beach and through the Hard Deck without Rooster dropping Jake or Jake punching Rooster. Roos helped me get Jake into the passenger seat of my car, then I chased him off with a quick 'thank you' before he could give Jake any more shit. Once he was gone, I paused a second to sigh and catch my breath, then climbed into the driver's seat.

"So... what now?" asked Jake.

"Now, we go back to base so I can treat you properly and get you a real ankle brace. Maybe some X-Rays, we'll have to see. Painkillers, though, for sure."

Jake nodded, uncharacteristically quiet as I pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road. Then, after a second, he spoke, more quiet and serious than usual.

"Thank you for taking such good care of me. Seriously. And I'm sorry I messed up our date night, after we'd both been waiting for it for so long."

I sighed, then turned to Jake with a lopsided smile.

"I've always got your back, Jake. I'm your wingman in life, remember? And don't worry about date night. If you're feeling up to it, we can still go to dinner. If you're not, we've still got the evening to ourselves. I'm sure we can find something fun to do, just the two of us."

Jake chuckled. "I like the sound of that."

"Hm. Just hang in there, flyboy. We're almost back to base, and then we can get you feeling better."

"I almost hate to ask, but... what's your plan for getting me out of the car and into the doctor's office?"

I hesitated, chewing my lip before turning to Jake. He winced at just the expression on my face, because he knew me well enough to know he would need to.

"...How would you feel if I recruited a certain Vice Admiral to carry you?"

"Fuck."

****************

Top Gun Taglist: @elenavampire21

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vickyvicarious · 9 months

Note

If Jonathan has been suffering from brain fever which has apparently symptoms of delirious ramblings and no memory of who you are and where you live, does that mean that he had lost his memory even BEFORE he arrived at the station?

Because Sister Agatha said that he was asking for a ticket at Klausenburg station. But he never said a ticket to WHERE.

They assumed he was English from his manners and language, but he never said he wanted to go to England. "the guard was told by the station-master there that he rushed into the station shouting for a ticket for home." Home to where? Where is home? He evidently couldn't tell, he could just say home.

So did he climb down the walls and run across the Carpathians while actively losing his memory?

Ooh, this is a really interesting possibility. I have always kind of assumed that he didn't experience the worst of his brain fever until he broke down/was in the hospital. Then, a combination of his memories/attempts to talk being disregarded as delirium, and his body breaking down, and PTSD (and also maybe all those religious symbols burning the vampire infection out of his blood) - those were what led him to forget, to dismiss whatever he did remember as just delusions. He knew that he couldn't afford to linger on the memories for multiple reasons (they caused him to panic, they caused others to call him crazy) and just blocked it all out together with actually forgetting. He chose not to seek further because whatever the truth, he didn't want to know. He didn't want to deal with confirming that he had actually gone mad, or opening up the possibility that he hadn't. So he didn't read his diary. He was out and he wanted to move on.

But he already felt like his brain was on fire before he left. What if he was losing memories/coherence as he fled? What if everything else started to disappear, what if he only barely managed to hold on to a couple of concepts that were of the utmost importance to him? So he knows he has to get home. He knows he can't stop until he does so. He knows the way to go roughly (knows to travel West, knows to take a train) but can't explain it, can only wildly call for someone to send him home without being able to give any details on where that is. He knows the urgency but can no longer remember why, just that he is terrified and he cannot stop. (Until he has no choice, until he's forced to do so. And then, once he does stop, he loses himself entirely. The linchpin has been removed; without being able to go home he no longer can move at all, can't say who he wants to find there or where it is. With the urgency forced away he loses even his sense of time. At least for a while.)

And the one other thing he knows, the thing he's spent months doing. He knows he must protect his diary. He travels with it in his coat pocket, where he can reach in and feel it at any moment and reassure himself it's still there. When he's put in the hospital he never tells anyone about it. Maybe he asks Sister Agatha if it is still there, or maybe he can't share even that much, maybe he only asks her to keep his clothes in the room with him where he can see them. He protects it even from himself, he allows no one to read it or to touch it or to ask him about it. He doesn't even remember exactly why anymore, he just knows whatever is inside is terrifying and deadly important. He knows it is secret. He knows it has to be kept safe at all costs. And while he can't bear even to face it himself, even after he has started to recover, he absolutely cannot get rid of it either. And so he gives it to the one person he knows with absolute certainty will never break his trust, who can be allowed to open it at any time because she can be trusted with all of himself and everything he knows or once knew, who will never make him face it again unless he absolutely needs to do so. He gives it to the one person he knows will protect it without question. He gives it to Mina.

#dracula daily #dracula daily spoilers #jonathan harker #jonmina #YES i am deeply emotional over jonathan giving mina the journal again. i never STOP #but honestly this idea is SO painful and i love it #i don't think it contradicts jonathan's later reasoning either necessarily. they could work together #anonymous #replies

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dragonflylady77 · 3 months

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i got you a whole flower shop

A Harringrove Valentine's Day fic I wrote this afternoon

present for @shieldofiron and also @lovebillyhargrove

oh and it's on ao3

Steve walks into a florist shop on Valentine's Day but his plans change after he gets a text not meant for him and he finds himself faced with Billy freaking Hargrove looking like every wet dream Steve has ever had in the past fifteen years since he finished high school.

“Sorry, I’ll be right with you.”

Steve made a vague noise of acknowledgement, too busy staring at the message he’d opened as he’d stepped into the first flower shop he’d spotted.

“Can’t wait to see you tonight baby. I’ll tell Steve I have to work late. Love you x”

He blinked a few times but the words didn’t change. The text was clearly not meant for him. Or maybe it was, he rationalised. That was one way to break up with your boyfriend without having to have the conversation.

He ran a tired hand over his face and put his phone back in his pocket. He wouldn’t need flowers after all. He tried to remember how much stuff he’d left at Jamie’s place during the few months they’d been dating and wondered if there was anything he’d miss if he didn’t get it back.

“I am sorry but it turns out I don’t actually need flowers after all,” he said, his eyes floating over the various buckets of colourful blooms in front of him.

“Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?” The voice sounded surprised and familiar and Steve turned around to face its owner.

“Hargrove?” Steve said in shock, stepping closer to the counter. He hadn’t seen Billy Hargrove since graduation fifteen years ago. “What are you doing in Chicago? I always thought you went back to Cali…”

Billy shrugged and Steve took a moment to really look at him. He still had those light brown, almost golden, curls that Steve had always wanted to run his fingers through, piled high in a bun, his face fuzzy with scruff, blue eyes trained on Steve. That part at least was familiar. Steve let his eyes move down, taking in the white tee, tight across the front under the black apron with the shop’s logo on it, Billy’s biceps bulging when he crossed his arms over his chest. Steve’s mouth felt very dry all of a sudden and hoo, was it always this hot in this store?

Billy raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He did, however, run that tongue of his along his bottom lip, another familiar sight, one that resonated inside Steve’s chest, in a place he’d been ignoring for years.

“Um, sorry, didn’t mean to…” Steve fumbled, fidgeting with his fingers. Fuck. He was being so awkward for no reason. He was usually a little bit better at human interactions.

“It’s okay, pretty boy, I know my good looks can be distracting,” Billy replied with a chuckle and Steve felt his face heat up. “To answer your question, my car broke down outside of St Louis and I realised I’d been kidding myself. There was nothing in Cali for me anymore. And I couldn’t leave Max alone with Neil.”

“Ah. I-I heard about him but Max never said—”

“I told her to keep a secret. Couldn’t risk Neil finding out. I made it back to Indianapolis on the Greyhound. Met a nice lady on the bus who offered me a place to stay for a while. Worked my ass off in a bunch of different jobs. Mona and her partner kinda adopted me, so when they moved to Chicago, I followed.”

“That’s why Max went to college in Chicago, isn’t it? Because you were there too?” Steve asked, a few things making more sense now that he knew about Billy.

“Yep. Got her out of the dorms too. She loved it at Mona’s as much as I did.”

Steve smiled. He was glad that Billy and Max had gotten away from his asshole father. He had only managed it himself recently, after more than a decade of working for his dad, being belittled every time Richard Harrington was in the office, no matter how good Steve actually was at doing his job. He’d jumped at the chance when he’d seen that job listing in Chicago and he’d cherished forever the memory on his father’s face when he’d handed in his resignation.

“That’s great, Billy,” he finally replied, and meant it.

“What about you, princess? What brings you to the Windy City?”

“Oh, I live here too. Been here about three years, I think. I don’t have to tell you how good it felt to be able to tell my dad I was leaving and he could shove it.”

“Ooooh, go Stevie! Always knew you had it in you.”

Steve laughed and shook his head. “Took me twelve years but I got there in the end…”

“That’s what matters.” Billy grinned. “So, what are you after? Roses for your girl, on account of the day? Or something more original?”

“Oh, um, I, um…” Steve sighed. “I was gonna get flowers for my boyfriend, but after the text I got before, I don’t think I will.”

“Boyfriend?” Billy was staring and Steve realised he probably needed to elaborate a little.

“Yeah… My best friend Robin helped me realise some important things about myself after high school. She made being queer in Hawkins a lot easier. We were flatmates for ages then she moved to Chicago to be with her girlfriend. You know her, actually, Heather? Holloway?”

“Oh. Wow. Yeah, I remember Heather. So you’re…”

“Bi. Yeah.”

“And you have a boyfriend.” The way Billy said it, it wasn’t a question.

It left a bad taste in Steve’s mouth. He got his phone out of his pocket again and sent Jamie a text saying they were over.

“I had a boyfriend.” Steve snorted. “Whoever he meant to text when he texted me can have his cheating ass.”

“You don’t seem too cut up about it,” Billy said, his eyes roaming over Steve and Steve found that he liked it. All at once, memories of basketball training and all the posturing and looks Billy would send him in the showers and hallways of Hawkins High took on a different flavour. All the pet names Billy used to call him when they were teenagers… the same ones he’d used a couple of times in the past ten minutes they’d been chatting.

“I’d only been seeing him for a couple of months, wasn’t anything serious.” Steve decided to take a chance. He crossed his arms and leaned forward on the counter. “It does mean I am now free tonight…”

Billy mirrored his actions, the smile on his face genuine and warm. “Is that so, pretty boy?”

“Uh huh… yanno, in case anyone was wondering.”

“That’s certainly pertinent information.”

“I thought so.” Steve leaned a little closer, smiling when Billy did too. “What time does this fine establishment close?”

“Right now,” Billy replied, without a glance at his watch as he removed his apron and set it on the counter next to them.

“Really? Won’t you get in trouble with your boss for closing early on Valentine’s Day?”

“I’m the boss and I have a hot date,” Billy said with that smirk that had always made Steve’s blood boil. Only now he could name that emotion for what it was: lust. There was something else in Billy’s eyes, something more magical and durable.

“Anyone I know?” Steve asked, his heart beating double time in his chest.

Billy didn’t reply, instead he rounded the counter and came to a stop in front of Steve with a grin. He cupped Steve’s face with both hands and breached the last inches separating them, bringing their mouths together. Steve moaned, his hands on Billy’s wrists to hold him there. He opened his lips to Billy’s questing tongue the second he felt it, pouring all that he was feeling into the kiss, and getting it back ten fold.

Steve let go of Billy’s wrists to grab his waist and dragged him closer. He couldn’t get enough of Billy, hands roaming up his back and down to cup that ass Steve had been dreaming about for months after high school, sparking his bi awakening.

“Fuck, Billy, I’m sorry it took me so long to find you again,” Steve said, breaking the kiss to catch his breath, resting his forehead against Billy’s.

“S’okay, Stevie, you’re here now,” Billy said, dipping his head for a quick kiss. He buried his fingers into Steve’s hair and locked eyes with him. “Never letting you go now I’ve got you, though, I hope you know that.”

“Fine with me,” Steve said as he wrapped his arms around Billy’s middle, delighted to feel Billy’s hard body against his.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Steve. I don't know what flowers you like yet, so I got you a whole flower shop.”

Steve laughed as Billy locked up for the night then they went up to the apartment Billy was renting above the shop where Billy cooked them dinner. Then they spent all night in bed, worshipping each other, and it was the best Valentine’s Day Steve had ever had.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #dragonflylady77 #valentine's day #florist billy hargrove

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yelenasdiary · 9 months

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ive got an angst request! reader grew up with yelena in the red room and they were inseperable, and ruthless assassin partners and have always been there for each other but after they graduated, yelena went on to become a subjugated widow while the reader was sold by dreykov to hydra to train with bucky to become a winter soldier, and she gets the super soldier serum. years pass and she escapes, becoming an avenger but she eventually goes on the run after the accords and meets back up with yelena and nat during black widow and helps them take down the red room. even more time passes and yelena and reader become girlfriends and even better partners than they were before but then she survives the blip while yelena is dusted and theres a bunch of angst as natasha tries to pull her basically sis in law out of a slump as they both grieve yelena together but when given the chance to bring everyone back, reader ends up being the one to take on thanos in the end and slight of hands the stones off of him and snaps to destroy him and his armies. it ends with nat comforting yelena as they sit at readers grave. ive got a fun idea for part 2 if your interested in reader somehow surviving the whole thing but still having faked her death.

It Was Always The Plan

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Fem! Super Solider! Reader

Summary: After losing your girlfriend to the blip, you struggled to cope. Natasha lends a helping hand while you plan to take down the superhuman who took her away from you.

AC: Thank you for sending this & in great background detail!! It’s unknown (well to me anyways) if Alexei and Melina survived the blip so I’ve added a little extra detail, I hope you enjoy this x As for a part 2, I’m not sure if we’ll do one but we’ll see.

Year 1 -

Natasha placed a mug of hot coco in front of you before she took a seat across from you. It's been a struggle, but she finally managed to get you out of bed, even if it was just to sit at the table and have a hot drink with her. A few months ago, you lost your girlfriend, Yelena, to the blip. At first you didn't think she was turned into tiny pieces of dust, given that she was on a mission at the time, and you just assumed she would contact you when she was safe. But when Natasha tracked down Yelena's last whereabouts, it became clear that the blonde was gone, just like half the population.

Since Natasha told you what you feared, things have been dark and cold. Life just didn't seem enjoyable. You missed Yelena, deeply. But under the grief, you were angry and wanted nothing more than to destroy the one person who took the best part of you away, Thanos.

"Is there any plans yet?" you looked up at Natasha, a question you'd ask her once a week and every answer was the same, "No" she replied softly with a light shake of her head. Every no that left her lips made your heart break once more. You tried to be mindful that Natasha was also hurting, losing her sister isn't easy but it was clear that Natasha was dealing with the grief in her own way.

Every day she'd come by your room and check in on you, encourage you to come to team meetings, go for a walk or just simply come join her downstairs for a hot drink as you are right now. There were times where you allowed yourself to break down into tears while Natasha comforted you, something next to nobody has ever seen from you besides Yelena.

Year 2 –

As time went on, things didn't exactly get easier, but you learnt to cope with it in different ways. Natasha was the one who really pulled you out of the darkness of your room and continued to keep an eye on you which in many ways helped you both grow closer in more of a sister-in-law way and you almost felt like Yelena was still here.

You trained daily in the gym, attended team meetings, went on small missions when needed but in your own free time was when you found yourself trying to find ways to reverse Thanos's snap. Whenever you came up with something that you thought might be useful it always led to a dead end, and you were back to square one.

You also continued the work Yelena was doing with Melina before the blip, saving other widows. With the blip, it made it harder to track down some widows as they were also blipped but those who you and Melina could save brought some comfort and you only hoped that when (and if) Yelena would come home, she'd be glad that others were saved during this hard time.

Year 3 –

By now, dealing with loosing Yelena and the others was leaving the emptiness within your heart even deeper and for most, life when on. Mission came and went, Widows were still being saved from Dreykov's control even though he was dead, and the world moved on, like human nature.

Each night you found yourself seeing Yelena in your dreams or remembering good times you had with her. Memories from Red Room to meeting up with her again after years, you could still feel the way she kissed you before she left for a mission and the way you loved having her fall asleep in your arms. She made you feel like the world was in your hands, just the two of you in this world that almost made no sense to either of you.

You missed the way Yelena would tease you for almost everything, only for you to tease her back. You missed everything about her that eventually you'd fall asleep with tears rolling down your cheeks just wishing she'd walk through that door and apologise for being away for so long. You thought about how she'd tell you that her mission when wrong and she was taken and finally was able to escape or that she was out at sea and couldn't contact you.

But every scenario you played out in your head made you feel stupid for thinking that Yelena would let you and her family go this long without hearing from her.

Year 4 –

"You hit training pretty hard today, are you okay?" Natasha asked as you entered the compounds kitchen drenched in sweat. You nodded and smiled softly, "just making sure I'm ready" you replied before grabbing a cold bottle of water.

"Ready for what?" Natasha questioned.

"You know, for when we finally find Thanos and bring them home" you explained with confidence which only grew to Natasha's endless worries on you. Each day you showed that you were okay with how things were, that you were finding a way to cope but just like everybody around you, nobody was okay, not truly.

Everybody was doing something to try and fix things.

----

When you saw Scott rushing to Natasha's office you felt something that felt like it was slipping away, hope. The look on Natasha's face when she came to see you hours later only confirmed what you and everybody else had been hoping for.

"We have a plan" Natasha looked at you with a soft smile, a sparkle of hope in her eyes made you smile, "let's bring her home" you replied.

The only thing on your mind when it came to fighting the superhuman who took away your true happiness and the rest of your loved ones, was them. Nothing else mattered to you but making sure Thanos would pay and you were determined to make sure he knew that he messed with the wrong team of Avengers.

You'd been training yourself up for this, taking the gauntlet from the purple enemy knowing exactly what you were going to do next.

"Time's up big boy" you smirked as Thanos turned around an faced you, his gauntlet on your hand boiled his blood. "You don't understand!" he spat. "No, you don't understand! You took the one person I love more than anything from me! You took my friends and family! There's no forgiveness for that in my books!" You looked him directly into his eyes, raising your hand up slightly.

"Y/N! NO!" Natasha yelled as she ran towards you, "that wasn't the plan!" she added as you looked to her.

"This was always the plan, Nat" you smiled softly. "I know you'll take care of her" you added before your eyes looked back at Thanos and snapped your fingers together without a second thought other than knowing Yelena and the others would finally be coming home.

----

Every single day since Natasha brought her to your grave, Yelena would visit you. She'd bring some of your favorite snacks and just sit with you until she felt okay again. Natasha was never too far, always ready to be a shoulder for her sister to cry on.

"You idiot" Yelena shook her head as she placed a kiss on your gravestone, "you were supposed to be here, waiting. Not like this" she added.

Most interactions started off like this, first Yelena would show anger and hurt but soon it would change to how much she misses you and talking to you about the things she wants to do to keep your memory alive, letting you know that she'll never let anybody forget who saved the world. Then Natasha would come sit with her before the two of them shared their favorite memories with you.

It would take some time for Yelena to adjust, like you did. But she knew she had everybody she needed around her, even you and Natasha would be the one to make sure that Yelena would never forget about you, not that she ever would.

#yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel #fanfiction #black widow

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vnmpior · 2 years

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I see someone write for Voltron, I request. Anywho, I wonder how an enemies to lovers scenario would go with Keith and a Female s/o. S/O is goofy, too kind for this world, and naive and yet is still gets good grades. However, much to Keith's luck, she's denser than bricks and is oblivious to his dislike towards her.

HOLY SHIT I HAVENT SEEN THIS UNTIL NOW IM SO SORRY IDEK WHEN YOU REQUESTED THIS

now idk if you wanted it in the cannon au or a high school setting, but I'll do both

IS THE VOLTRON FANDOM EVEN STILL ALIVE?? I NEED VOLTRON MOOTS

canon paladin au

☆ keith hates anyone that continues to bother him even after he drops subtle hints to leave him alone

☆ like you'll be going on and on about some topic that he doesn't care about

☆ but he can't bring himself to tell you to shut up

☆ you and lance are the duo to end him

☆ a goofy smart one, and a questionable goofy one

☆ its more of a one sided enemy rivalry type situation, since you think keith is fine with you (he's not)

☆ he can't help but notice the small things about you

☆ but he thinks that's because you irritate the shit out of him

☆ it's not

☆ your constantly happy-go-lucky mood actually makes him feel better at times

☆ he'll start to warm up to you and maybe even discover his feelings for you, realizing he doesn't hate you

☆ he'll start getting a bit more flustered while training with you

☆ and you'll be oblivious to this as you were with his hatred for you a while back

☆ eventually he'll gather the courage to ask you out only to find out you've liked him ever since you met him

☆ he felt guilty because he really did not like you during that time

☆ you're the yin to his yang </3

high school/galaxy garrison academy

☆ he dreaded having you as his tutor

☆ you were too. . . nice (for his lil emo broken hearted self)

☆ he didn't like that, and he hated having you teach him

☆ you managed to keep him from dropping out, and even he can't explain why he decided not to

☆ he never responded to your questions, but you didn't let that deter you from you smiling brightly at him and continuing on

☆ he realized he really did listen to you, and in fact, his grades massively improved

☆ he still did not feel like interacting with you though

☆ until one day where your mood was obviously different

☆ you didn't even bother continuing on when keith didn't respond, and instead went quiet and stared down at the textbook in front you

☆ he thought you were simply reading ahead, just in case you didn't know the material, but minutes passed and you stayed silent.

☆ "you alright?" keith asked

☆ you nodded and simply carried on, finally breaking the silence with what seemed like a less energetic version of how you usually act

☆ eventually, you told him by the end of the session that someone had told you that he absolutely despised you

☆ rare keith L

☆ which was true. a few months ago.

☆ now he was absolutely enamored with you

☆ your personality really brings out the best in him and he realized that

☆ he quickly argued against that statement and while stumbling over his words, he accidentally confessed

☆ he would never forget that that's the most joyful he's ever seen you

#voltron #voltron legendary defender #keith x reader #keith voltron #voltron keith #keith kogane #keith kogane x reader #x reader #voltron x reader

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thetarttfuldickhead · 10 months

Text

It’s seems unlikely that Roy will have time to get up every morning to train with Jamie now that he’s been made manager, but since neither of them feels quite right if they don’t spend absurd amounts of time together they’ll meet up for breakfast after Jamie’s early morning work-out at least three times a week, and then go into work together.

As they spend more and more time hanging out without the excuse of training, though, Roy gets a little particular about keeping things extra professional in the work place: there’s no beating the favouritism allegations, not truly, but when at Richmond he tries to keep it at the Jamie is our best player and my special project and I am going to be extra hard on him-level rather than the Jamie is my best friend and I’m furious about how much I love him-level.

And Jamie’s good with it, too, being all respectfully Coach and doing as he’s told and carefully not giving Roy any lip while they’re on the clock. But because this is Roy it gets a little bit ridiculous at times, potentially leading to interactions like this:

A regular morning a few months into the season, Roy and Jamie arriving just in the nick of time, chatting and grinning as easily as you please when they saunter into the dressing rooms with just a few minutes to spare. Jamie goes to his cubby, Roy steps into his office – only to come right back out:

“Oi, Tartt! Training starts in five minutes, why the fuck haven’t you changed yet?”

As the room around them hushes for a moment, Jamie’s face is a study in confusion turning to incredulity to fucking really, man? “Sorry, Coach,” he says, and there’s just the tiniest hint of snark in his voice. “Bloke who gave me a ride here took ages finishing his toast ‘cause he couldn’t stop nattering on about this play his niece put on last night.”

At that, the rest of the team decide that this is just Roy and Jamie being Roy and Jamie again, nothing to worry about, so they go back to tying their shoelaces and what-not. Roy, however, takes a step closer, waving his finger in Jamie’s face.

“I’m not interested in you fucking excuses, Tartt. Part of your job is being here and ready on time, so don’t go fucking blaming others if you can’t manage that, do you hear me?”

Jamie just looks at him. Roy looks right back, not breaking, and eventually Jamie rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay. Sorry, Coach. Won’t happen again.”

“Good.” Roy nods slowly in that angry way of his, and then he stalks back to his office.

Jamie looks to Sam, probably, and they do their whole little thing of can you fucking believe it and you signed up for this, my friend, so you better suck it up.

Shaking his head at this coldhearted (but fair) lack of support, Jamie turns to Cockburn as he begins to hurriedly change, confiding: “The play was dead good and all, but not like I wasn’t there to see it myself, right? Didn’t really need a scene-by-scene breakdown of it, did I?”

(And then after training they leave together again to go have dinner with Keeley, probably.)

#sorry i’m on a roy being ridiculous kick lately #he's just so fucking funny when he's being ridiculous and i love him a lot #roy and jamie's continued adventures in being utterly weird #roy kent #jamie tartt #roy & jamie #royjamie #ted lasso #crack #random ramblings #my stuff

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harrygoeswest · 10 months

Text

Harry Styles is your sworn enemy. You've decided to take a holiday in the Scottish Highlands, and so has he. And there's only one bed…

~~~

A/N: Hiiiiii! I think I announced this like 3 months ago and never finished it, but we're finally here! I actually really fucking love this story. I've never done this 'one bed' trope before, nor an enemies-to-lovers OU, because EVERYONE loves H man, right? Well, not this YN. And he's not too fond of her either. I'm really excited to share it with you. Again, what started as a one shot grew into a two-parter because I simply cannot contain myself when the ball starts rolling. Anyhoo, to my forever friend @all-things-fic, thank you as always for reading this through and making me snort at your comments and being the ultimate validator <3

Word Count: 13,261 Trigger Warnings: Swearing (obvs), vomiting, bed-sharing with a sexy man

~~~

Rain. Persistent, unabated, never-ending, relentless rain. It was all you’d heard and seen all day and you were sick of it. You’d never really minded it until today, but thanks to one shit-show after another, you were ready to relinquish it. You wanted it gone. Your summer holiday was already off to a bad start.

“Bad day?”

Where to begin?

A cabin in the Scottish Highlands had sounded like the perfect escape for a four-week break away from the city. You had work to do, deadlines to meet, but at least you could do it without being interrupted. Without the sounds of pedestrians and car horns and wayward seagulls and bike bells. Yep, the Highlands still sounded perfect, but the endless string of catastrophes made you wonder if it really was perfect or rather just a ridiculous indulgence.

No. You deserved this break. Bad day or not, the holiday was needed.

When your brother had told you a year ago that he’d bought a holiday home in the Highlands you hadn’t exactly been surprised. He and his wife had been talking about it for years, and he’d finally earned enough money through his music career to be able to do it. Sadly, with your own deadlines and packed schedule, this was the first time in said year you’d been able to find time to go.

Apparently the all-knowing entity in your life had other plans.

You were supposed to come by plane first thing this morning, but your car had broken down on the way to the airport and you spent 3 hours waiting for the AA to rescue you. You had then managed to rearrange your flight to a later one, but because of the weather, all other flights out of Bristol had been cancelled for the day. You then spent a ridiculous amount of money on a 10 hour train from Bristol to Inverness with a change at Edinburgh in between, and were now forking out on a taxi to take you the rest of the way.

At that particular point in time, a cabin in the middle of nowhere seemed like a dreadful fucking idea.

“Could say that.” You managed weakly.

The driver chuckled to himself and you tried not to squeal. “Nearly there now. Fifteen minutes or so.”

There is a God!

Forty-five minutes later he finally stopped in the middle of a single track road. Your eyelid had been twitching for half that time, and a headache was forming in your left temple.

He turned over his shoulder and flashed a grin. He was missing an incisor and three of his other teeth were gold. “This is as far as I can get you. Cabin is at the top of that hill.”

You gave him a look, then peered out the window. All you could see was rain and mud and a black night. “What hill?”

“You’ll find it. Fare is sixty.”

“Sixty quid?”

He nodded. “Scottish if you’ve got ‘em. I’m a collector.”

“We agreed on forty. And no, I don’t have any bloody Scottish notes.” A Scottish man collecting Scottish money! On what planet?!

“No, sixty.”

You muttered expletives under your breath and shoved the money at him over his shoulder.

“Y’alright gettin’ your own case, love? Don’t really want t’ get wet.”

“Un-fucking-believable.”

In the shittiest, snappiest manner you could muster, you got out of the car and retrieved your luggage from the boot, slamming every door you touched. The driver immediately pulled off once the boot was closed, pipping his horn.

“Wanker!” You yelled after him.

Finding your bearings, you located the ‘hill’ he’d been talking about, forcing down your frustration at the size of the damn thing as you started up the pathway. You dragged your suitcase behind you through the mud, grateful it had a hard and waterproof plastic exterior. At least after all this you’d be able to take a shower and change into clean clothes.

It took you an embarrassing amount of time to reach the cabin, thanks to not only the rain but also the brutal wind. When you finally reached the porch you fell onto it, greeted by the most intense relief you’d ever felt. You took a minute to recover from your exercise, and then fumbled around on the dark porch for the stone your brother had left the key under.

“Aha.” Delighted when you found it, you pulled the key out of the rock and shoved it in the door, unlocking it.

Heat floated over your body, as did warm, homey light. Weird. Why were the lights on?

Then did your eyes land on the thing that was most definitely out of place.

A loud, shrill scream ripped from your body.

A man was in the cabin. A naked man. Mostly. The only thing saving him and you was the towel wrapped around his waist. Shiny back, muscly arms, damp neck, wet hair. At the sound of your wail he turned around, equally as alarmed.

“What the-?”

In his panic, the grip he had on his towel slipped, and you were given more of an eyeful than you ever bargained for.

You screamed again and reached for the closest thing to you, then lurched it across the room at him. Then your brain caught up with you, and you pulled the door closed again, separating you from him. You were back outside in the cold.

That man wasn’t just anyone. He’d never been just anyone. He was your sister-in-law’s friend. He was your brother’s boss, to a degree. He was your worst fucking nightmare rolled into physical human form.

He was Harry fucking Styles.

This was officially the worst day of your life.

“No, no, no, no, no.” You repeated, over and over again as you paced the porch, head in your hands. You knocked into your suitcase multiple times and it ended up falling down the porch steps into a muddy puddle. You tripped over a loose piece of decking at least twice. You caught your hip on the porch bannister, too. But none of it registered with you while your brain cycled between images of Harry’s naked back and his large appendage.

How could this be happening? What had you done to deserve such a catastrophic start to your holiday? You couldn’t stay here. Not with that man. That man that you hated, and who hated you in return. This was a disaster.

You dug your phone out of your sopping handbag. No signal.

“Oh, come on.” You hissed.

Stubborn as always, you tried to call your brother anyway. Repeatedly. Twenty times, at least, each one failing to connect. You couldn’t even leave a voicemail. You raised the phone to the sky like it was baby Simba. Still nothing.

“Fuck!”

The door swung open, and Harry said your name in a low grunt.

You swivelled, glare like a dagger. “You. Why the fuck are you here?”

“Why am I here?” He scoffed. He was clothed now, in a t-shirt and jogging bottoms. “Why are you here?”

“This is my brother’s cabin! I have a key! He said I could stay here!”

“Well, guess what?” He leaned forward, arms crossed. “Holly said I could stay here, too.”

You wanted to throw your phone at his stupid face. “Fucking great.”

“There’s obviously been some misunderstanding.” He straightened.

“You don’t say…”

His gaze narrowed. “You’re impossible.”

“At least I’m not the one who’s stupid enough to state the obvious.”

You turned away again and tried your brother one more time. The beep beep beep that told you the call had failed yet again had your stomach in knots.

“There’s no phone signal here.”

“Yes, thank you. Just go back inside.”

“No.”

“For the love of Christ, why not?”

“I’d rather see what you’re going to do with yourself.”

You turned another glare on him. “Oh, I’m so glad that the shitty situation I’ve found myself in is entertaining you, Harry. Please, mock me some more. The resulting anger might actually take the chill out of my fucking toes.”

He looked like he was about to open his mouth, but you didn’t let him.

“You know, this really has been the day from hell. It’s been a categorical disaster from start to finish, and finally getting myself here only to find you, of all people, really is the cherry on top of my whopping slice of shit pie. So please, do me this one favour, and sod off back inside.”

His jaw ticked, and he emitted a low growl before he slammed the door of the cabin and left you in the cold, wet night.

A sob wracked through you, and you flopped down on the top step just to let your body deflate for five minutes. It was so cold you were shivering. Your clothes clung to your body like sheets of ice, your lips were cracked, and a bite ate away at your toes.

You knew you couldn’t do much tonight. You’d have to wait until tomorrow, for when the storm hopefully passed, and you could call your brother to give him a gobful and then walk into the village to find a B&B or cheap hotel. You hadn’t forgotten that your train ticket was a set day return for four weeks’ time. You’d just have to wait until Harry was gone before you took your time to enjoy the cabin like you’d planned.

When you finally calmed down you dragged your suitcase out of the mud and dropped it on the driest part of the deck. You dug around for the jumper you’d brought with you and pulled it over your frozen torso. You also took your shoes and socks off and put two clean pairs on. Once you were wrapped back up in your coat, you settled on the armchair that was the least wet and tried to go to sleep.

After five minutes or so, the cabin door creaked open again.

“Come inside, please.” Harry’s voice was void of any emotion.

“No.”

“You’ll get sick if you stay out here.”

“Rather that than share a bed with you.”

“And you think I want to share a bed with you, either?”

“Then we’re both on the same page. I’m fine out here.”

“You are not fuckin’ fine out here. It’s shitting it down, for fuck’s sake, you could get a flu. Or worse.”

You hadn’t opened your eyes so you had no idea what his facial expression read. “I’m surprised you give a shit enough to care.”

“I don’t particularly, but I like your brother and I don’t want him thinking I didn’t at least try to get you to be sensible when it’s fucking biblical outside.”

“I’ll pass.”

Harry took a deep breath, and he muttered, “Bloody insufferable woman,” before he slammed the door again.

You snuggled further into the chair, shoving your hands under your face. You thought that would be the end of it, but no more than thirty seconds later the door swung back open. You pretended to ignore him, expecting a verbal taunt. Instead, all you got was scuffing noises.

Pushing down the urge to growl like he did at you, you squeezed your eyes shut and faked indifference at his huffy grunting. Until he dragged you out of the chair and hauled you into the cabin in three easy movements.

“What are you doing?” You demanded, scowling at him as he locked the door behind you.

“You can be as stubborn and petty as you like about this, but you are not staying outside in the rain. End of story.”

“I was fine!”

“You were not fine.” He folded his arms again. “Look at you, for fuck’s sake. You’re about five seconds away from catching hypothermia. You think I want that on my hands? You, of all people, needing my attention every day for the next five weeks? I don’t, by the way. I came here for a holiday, too.”

“I didn’t bring myself here to be a God damn burden to you, Harry. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Why don’t you go and get in the shower, and maybe you’ll calm the fuck down.”

You inched closer to him. “Oh, I’m sure you’d love that. Me, following your orders like some sycophant.”

He took a step closer to me. “I would, actually. It might make you somewhat tolerable.”

“Get fucked, Harry.”

“Sounds like you need that more than I do.”

You produced a noise somewhere between a grunt and a squeal, and shoved at his chest once before you stalked away. “Prick.”

He hummed, entertained. “Try not to think about mine while you’re in there. I’m sure the sight of it has left you with enough to be desired.”

Too tired to argue with him anymore, you threw your middle finger at him over your shoulder.

Whether you’d been forced inside against your will or not, you really did want a shower before a permanent chill settled over you. You turned the water on and let it run hot. The second it swilled over your body you let out a helpless moan.

You stood stoic underneath it for an indeterminate amount of time, just willing your body to warm up. The day washed away from you, worries temporarily forgotten while you soaked up as much heat as you could. Oh, it was glorious. A shower had never been so rewarding.

After a while you realised you didn’t have any of your shower stuff with you, still locked in your suitcase, and you let out a huff. You surveyed what Harry had brought with him and spent too long debating whether it was socially acceptable to wash using your mortal enemy’s shower gel. You decided against it and would properly wash in the morning.

Taking another ten minutes, you decided you were ready to face Harry again and whatever bollocks he might throw your way. You found a towel and gave your hair a dry, then wrapped it around your body. You hadn’t thought this through in your desperation to get away from him.

You stepped out of the room with purpose and marched over to where Harry had abandoned your suitcase after dragging it inside earlier, and carefully picked your way through it to find your pyjamas and toothbrush. Without giving the man even the slightest glance, you locked yourself back up in the bathroom to change and clean your teeth.

“Forget your clothes?” Harry asked at your second reappearance.

“Why ask a question you already know the answer to?” You gave a roll of your eyes.

He sat straighter in the armchair he was settled into, “Why answer a question with another question?”

You ignored him. Instead you gave yourself the opportunity to actually take in your brother’s second home. You realised it was tiny. Like Tiny Home tiny. When he said he’d bought a cabin you thought he meant something like a chalet. But no, this was small. A kitchenette had been built into the right-hand wall by the front door with a fridge, a two-plate hob and a stainless steel sink. Two armchairs sat either side of a small birch table, and a double bed at the back of the room with a cherrywood wardrobe. A woven rug gave the space a homey feel, balancing the bare oak that gave foundation for the rest of the place.

A sinking feeling buried in you when you realised there wasn’t a sofa.

You rubbed a hand into your cheek, feeling slightly cheated by your brother and his wife.

“You look like you’re about to pass out.” Harry said into the quiet, all malice and jest lost.

“I feel like it.” You admitted, turning your stare on the bed. “I’m just tired.”

He cleared his throat and stood. “I sleep on the left.”

You refrained from giving him another eye roll and instead focussed on settling down. You left your phone on the dining table, plugged in to charge overnight, poured a glass of water which you drank in one long swig, and then returned to the bed.

“What are you doing?”

Harry had settled on the left side of the bed but with his head at the foot and his feet at the top. If he slept on the left, did that not completely defeat the purpose of his claim?

“Top and tail.”

“Yeah, no. Absolutely not.” You shook your head.

“Why not?”

“I am not giving you the opportunity to stick your foot in my face at any given point in the night.”

He kissed his teeth and sat up with a scowl. “Woman, you have got some major fuckin’ trust issues.”

“With you I do, absolutely.”

You waited until he was in bed the right way up before you slipped in yourself and turned the light off. The room was cast in darkness and your eyes struggled to adjust. You faced away from Harry on your side, wriggling to find a comfortable position, and you could hear him doing the same.

His foot was definitely on your side of the bed so you kicked it away. He then tried to take the covers off you, but you were quick to snatch them back. He let out a deep sigh.

“Can I have some of the quilt, please?”

“You’ve got some.”

“I have none.”

“Bullshit.”

He ripped the covers away again, and you fought the urge to squeal.

“Give some back.”

“You have some.” He said in the same tone you had.

“Harry.”

“What?”

“I’m cold.”

“You’ve just spent an hour using up all the hot water so I refuse to believe that.”

“What is your problem?”

“You are.”

You grit your teeth. Folding your arms, you scooted as close to the edge of the bed as possible without falling off. Arguing with him was fruitless, it just left you angry and wired.

Tomorrow, you resolved to find somewhere, anywhere else to stay. For now, you’d try to sleep uncomfortable and coverless.

Had you slept?

No.

For hours you’d imprisoned yourself on the edge of the bed, cold and coverless, hugging yourself in an attempt to keep warm, and squeezing your eyes closed just praying that sleep would come. But it never did. You’d think after the day you had yesterday it would be easy to just drop off. Why would it be that simple for you?

You knew it was light outside now thanks to the inside of your eyelids. You decided then to give up. Sleep wasn’t coming.

As you opened your eyes you realised how close to the edge of the bed you were. At the same time, Harry wriggled again, further onto your side of the mattress, and his knee nudged your backside.

Oh no.

Struggling to find anything to hold onto, your body tumbled over the edge. A panicked yelp tore out of you, followed by a grunt and a thud when you hit the floor.

“Ow.” You whimpered. You’d fallen on your front, knee and toe first followed by your head. You rolled onto your back and held onto your forehead as if it might stop the pounding you felt.

Laughter started, and your eyes flew open to find Harry hovering over the side of the bed, green eyes shining. You were, actually, somewhat offended by how entertained he was. If it was acceptable to hit people, you’d be hitting him.

“You alright down there?”

“No I’m not fucking alright, Harry.”

Your own anger made the throbbing in your head worse so you stayed on your back.

“Alright, was only a question.”

“This is your bloody fault - you’re a bed hogger!”

“Yeah? Well you snore!”

“Considering I didn’t get a single second of sleep last night I don’t know how you’ve landed on that conclusion, and I can only assume you’ve made it up to piss me off.”

“You were snoring.” He said in a flat voice.

“No I wasn’t.”

The throbbing got worse again, so you squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep breath. Then another.

“You’ve hit your head.”

If the thought of rolling your eyes didn’t make you nauseous you’d absolutely do it. “If there was an award for Best Observationist, you’d win it.”

“Do you need ice or something?”

His voice had changed and it somewhat startled you. You peeled an eye open again to find he hadn’t moved - he was still hanging over the bed. His expression, however, was neutral.

“Yes. Please.”

He gave a curt nod and then disappeared. You closed your eyes again, willing the throbbing away.

“There isn’t any ice.”

You refrained from screaming, knowing it wouldn’t do you any good. “Okay.”

“Here,” his voice was much closer, and he gave a little pat to your knee, “this might help.”

Peeling an eye open, he flashed a couple of boxes of painkillers. “Panadol.” Of course the man had branded paracetamol. The 95p boxes of Sainsbury’s own shoved in your kitchen cupboard looked shameful right about now.

“Extra strength. And that rapid relief ibuprofen.”

“You brought painkillers with you on holiday?”

He shrugged. “I’m here for a long time. Hangovers need encouragement to get fucked.”

You raised a sceptic brow. “And here I thought some magical mystery Nutri-Bullet recipe would be your saviour.”

“Funny.” He muttered.

Huh. How unlike him not to shove a witty rebuttal at you.

“Do you need help getting up or are you just gonna sit on the floor all day?”

Your scowl returned. “I’m fine.”

On shaky legs and with a fuzzy head, you grabbed the side of the bed and hauled yourself up. You weren’t sure if the sudden ringing in your ears was something you should be worried about, but you persisted.

Once sat, Harry handed you the tablet boxes and fetched a glass of water for you while you thumbed out two of each.

“Thank you.” You mumbled.

“Please and thank you in the space of ten minutes?” He goaded. “Sounds like you’ve got a concussion.”

“My parents didn’t raise me in a barn.”

He stood with his broad arms folded across his chest while he watched you swallow down four tablets, face a mishmash of irritation and something else. You refused to believe it was concern so you attributed it to frustration. You were just ruining his holiday the same way he was ruining yours.

You decided to finish the water, and then Harry took the boxes and the glass from you. You laid back down, shielding the room and your eyes with your arms.

“Sure you don’t need a hospital?” His voice was far away.

“Yes. I just need to close my eyes for a bit. I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t answer, and you were thankful. Any more talking and your head might have exploded.

You’d fallen asleep. While you hadn’t intended to, you couldn’t help but be grateful for the respite. There was no way you would’ve been able to do anything on zero hours sleep, so a few was better than nothing.

You sat up, noticing that you’d corrected yourself direction-wise on the bed and pulled the covers over you. You must’ve done it subconsciously.

The cabin was quiet. Almost eerily so. There was no sign of Harry anywhere. The only sign that he’d been there at all was his own suitcase tucked away in the corner. No sound came from the bathroom, and all you could hear outside was birds.

Birds. Not rain.

You scrambled out of bed towards the front door and hauled it open, but it was locked. Harry had locked you in. You found the key your brother had left for you on the table and put it to use.

It was glorious outside. Not a cloud in the sky, blue everywhere, green even more so. And it was warm. Summer dress warm. Your feet itched to go outside, but you knew you needed to take it easy. The headache hadn’t completely subsided, but it was tolerable. Barely there. A shower and some food would fix it.

You closed the door and locked it again, determined to start your day. Steadily.

You were about to head straight for the shower when you noticed it. A brown paper bag trapped under a pretty mug, and a jar of instant coffee wedged inside it. The mug lived here - you recognised it from Holly’s old flat. But the greasy brown bag did not. You noticed the letters GF scrawled on the front.

He remembered.

Warning bells started screaming inside your head as you plucked the bag out and opened it up. The smell of cooled buttery pastry wafted from inside, and you pulled out the biggest croissant you’d ever seen.

The message was clear as day. Eat and get some caffeine in you.

This was bad. Angry Harry you could deal with any day of the week at any time of day. You could even cope with jester Harry, because you gave just as good as you got. But this? Base-level concern? It threw you for a loop.

Regardless, you were starving. So you boiled the kettle and made your coffee just how you like it as you tore off pieces of pastry and gobbled it down. While you waited for your coffee to cool once your croissant was demolished, you took a quick shower.

Half an hour later you were out the door and feeling a hell of a lot better than you had done for weeks. You wandered down into the village, the sun a glowing comfort on your bare skin.

You had a mission today: alternative accommodation.

You kept an eye on your phone for patches of signal, and called your brother whenever you found some. He never answered. Part of you wondered if he was ignoring you, and if that was the case you were going to have a very big problem. He only ignored you if he was avoiding you.

And that wasn’t even your biggest problem.

“I’m sorry, we’re full.” The receptionist at the final B&B said with barely an ounce of emotion.

“The sign outside said you had vacancies.”

“I just sold the last one over the phone. Haven’t had time to change it.” She gave me a smile that didn’t touch her eyes.

You fought a petulant sigh. “Do you know where else I can stay? I’ve tried every B&B here and no one has any vacancies.”

“Why don’t you try an AirBnB.” She suggested with a tone dripping in sarcasm. “You young people seem to love those.”

Ah, so this was a territorial issue. You gave her a flat glare and left without another word.

Yet again, you found yourself in a rut. Your good mood had been successfully wiped away. Maybe you would check AirBnB, but the thought of spending another obscene amount on accommodation filled you with a sickly feeling.

Your phone started ringing, much to your surprise. Holly. “Is my brother ignoring me?”

“I don’t know, but if he was, he probably wouldn’t tell me.” She laughed, always a fan of your no-nonsense approach. “I thought I’d call since I haven’t heard from you. Did you make it there alive?”

“Alive is not the word I’d use to describe my current state. It’s also impossible to call someone when the phone signal is worse than a World War II air raid shelter.”

Holly cackled. “You’re such a nerd. What’s wrong?”

“Either you’re playing dumb to avoid my wrath or you’re very stupid.”

She gasped your name but she was most definitely entertained. “What do you mean?”

“Harry is here. Using your holiday home.”

An extended period of silence followed, completed with a breathy, “Oh… shit.”

Oh shit, indeed.

“Well,” she seemed to shake herself, “it can’t be that bad.”

This one was truly off her rocker. “Can’t be that bad? Holly, how many times have you been in a room with me and Harry at the same time?”

“Plenty.”

“Exactly. How many times have we had a fight whilst in said same room together?”

“Almost always.”

“Not almost always, just always. We. Do. Not. Get. On.”

“Oh, babe, I think you’re being a bit dramatic.”

“There’s only one fucking bed!”

Holly went quiet for a minute, and you realised you’d earned the attention of a few passers by. You sat down on a nearby bench, wary of the throb in your head getting worse.

“Are you okay?” She finally asked.

That set you off. You launched into your shitty day from yesterday, from the car breakdown to the taxi driver to hitting your head this morning. Words without breath had never left you so fast and the feeling you were rewarded with after was less than satisfactory. Deflation. Sadness.

“Oh, hun, I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was going.” You were certain she was lying about that last sentence but you didn’t interrupt her. “I’ll get in touch with Harry and tell him to rein it in.”

“I don’t need you to curb the man on my behalf, Hol. I can handle him myself. I just… I really wish he wasn’t here.”

“Do you want me to make him leave?”

A rare sight of guilt crept its way into the centre of your stomach. You battled the urge to say yes, because you knew if Holly asked him to, he would absolutely go. “No… hardly fair. He was here first.”

“Yeah but I bet you would’ve been if all those things didn’t go wrong yesterday.”

You grunted. You were supposed to arrive just before 9am yesterday morning, not close to 11pm. “Don’t make him leave. I’m a bitch but I’m not a complete cunt.”

“You’re not either of those things by any stretch. My friend just happens to know how to really rattle your cage.”

Ain’t that the truth. “I’m trying to find a B&B or something but they’re all full.”

“Oh, please don’t spend more money.”

“I can’t stay in your cabin, Hol. I didn’t sleep last night and that man does not know how to share a queen bed.”

“It’s actually a three-quarter bed.”

“Fuck off.” You groaned.

“Look, we wanted it to be as spacious as possible there. We didn’t anticipate two people who claim to hate each other having to share it. It’s for cuddling.”

That urge to smack someone reared its ugly head. “You’re ridiculous.”

She laughed from the back of her throat, and as irritated as you were it did make you smile. “Take a long walk, babe. If you’re in the village there’s a great ice cream place near the church that’ll make you forget all about He Who Shall Not Be Named.”

You rolled your eyes. “I can say Harry, for fuck’s sake.”

She screamed as if she’d been burned, teasing you.

“Shut up.” You actually managed to laugh. “Fine. I’ll go find some ice cream. But if they’ve got WiFi I will absolutely be looking for an AirBnB.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

“Do me a favour and tell my brother to stop being a wuss.”

“Oh, come on, you know he can’t handle your wrath. You can tell him yourself, anyway.”

You started looking around to see if they’d actually come up and were just loitering nearby to piss you off.

“What?”

“We were going to surprise you but I think you might murder us if we did. We’re on our way to you. My Nanna will be coming, too - we’ve got a table booked at the pub in the village.”

Unbelievable. “You little minx.”

One of the reasons Holly and your brother bought a holiday home in Scotland was to be able to spend more time with Holly’s family. While she grew up in London and has never left it, her mum’s side of the family are all in Scotland.

Holly giggled, obviously delighted with herself. “Sorry. We’re set to arrive in about two hours.”

“But where are you staying?”

“My Nan’s house.”

“Not got a spare room, has she?” You mumbled.

“I know you don’t mean that, but she doesn’t. We’re staying on her pullout.”

“Damn.”

“We’re gonna go straight there and then come to you afterwards, alright?”

You took a deep breath and stood up from your bench. “Yeah, alright. I’ll see you in a few hours, then.”

“Byeee!”

You were already making a beeline for the ice cream shop by the time she put the phone down.

It was a cute little parlour, like something straight out of a movie. Retro tiles covered the walls and floor in pinks and yellows, two long display freezers to the left full to the brim with every single flavour one could ever imagine. Tables spread across the right and spilled onto the street, and booths in the corner each had a miniature jukebox on top.

“How can I help you?” A man behind the counter asked, dressed in a full uniform complete with the little hat.

“Hi, um,” you gave him the best smile you could, even if you were overwhelmed, “do you have any gluten free cones?”

“Sure,” he gestured to the stand on the top with a variety of cones, from small to ridiculously large in size, “just this one.”

The cone in question was the most pathetic-looking of them all. You did your absolute best to hide your disappointment. “Great, then I’ll have one of those. Chocolate, please.”

“Which type?” He lifted a brow.

You realised then that there were about ten different chocolate flavours. “Er… which is the best one in your opinion?”

That perked him up. He spent the next five minutes listing off reasons why the chocolate and hazelnut flavour was his most popular of all his options.

“I guess that’s the one I want, then.” You forced another smile.

“Coming right up.”

Something made you shiver, but it wasn’t a gust of wind or the freezers you stood by.

“At least try and act like you’re excited about it.” A deep voice murmured, far too close to your ear for your liking.

You practically hissed and took a very purposeful step away. “Jesus, Harry.”

He laughed, but the sound wasn’t spiteful like it usually would be. “Only you could make ice cream seem rubbish.”

“I don’t think ice cream is rubbish,” Was your only retort. You just wished gluten free cones didn’t look so fucking sad.

The owner handed you your cone and you paid him in cash. “Do you have WiFi in here?”

“Sure. Password’s on the wall up there.” He pointed at a laminated sign, and then turned his attention to Harry. “Hey, aren’t you that guy?”

Your cue to leave.

While Harry had an awkward conversation with the parlour owner about which guy he was, you connected to the internet and took a seat on the patio outside with your back to the sun. A satisfied hum left you at the warmth on your skin. You concentrated on demolishing your ice cream before you made a mess of yourself.

Unfortunately, Harry decided today wasn’t the day he was going to leave you alone. He sat down opposite you with a three-flavour cone, the colours unsettlingly unnatural. He looked uncomfortable, and this time it wasn’t because of you.

“What on Earth is that?”

“This is a masterpiece.” At least he could still behave like an idiot even when he’d been ‘spotted’.

“It looks disgusting.”

You watched him with a deep-seated discomfort as he shamelessly licked around his cone. Unfiltered moans came out of his mouth, but you were certain he was acting up for your benefit.

“What flavours are they?” You just had to ask.

“Mint chocolate, bubblegum and ginger.”

“Ginger?” You almost choked on a hazelnut. “Sir, you have a serious problem.”

He laughed again, that same obnoxiously easy sound as before. “Did you just call me sir?”

“I did and I immediately regret it.”

He made a noise, an amused squeak of sorts. “Why did you look so horrified by yours, anyway?”

You shifted in your chair, having just popped the end of the cone in your mouth. You glanced over your shoulder to make sure the owner wasn’t listening, pleased to find him distracted by a large family. “The gluten free options for cones was utter shite.”

“How so?”

“Well, he only had one type, and it was poxy as shit.”

He snorted. “I thought it looked small. I don’t imagine it being a lot of fun.”

You were immediately reminded of the croissant he’d picked up for you. You knew that you needed to say thank you, even if it did feel like taking a punch in the gut. “Thank you for the pastry.”

He paused mid-lick as if you’d just spoken a foreign language. He looked ridiculous and almost child-like, green eyes wide and pupils so narrow thanks to the sun they were barely visible. He rescued a drip before he made a mess. “Welcome. How is your…” he tapped his temple.

“Yeah, better.”

“Good.”

You returned to silence, and you got busy looking for a new place to stay. The options were… lacking. You knew the decision to go away during the school holidays would be a silly one anyway, but you wanted the heat. You wanted a summer holiday. Not a cold and wet one. But at such late notice in an area with limited options to begin with, all that was really left were large houses for groups of ten or places miles and miles away that would cost yet more money to travel to. The only other thing you could think of was buying a tent and pitching up on a nearby campsite, but you fucking hated tents and camping.

As time wore on and Harry’s ice cream disappeared, you noticed him growing more restless. You glanced up a couple of times to find him with his head down, but you eventually figured out the source of his discomfort. He was shooting looks at something over your shoulder while constantly readjusting his ball cap.

You straightened in your seat and twisted yourself slightly to get a better look.

“Don’t turn around.” He muttered without looking at you.

You frowned. “Why?”

He never gave you an answer so you did it anyway. A couple of tables over someone was doing a very bad job at hiding their phone.

For God’s sake.

“Do you want to swap seats?” You offered.

He gave you a startled look, and admittedly you were surprised at your own suggestion. “No.”

“You sure? The back of your head is way less appealing than the front of it.”

You could see the confusion spread across his face and you wished immediately that you could take your words back. He was too wound up to mention it now, but you knew he definitely would in the future.

“They’ve already got about fifteen minutes worth of pictures, there’s no point moving now.” He huffed and readjusted the hat on his head once more, eyes downcast.

You pursed your lips in thought. After a moment you readjusted your seat so that you were hopefully positioned right in the way. Harry gave you a blank look, eyes still darting to the people behind you.

“Do you want to go?”

“Not particularly.”

You knew what he meant. He shouldn’t have to leave just because other people didn’t know how to behave like normal human beings.

A minute later the table behind you stood and left, so something had at least worked.

“Thank you.” He said it so quietly you nearly missed it. “Your lack of subtlety was almost entertaining.”

You weren’t offended by that. You hadn’t meant to be subtle. “I know we don’t get on but I respect your privacy. You should’ve asked them to delete it.”

“Then it just makes me look like a prick.”

“But you are a prick.”

He broke into another laugh. That laugh that held no malice or spite. The one he’d only debuted today. Then he slid back to stoicism. “I’ll be all over the Daily Mail again tomorrow anyway.”

Something weird happened. Anger materialised in your chest, and it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling in the slightest. What was unusual was that it came on Harry’s behalf. Usually you felt this way because of Harry, not for him.

You cleared your throat. “It’s okay to tell people to fuck off every once in a while, Harry.”

“Not when you’re me, it isn’t.”

“It is when people don’t know how to set boundaries.”

“Don’t worry about it. Seriously.” He readjusted his cap again and sunk further into his seat. “Not the first time I’ve been spotted on holiday.”

“With a mystery woman, no less.”

He snorted. “Sorry in advance.”

“For what?”

“You’re about to become the most interesting person on the planet. I’d privatise your Instagram.”

“It already is. Nor is it very interesting.”

“Just… I don’t know. I know what they’re like.”

“You think I give a shit what a bunch of people on the internet think about me?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Have I ever given a shit what anyone else has thought about me?”

He tipped his head. “No.”

“Exactly.”

“It’s their boundaries I’m worried about.”

“Don’t be. If those pictures do make it anywhere, I’ll have no problem telling the next person to fuck off if it comes to it.”

The smallest smile tugged at his lips. “Then I really hope for their sake that there isn’t a next time.”

You hadn’t left the parlour until you’d come up with a solution to your living arrangement. It took longer than you’d like, but eventually you settled for the only option; in two weeks you’d let Harry have the cabin and move into an AirBnB a few towns over. A bungalow this time with a very big bed. You’d had to fork out a deposit since it was a booking of more than 7 nights, which put another lovely dent in your bank balance. You were really trying not to think about it.

Harry hadn’t passed comment when you told him. He just gave a blank stare and a curt nod, which was very unlike him. When it came to you, he’d never had any problem parting with his opinions.

You’d been ambushed on your way back to the cabin by your brother and Holly. After changing and freshening up you all walked down to the pub together to meet Holly’s Nanna. You had met her at the wedding but only briefly. Your brother and Holly’s special day had been somewhat dampened by the fact that Harry materialised again whenever you forgot about him and ended up drinking yourself into an early bedtime. The next morning you were rewarded with the worst hangover of your entire life.

Nanna was amazing. One of those larger than life women who weren’t afraid to drop the c word a couple of times without so much as batting an eyelid, and using Malibu as an excuse for a good time. You’d been seated on a round table which relieved you to no end. You were sandwiched between Nanna and your brother which meant there was a decent amount of distance between you and Harry.

“I need you to tell me something.” Nanna patted your arm, giving you her full attention.

It was like being addressed by royalty. “Anything.”

“I hear there’s a story about your brother involving nappies and toothpaste. A serial offence. He won’t tell me and Holly conveniently doesn’t know about it.”

You gave your brother a look.

“Please don’t.” He begged.

“But Nanna asked so nicely.”

“You’re about to embarrass me in front of the man I work for?”

You don’t look at Harry. “It’s not like you haven’t managed that all by yourself on previous occasions.”

“Yeah, don’t stop on my account.” Harry coughed, battling laughter.

“Great, we’re all on the same page.” You grinned. You turned back to Nanna, “Once upon a time, my little brother had to sleep in a crib and wear nappies just like all the other babies. He was cute, it should be said. I have a picture on my phone somewhere of him running around the garden with no clothes on.”

Your brother rolled his eyes and sunk into his seat with a scowl. Holly gave him a patronising pat on the shoulder.

“Anyway, beside the point. Like most toddlers he was an absolute tyrant, compared to me - I was an angel.”

“Hard to believe.” Harry muttered.

“Aye,” Nanna shot him a look. She’d been smitten with him all night until that point.

“Don’t worry about it - we’re in an ongoing feud.” You brushed the matter away and continued with your story. “During his reign of tyranny, he adopted a very obscure but passionate obsession with toothpaste. Colgate Cool Stripe only - no other product lived up to his expectations. It all started when, one day, our mother accidentally used adult toothpaste instead of the toddler stuff. An uphill battle began.

“Any time he had to clean his teeth, he’d try and use Colgate instead of the kiddy stuff, and mum or dad would fight with him until he surrendered in a screaming fit and had a toothbrush forced into his face hole.”

Someone sniggered, and your chest inflated. Making people laugh had always pleased you.

“His addiction got so bad, one night he managed to escape from his cot and into Mum and Dad’s bathroom. They found him on the floor with an empty tube and Colgate smushed all over his cute little face. Hours later he had a terrible accident. I won’t go into graphic detail since we’ve just had our dinner.”

Nanna started laughing, a throaty and hoarse sound. Given the amount of times she’d excused herself for a cigarette, you attributed that habit to the unique noise. “And this happened more than once?”

You nodded. “They tried locking it in the cabinet a few times, but he’d always find it. Eventually they changed tactics and just bought Aquafresh instead.”

Nanna hummed and gave him a pointed look. “I’ve always thought you were a picky bastard.”

“Nanna,” Holly gasped, shaking with laughter. She leaned her forehead against her husband’s shoulder.

“I can’t be that picky if I ended up with your granddaughter.”

Holly threw her hands up. “Does anyone else want to bully me today? Between that and being called very stupid I think I might have room for one more insult.”

“Your shoes don’t go with your dress.” Nanna said.

After a beat of silence, the table erupted into laughter.

The waiter returned to offer dessert, which you would usually forego since pubs rarely tended to offer gluten free choices without putting up a fight. You’d learned to live a sad, dessert-less existence. But everyone else was having one so you succumbed to peer pressure.

“What ice cream flavours do you have?”

“For the sundae?” The young girl asked with a confused frown.

“No, I’m coeliac so I can’t have it.”

“Oh,” her cheeks turned pink, which was not your intention, “sorry. Um, just the usual flavours, then.”

Neopolitan.

“Great, can I have two scoops of chocolate.”

“Sure.”

She was very quick to hurry off. Something bothered you about that whole exchange but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

“Aren’t you bored of chocolate ice cream?” Harry asked, but he was fiddling with his napkin rather than looking at you.

“Never.”

Holly kicked his leg under the table but you pretended not to notice.

After the bill was settled, which Harry tried to sneak off and pay for without telling anyone, you bid goodbye to each other and sent your brother, Holly and Nanna off together in a taxi. The waitress hadn’t stopped giving you wary glances ever since you asked for ice cream, and you still couldn’t place what went wrong. You might have been a little short with her but it wasn’t meant with any malice.

It didn’t really dawn on you what was wrong until you were walking up the hill to the cabin with Harry.

A curdling feeling in your stomach had you feeling very queasy very quickly.

“Oh no.” You mumbled, keeping your gaze on the grass below you. Your vision swung and you struggled to keep your balance.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, turning back to you. He’d been a couple of metres ahead of you for the entire walk so you didn’t have to force a conversation.

You sat down on the grass to keep yourself gravitated, but it was no good. You weren’t nauseous because you were dizzy, you were dizzy because you were sick.

You spent the next ten minutes vomiting into the bushes.

Harry had kept a relative distance from you while you were sick, only handing you a bottle of water when you seemed to give up the last of your stomach contents and take a big breath.

“Are you okay?” He asked in a cautious voice.

Unattractively, you swilled your mouth out and then necked the remaining contents of the bottle. “Yeah, fine.”

“What happened?”

“I think something went wrong at dinner.”

“What do you mean?”

You gave him a levelled look, trying to communicate with your eyes. It seemed like a ridiculous idea considering you could barely communicate together with words, let alone silent glances.

“Ah… did it say gluten free on the menu?”

You nodded.

“Did you tell them?”

You shook your head. Sometimes you liked to put faith in humanity and believe you’d be fine putting yourself in the hands of others. When you were dining with practical strangers, making a fuss about your condition made you feel like a twat, so you kept quiet about it. Now you wish you’d said something.

“Are you gonna make a complaint?”

You shook your head furiously and readjusted yourself to sit back on your arse rather than your knees. “Happens all the time, sadly.”

“That girl knew they’d fucked up, didn’t she?”

“You saw that?”

“I saw you looking at her a lot after the ice cream thing.”

You made a strange noise. “It is what it is. I don’t blame her for not saying anything. For all she knows I could be going home unscathed.”

“But you’re not.”

“Don’t worry about it, Harry. I’m not into making a scene.”

“You could’ve been seriously ill.”

“I know that.”

“If you don’t tell them they fucked up, how are they going to know to stop it from happening to someone else in the future?”

You took a deep breath and looked up to the sky. You and Harry had made progress today, on some weird level, but this was not part of that progress. “Fine. I’ll do something about it tomorrow.”

“No you won’t.”

“Leave it alone, Harry!” You finally snapped. “How I handle my health issues is none of your fucking business, especially when you haven’t got a fucking clue what it’s like to have them. Just drop it.”

His jaw ticked. “Fine.”

He disappeared up the hill and into the cabin without so much as another word.

You collapsed onto your back and let a tight sob wrack through you.

You contemplated what the fuck you were doing. This holiday had been nothing but a shit show from start to day 2 and you didn’t want to do it anymore. You should’ve gone home this morning. You’d refused to quit so early on given how long it had been since you had any real time off, but the universe was clearly working against you and you wished you hadn’t bothered.

As it always did, a second round of vomiting ensued, and you were back on your hands and knees hacking up bile while your stomach protested. You cried more as you threw up.

As the convulsions subsided you collapsed onto your back again, but the smell of it was starting to affect you. Slowly, you stood on shaky legs and attempted to make your way up to the cabin.

You hadn’t realised, but Harry was standing at the top of the hill wearing a frown, hands shoved into his pockets. When you caught sight of him you were ashamed. You knew what he’d said came from a good place, but it just really ground your gears when people who had no idea what it was like tried to tell you how to handle it.

He made his way back to you and silently placed his hand on the small of your back. It was warm and unfamiliar, but you couldn’t work out if the trembling from you was because of that or because you were just sick.

“How much more did you see?” You asked, helpless.

He gave you a startled look, like he was shocked to hear you so vulnerable. “Enough.”

You sighed and kept your gaze on the floor, trying not to fall over.

“Do you have any medication or anything?”

You shook your head. “It doesn’t really work like that.”

Once you got to the cabin you headed straight for the bathroom and changed into your pyjamas. You then poured yourself a glass of water and took it to bed with you. You were asleep within seconds.

You slept through the night that night. When you woke you felt a shit-ton better than you had the night before, and it left you with a smile on your face. You wriggled your legs and toes underneath the sheets and stretched your arms.

You realised the bed was empty, but when you peeled an eye open it was obvious Harry had slept on his side at some point. You sat up to an empty room. There was no sign of Harry, again.

You didn’t know much about Harry’s daily routine but you would put money on him being an early morning runner. You shivered at the thought.

He appeared whilst you were in the middle of your second round of toast. It was the only thing you could think to try and stomach after yesterday’s disaster. Harry was in regular clothes, not running attire. You owed yourself a fiver.

“Ah,” he paused at the sight of you eating toast, and limply lifted his hand. The same greasy brown paper bag rustled in his grip.

“Don’t be shy.” You patted the table after swallowing your mouthful. “I’ll still eat it.”

“You’re that hungry?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s what happens when you’re forced to empty your entire stomach contents.”

His nose wrinkled. “Right.”

You took a sip of coffee while he made himself comfortable in the seat opposite you.

“How do you feel?”

“Well, I slept the night through and didn’t hit my head this morning which is a major improvement on yesterday.”

“That’s something. Do you feel right enough to go out?”

“If I weren’t on holiday I’d be right back to work, Harry. No rest for the wicked and all.”

“Is that a yes, then?” He cocked a brow.

“Yes, Harry.”

“Okay. I was gonna go down to the lake… it’s really warm out.”

“Are you telling me, or is that an invitation?”

He picked his pastry apart. “Both? I don’t know, it might do you some good.”

Concern? From your nemesis? This was bad. “Oh, don’t go coy on me, Harry. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Knew I shouldn’t have bothered.”

“That’s more like it.”

His mouth lifted at the corner for the shortest fraction of a second.

“Is it pebbly or sandy?”

An olive branch.

“Both?”

The worst kind of lake beach, then. “The type that calls for a special type of shoe.”

He grimaced. “I know.”

“It’s fine. We make do.” You pronounced, and stood from the table with your dirty things. “Give me 20 minutes and we’ll go.”

“That alright?”

You peered up at the man blocking the sun with a pinched look. He stood before you in a faded white t-shirt and board shorts, holding an ice cream cone with a single chocolate scoop on top.

“As long as it’s the right cone, it’s perfect.”

“I double checked.” He promised as he handed it to you, and then sat with his own.

This was day four on the beach by the lake. While you and Harry spent the time there together, you did your own thing. He spent most of his time in the water like a fucking fish, and you spent yours on a towel with a book and enough food to feed the 5,000.

You’d found a tolerable medium with Harry. In the day you gave each other your needed space, and at night time you tried not to touch each other in bed. Or smother each other. So far it had worked well.

You hadn’t seen Holly or your brother since that night at dinner. They’d actually been visiting for a relative’s birthday party and had already gone home, leaving you and Harry to suffer together.

“I think you’re running low on your special bread.”

You snorted and covered your mouth. ‘Special bread’ made you sound like some kind of escaped lunatic.

“I don’t know why I said it like that.” Harry shook his head. “But the fact remains.”

“We’re running low on a lot.”

“Maybe we should go shopping.”

You groaned. This is what your life had come to: grocery shopping with a celebrity.

“I’ll make it as painless as possible.”

“Where even is the nearest supermarket?”

“I don’t know - I went shopping on the way here.”

“So did I.”

Has there ever been a more ridiculous conversation?

Harry found his phone and checked for signal, soon letting out a soft sigh. “Five weeks without WiFi was a stupid idea.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

You decided to check a map on the notice board outside the public toilets on the lake site and decided there must be a supermarket in the nearest town. Harry drove you out into the Scottish countryside following his sat-nav’s directions to the closest town.

It was a little odd being in the same car as him. While your brother’s work relationship and subsequent marriage had brought him into your life for many a family gathering, you’d never found yourself in quite such a confined space as this. Apart from the bed situation. You were certain he was being quiet on your behalf, because silence was better than small talk. The decision to go shopping had proven that much.

“Unbelievable.” He muttered the second you entered the supermarket.

You followed his nervous gaze to a man with a camera doing a shitty job at hiding. “Go back to the car if you want to.”

“Hardly fair.”

“Being uncomfortable isn’t fair.” You insisted. “Go take a drive and be back here in half an hour. I don’t mind.”

He sighed and handed you the list you’d prepared before leaving. “I’ll be back.”

“Yes, please don’t use this opportunity to abandon me here.”

He smirked. “Don’t put ideas in my head.” He took his wallet out of his pocket and handed you his card. “Use that.”

You frowned at it, and then him in turn. “I don’t mind paying for it.”

“Pay with my card and then send me half when you find signal or internet or whatever.” He turned away, but threw, “Half an hour,” over his shoulder.

You had to take a moment to collect yourself. Now you weren’t grocery shopping with a celebrity, you were using one’s credit card.

Before you started your shopping, you had one more thing you had to do. Stalking the man who was stalking your reluctant companion was easy because he didn’t try very hard to be subtle. You tapped him on the shoulder.

He spun around with a bewildered look on his face. “Yes?”

“Delete them.”

True to his word, Harry returned half an hour later with a confusing smile. “Guess what I found.”

You let him take the bags out of your hands to shove them in the boot of his car. “What?”

“A fucking Costa.”

“No way…”

“Yes way.” He grinned.

“Where?”

“Literally around the corner.” He thumbed in that general direction. “I got two ‘cause I didn’t know which one you liked.”

“As long as it’s got coffee in it, I’ll consume it.”

Sure enough, two starkly different iced coffees sat in the cup holders in his central console.

“Which one do you want?” You asked. He did buy them after all.

“I don’t mind. You choose.”

“Please pick one.”

“No.”

“Harry.”

“Fine.” He plucked one at random and started drinking as he pulled off. “Happy?”

“Yes. Thank you.” And you meant it, too.

Silence settled between you again as you slurped away at your coffee. It was comfortable this time. You put the window down and stuck your arm out to feel the breeze through your fingers.

“Do you ever wonder how we got so…”

You looked over at him with a curious expression, but he never finished his sentence. “What?”

Harry shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Oh, come on, Harry.” You poked his arm. “You’ve never been one to mince your words in front of me before. Don’t start now.”

His lips twitched with a smile, but it was quickly replaced by something else. A kind of sad contemplation. “I don’t want to ruin a rare nice day.”

Now you were the one struggling to find words. Animosity was just the default practice for you and Harry when you were around each other. After so many years of battling over often ridiculous things, he was right. This was a rare nice day. You hadn’t argued once. Come to think of it, you hadn’t argued at all since the day you were sick. That little spat on the hill was the last one.

But curiosity ate away at you. What was he going to say that had the potential to ruin your good time? Knowing Harry, it could be any number of things.

“I promise I won’t lose my shit if you tell me.”

His face lit up with amusement, but he never laughed. “Shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Right there, in that single moment, you were reminded just why the world had an obsession with the man sitting beside you. Even in the blandest setting, Harry Styles looked like the man who would promise you everything you’ve ever wanted and be able to deliver it to you. The man who held enough charisma both on and off stage for a hundred other men. The man with pretty eyes and pretty pink lips. The man who looked damn good whether he was clean-shaven or harbouring two weeks of scruff like he was now. The man who would spoil you to no end, who would give you a life of comfort and stability, who would drop everything at a second’s notice to be yours. Fuck, he looked like the man who might even die for you.

You’d seen Harry in love and the man gave his whole fucking heart and soul to the person he was with. His inherent attractiveness was just a bonus.

“Tell me, please.” You tried again.

He considered it for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek. Eventually he sighed, “Do you ever wonder how things managed to get so bad? Between us?”

Ah.

A loaded question, indeed.

“Do you want the honest answer?”

He glanced your way, jaw suddenly tense. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t tend to wonder about it because I haven’t forgotten at all how we did.”

“Walk me through it.”

“Are you sure you want that?”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from the most honest woman I know.”

You were biding your time, mulling over your response. Perhaps this would ruin your nice day, but this was the most open conversation the two of you were ever going to have. Not talking about it would be both a missed opportunity and a disservice to yourself.

“Okay. You’re not going to like it, though.”

“I didn’t expect to.”

You took a deep breath. “The first time I met you didn’t go at all how I expected it to. In hindsight I guess, to you, I would’ve just been a footnote. Your friends have other friends you probably meet all the time and I was just one of the next hundred. Holly and my brother had only just started dating, but Holly and I got on so well we started doing things together as friends without him. She invited me to lunch with… you know, the usual suspects.”

He nodded once, slowly. The usual suspects he wasn’t speaking to anymore for various different reasons. You didn’t keep tabs on Harry’s life by choice, but Holly and the internet provided more about it than you cared for.

“Maybe you were just young. Or maybe there was something different that I just missed or didn’t understand, but you weren’t at all like I expected you to be. Everyone - my brother, Holly, my parents -, everyone said you were amazing. ‘The nicest boy you’ll ever meet’. And sure, you were nice. Charming, even. And you had everyone’s undivided attention, including Holly’s. And mine. But Holly’s more so.

“That girl loves you. And I watched her love you up close and personal and it was amazing and beautiful and I really wanted her to give just even a portion of that love to my brother. And she did, but it didn’t come without a fight.

“I didn’t care that you spent most of that lunch ignoring everyone else at the table. Or maybe I did. I just knew that you only cared about Holly’s undivided attention and she had no quarrels giving it to you. There was a time I thought you might be secretly in love with each other,” you laughed at the reminder because it seemed stupid now, “but when I brought it up with her she laughed so hard she cried and then pretended to vomit.”

“Damn,” Harry produced an offended laugh. “Didn’t know I was that repulsive.”

“Anyway, it didn’t stop her from loving you. Never has. Soon after, I spent a week with her and my brother in Spain on some all-inclusive thing. Before you ask, I was forced to go. Being a third-wheel is absolutely not my style.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t think it sounded like you.”

You shook your head. “Not at all. Anyway, I watched Holly send constant photos, messages, gifs, any and all digital media to you while we were on that holiday, cataloguing the entire thing. I don’t think you realise how many times I heard oh Harry’s gonna love this. But what got me is you never replying to her. Not once. Her phone screen was just a sea of blue messages against a backdrop of silence. At one point I considered she’d got the wrong number, but then you texted her the day we left with something really dull and generic and I really wanted to hit you.”

“I don’t remember this at all.” He admitted, face paled.

“That doesn’t surprise me. You’re a busy man. I reminded myself of that a lot to start off with, but the whole thing became a recurring pattern. Maybe you think I’m stupid and it’s a bit of an overreaction for it, but I’m quite observant when I want to be. You’re Holly’s best friend, even if she’s not yours. Every time she says it, it’s like she’s been given the greatest gift in the entire world. And she’s such a bright, incredible person. She’s my best friend. Not just because she’s married to my brother, but because she’s the best person I’ve ever met and nothing will ever change that.

“Over the years I’ve watched countless messages and phone calls from her to you go unanswered, seen her face turn down with sadness when you don’t call her back or text out a reply. She deserves more than that.

“I’ve noticed you do it to my brother, too. I know he works for you so maybe it’s not the same, but it’s safe to say that in their house, Harry Styles isn’t a name that lights up their phone screens very often. Ever.”

Harry fidgeted a little and cleared his throat. “All this time I thought I’d done something to you.”

“No. Worse. You continually managed to upset my best friend, even if you didn’t know it, and in turn you upset me.”

“Then I’m sorry.”

“It’s not me you need to apologise to, Harry. She’ll never admit that she’s hurt by your silence because she doesn’t want to lose you. This is why we’re so very different. I don’t hang around for people who don’t appreciate the good they have in their life. I’m a good person, and Holly is an even better one. She deserves more than your attention when she’s only sat in front of you.”

“You’re right. I’m an idiot.”

“Yes you are.”

His lips twitched again. “The next time I’m in the village with signal I’ll call her. Promise.”

“Don’t promise me. Promise yourself, and her. One day she might snap and decide she doesn’t want to wait for months at a time to hear from you. Because hearing about you through my brother doesn’t count.”

“I know. I get it, I really do…”

“Good. Now, my turn.” You let out a long breath and turned in your seat. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you-,”

“You called me both insufferable and intolerable in the space of five minutes when I got here.”

“Let me finish.” He said, exasperated. “I don’t hate you, I’m scared of you.”

“Calling someone intolerable because you’re scared of them doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well, let’s put it this way. While perhaps you were right, at first I thought you were just another friend of a friend who’d made an appearance for uncertain reasons, it became apparent very quickly that you weren’t going anywhere. It also became very apparent that you were not my biggest fan. That first lunch was one of a kind because you barely said a word. Every other time after that, which I now realise happened to be family-oriented, you hardly shut up.

“I’ve always noticed it. You command the attention of everyone in the room. You’re a storyteller. You could turn an anecdote about a trip to the petrol station into a fairytale. You give everyone in the room your undivided attention, and when I realised you never gave it to me, well… safe to say I was wounded. Holly talked you up to high heaven. Your brother loves you. My own mother loves you even though we don’t get on.

“There’s something about you. And the fact that the only attention you ever gave me was a dirty look or a snippy remark made me petty. So I started giving it back, and I think the more I did it, the more I lost sight of the kind of person you actually are, because I only focused on the side you showed to me.”

He turned into the driveway of the cabin, and you thought he was done. But when the engine shut off, he said one last thing.

“In one of your many little outbursts you said I’ve got a severe case of oosoom syndrome. I never bothered to look it up because I didn’t want to know what kind of idiot you thought I was, but it’s just clicked.”

“Out of sight, out of mind.”

He nodded and turned to you with a calm gaze. “I get it now.” He wasn’t just talking about the idiom.

“Good.”

The rain was back and heavier than ever. The ground surrounding the cabin was a swamp, the hill that led down to the village was indiscernible thanks to the downpour, and the day was dark and moody. Inside the cabin it was muggy and humid and you felt ridiculous sitting at the dining table in a vest and denim shorts, but you were.

Harry sitting opposite you looked more rugged than usual. His hair was pulled back with a clip, his stubble was shifting into a beard and his clothes were wrinkled.

“Hmm…” He gave an obnoxious tap on his chin.

You rolled your eyes and sunk into the seat. “Just put me out of my misery and show me your cards.”

He laughed, peering at you with a lightness in his eyes that was so unfamiliar it almost had you shell shocked. “Fine.” He placed his hand on the table showcasing his win.

It was day three of this charade. It hadn’t stopped raining and all you’d done was cycle between card games and Monopoly. He always won. You were so fed up of him winning that this was the last straw.

You stood and swiped his hand off the table so that they landed in a flurry on the wooden cabin floor.

“Hey…” he pouted.

“That was childish of me, I’m sorry.” You groaned, and crouched down to pick them up. “I’m so bored, Harry. I think I’m going mad. We don’t even have a TV. We’re in the middle of nowhere with a pack of cards missing the Ace of Spades and Queen of Hearts and an old beat up Monopoly box with half the properties missing.”

He blinked at me. “I know this. I’ve been with you the whole time.”

“Sorry.” You muttered. “When I’m frustrated I just state the obvious.”

“But I thought that was my job.”

You rolled your head back and sighed at the ceiling. “I need to do something. Anything. I don’t want to sit in here anymore. I need air.”

“It’s pissing it down.”

“I’m aware. You have a car… just humour me for a bit. An hour tops.”

“You want me to drive you around for an hour? In a smaller space than we’re already in?”

“Okay, fine,” you sat back down in your chair and attempted to plead with the normal side of him, the non-celebrity side, “what if… when me and my brother were little and we went away with Mum and Dad, if the weather was crap like this we’d get in the car and drive to the nearest supermarket. And we’d have lunch in the cafe and then do a bit of shopping and then come back. And we’d all get one thing to bide the time before the weather got better again. Why don’t we do that?”

A smile was forming on his lips. “You want to try shopping with me again?”

“That prick and his fancy camera won’t be going back there, trust me.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why, what did you do?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.” You patted his hand. “Please, Harry. Rescue me from insanity.”

“Fine, but only ‘cause you asked so nicely.”

“Yay!” You stood and clapped your hands together. “I’m gonna change.”

Half an hour later you were back at the supermarket in the town over and ready to find as much new entertainment as possible.

“Do you think we should buy them a TV?” Harry contemplated aloud as he stood in front of a large flatscreen.

You gave him a scrutinous look. “And put it where?”

“Good point.” He sighed. “We’re missing Love Island.”

You barked a laugh and carried it down the aisle with you. “That is not what I expected you to mourn over.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

You found your way to the games and books. “Can we get a jigsaw puzzle?”

“Why are you asking me? Get whatever you want, mate.”

You perused the options with as much interest as a car fanatic in a vintage car garage. “Farmyard or harbour? Or circus? Or mountains?”

“Whichever will keep you occupied for the longest.” He said absently, moving down the aisle to the board games.

The circus one had the most pieces and highest level of difficulty, so you plucked the box off the shelf and followed after him. “Have they got the Game of Life?”

He started laughing but never answered you.

“Oh,” you pouted, tapping the spin-off version that was much shorter and way less entertaining.

“Bop-It?”

“When I was little I completed that.”

He raised a brow at you. “Can you even complete Bop-It?”

“Yes,” you snatched the box off the shelf, “and I will prove it to you when we get back.”

“We’ll see about that.” He whispered, smirking. “We need an actual board game.”

You gazed over the options with the same level of interest as the jigsaws. “You choose. I’ve picked the last two.”

“Absolutely not, I’ll only pick wrong.”

“What’s your favourite?”

“Cluedo.”

“Then get Cluedo.” You pointed at it and walked away.

Two hours later and three books heavier you were back at the cabin and starting your jigsaw puzzle. You and Harry sat on your claimed sides of the table, box lid propped against the window and a selection of snacks between you.

“Where the fuck is the fourth corner?” You grumbled, digging through the box like a cat in a litter tray.

Harry glanced at the box lid, then at the jumbled selection of tiles, and plucked it out without hesitation. “There y’go.”

You blinked at him. “Is there anything you’re not good at?” You pinched it from him and placed it in the relevant corner. “Thank you.”

“A compliment and gratitude? It is a good day.”

You stuck your tongue out at him.

“I’m not very good at the splits.”

That made you laugh, right from the back of your throat. “Have you tried?”

“Many times.”

“For what purpose?”

“I had a thing for my yoga instructor once and she was convinced I could do it so I kept trying just to impress her.”

“My God, you are a sap.”

“Pathetic, isn’t it?”

“It’s nice to know you failed at something for such a pitiful reason.”

He gave you such a megawatt smile you had to look away. “I’m just like any other boy.”

“I can’t believe you had to try hard to impress anyone. It almost doesn’t seem natural.”

“You make me sound like a robot.”

“I don’t think you’re a robot. I just think sometimes things seem to come a little too easily to you. Skills. Work. Friends. Women. Probably men, too. Some of us have to try really hard to get those things.”

“You have friends. A good job. And I refuse to believe people aren’t interested in you… romantically.”

You lifted a brow at him. “Refuse?”

“Are they not?”

“Have you ever known me to be ‘romantically’ involved with anyone?”

“Yeah, that lad you took to your brother’s wedding.”

Colin.

“He’s gay.”

“Oh.” He scratched his nose. “I wondered why he kept eyeing up one of the groomsmen. Your cousin?”

“Also gay.”

“Have you never had a boyfriend?”

“Not since school, no.”

“Have you… are you… you know?”

You gave him another raised brow. “You’re not seriously asking me that.”

He rubbed his hands down his face and groaned. “I’m sorry. Ignore me.”

“Just because I haven’t had relationships, doesn’t mean I’m a virgin, Harry.”

The tips of his ears turned pink. “I think we’ve gone a bit off track here.”

“You’re tellin’ me.”

He slotted a piece into place next to one of the corners. You slotted another one in after that. The pattern repeated itself, in silence, for the next twenty minutes.

“When do you go to your AirBnB?”

You met his gaze with a calm expression. “Six days. Five nights.”

“Okay.” He said as he stood. “Are you hungry enough for dinner yet?”

“If you are, we can eat.”

He gave a stiff nod. “Okay.”

~~~

Part 2

Talk to me?

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles ou #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff imagine #harry styles fluff imagines #harry styles angst #harry styles angst imagines

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hotchnerxo · 1 year

Note

Aaron Hotchner x Reader!soldier

While being in Pakistan Hotch falls in love with one of the Seals. The feelings are mutrual but Aaron has to leave again and the two try to be in touch but it is difficult.

Reader leaves Pakistan 4 month after Hotch and didnt tell him.

A surprise visit at the BAU chances everthing and brings them together.

This was so much fun to write! And I would absolutely love to write a whole series out of this!!! Thank you so much for the request. Hope it is to your liking! (Also this was longer than I at first intended)

A year prior, you had agreed to run a task force in Pakistan. It was your first solo operation managing it all, and although nervous, you were more than capable of handling it. It is after all what you’ve been training for for a long time.

Few months into the operation, you and your team got another helping hand from the FBI, a team leader from a special unit, Aaron Hotchner.

At first, you were a bit worried, having an experienced leader join your team. Would they want to overtake your operation? Would the FBI try to get too involved through him? But instead, your nerves melted soon after meeting up with the man. His intelligence and true will to help were stronger than any of your previous doubts.

What you did not expect happening, was getting so close with the man. Him and you worked great as a team and grew close during his time with you. Professionalism has always been important to the both of you, but working so closely together for a long time, you got to know him on a more personal level.

Four months ago, he got a call that ended his time with you. He couldn’t tell you much at that moment, other than his team needing him back in Quantico. And you know his team is his family and he would do anything for them. But he promised to explain it all once the task force is over.

“I’ll hold you to it” you had told him as he stepped into his vehicle and rushed for his plane.

Now, 4 months later, you find yourself at the Bureau, delivering the remaining paperwork of your now-ended task force. You’ve barely made it back to the country, still in uniform and all, but on your way out, you notice a sign on the elevator: Behavioral Analysis Unit. And before you know it, you find yourself on the sixth floor, rather than the garage.

You make your way through the glass doors and hear a playful banter from the kitchenette on your right. You hear familiar names pop up in the short conversation, letting you know that it’s Hotchner’s team.

“Excuse me” you interrupt softly and the banter quiets. The four agents on their break turn to look at you and straighten up seeing your uniform. “So sorry to interrupt you on your break” you try to sound relaxed and calm, you’re not here for professional matters “I’m trying to find Aar-, I mean Agent Hotchner” you clear your throat, your confidence diving as you notice two of the agents share a look “Am I in the right place?”

“Yes, ma’am” a dark haired woman smiles politely and points you in the direction of his office. You thank them and head towards the office at the end of the bullpen.

His curtains are open and seeing a familiar man behind it almost makes you stop on your feet. But with determination, you remain calm and keep on walking.

Although his door is open, Hotchner hasn’t yet noticed you at the door. You take a couple of seconds to admire him in such deep concentration. You take a moment to admire him. His dark hair is in neat order, although a few strands have fallen to his forehead throughout the day. Instead of his military uniform, he’s in a form fitting suit. You had gotten so used to seeing him with a beard or at least a stubble, now seeing him clean shaven is strange. But you can’t deny your clear attraction to him.

“I need that report on my desk first thing in the morning, Hotchner” you put your best ‘Unit chief’ voice on as you step into his office. The man’s eyes dart up to you, but the look softens immediately as he recognizes who it’s coming from. You can’t help but smile, seeing him again after months of being away.

“Hey!” He greets you and walks up to you from behind his desk. You spread your arms for a hug and he seems more than happy to wrap his arms around you. Somehow, you’d forgotten how tall he is. And as he’s now so close to you and you feel his strong body against yours, you forget how to breathe momentarily.

Once you separate, seeing the fond smile on him makes your knees buckle and you have to force yourself to focus.

“What are you doing here?” he breaks the silence, still in slight disbelief to see you in his office.

“Finally back in town, case’s over” you explain. Even after he’d left Pakistan, he had checked in on the task force every now and then. But he’s been so packed with work recently that he hasn’t had the time. “I really wanted to see you, it’s been awhile. And I’m pretty sure I’m owed an explanation”.

“You are” he admits, his gaze dropping down momentarily. But only seconds later, he looks back at you, as if he can’t keep his eyes off of you.

There’s a moment of silence, but you feel a laughter bubble in you. The man in front of you seems completely oblivious to what you’re trying to tell him. The man is extremely smart, but you know he’s had to put up a lot of walls for himself.

“Are you busy tonight?” you ask more directly, hoping for him to catch up on your thought process. “I’m very jet lagged, I think a shower and a nap would do wonders really” you feel yourself rambling on beside your point “But would you have time for dinner tonight? To, you know, catch up”.

“I’d like that” he voice is almost down to a whisper “Would 1900 work?”

You smile at his wording. “Only if you let me drive”.

“Not a chance!” his laugh makes the butterflies in your stomach take flight “I’ve seen how you drive. I’d like to live, thanks”.

“What are you saying, Hotchner?” you try to act offended, although failing miserably.

“What I’m saying is that I’ll pick you up at 7”.

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotchnerxo fic #aaron hotchner fluff #kind of #oblivious hotch <3 #he's an idiot #i love him #beard hotch

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lunar-wandering · 2 years

Text

Concealer

finally. the long shadowpeach pride month fic. i honestly cant believe i managed to finish this on time.

anyways. welcome to the post s3 special fic where Wukong drags Macaque into helping him with his glamours. Oh, and also a few other things happen, but they’re not important. Probably.

TW: Panic Attacks, talk of scars and injuries

Word Count: 13.4k

Read on AO3

Macaque woke up that morning to the dawn shining through his curtains, the sounds of the city starting to wake up, the birds calling out the song of the day, and the horrifying realization that Sun Wukong was climbing in through his window.

“Oh good, you’re up.” Wukong said, casually, like he wasn’t literally breaking and entering into Macaque’s bedroom. “If you weren’t I was going to have to throw you into a nearby mountain. Saves me the energy I guess.”

Macaque continued to sit in his bed in complete and utter disbelief for another two seconds, slowly registering the situation.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house.” He deadpanned. Wukong didn’t seem to care about his less than stellar reaction to his grand appearance, instead choosing to investigate the room, Macaque watching in continuous disbelief and offense as Wukong opened one of his drawers and started rummaging through it. “Wh- hey- Wukong that’s my stuff-”

“The kid wants you to hang out with him and the others today, for some reason.” Wukong said, ignoring Macaque’s protests as he opened another drawer to dig through. “Something about going to a theater? I didn’t pay that much attention.”

“Same old Wukong, never paying attention to anything unless it involves himself.” Macaque sighed, before flopping backwards onto his bed, rolling over and pulling the covers over top of his head. “Tell MK I’m taking a rain check today, will ya? I’m not in the mood for him and his friends’ sickening optimism.”

“Oh come on now, I was told to fetch you no matter what, you know.”

Macaque felt a light tug on the edge of the blanket, and dug his claws into both it and the mattress below him.

It wasn’t enough to stop Wukong from yanking both the blanket and him off of the bed though.

Macaque let out a yelp as he slammed into the floor of his bedroom, Wukong whistling innocently, turning to investigate yet another drawer as Macaque untangled himself from the mess of blankets to glare up at him.

“You-”

“I’m sure it’s obvious you can’t take a rain check now.” Wukong interrupted, his hands pausing for a moment in the middle of rummaging before starting back up again. He wasn’t looking at Macaque. “You better get ready to go and hang out with them, or I will drag you there, even if you kick and yell.”

“...Yeah yeah, whatever.” Macaque huffed, slowly pulling himself to stand up, attempting to fix the crinkles in his pajamas, glad that he slept with his glamours over his scar on last night. He ran his fingers through his hair, reapplying the glamour over the white streaks that had started to break through from the glamour loosening as he slept, before lightly tracing his ears to turn the six into two. Just to be sure, he softly placed a hand over his scar, reapplying the glamour over it with slightly more strength.

Wukong had gone suspiciously silent.

Macaque blinked, glancing over. The Monkey King was no longer going through Macaque’s drawers, and was instead just standing there, slightly leaning up against it, staring at him. They held eye contact for a few seconds, and then Wukong shook his head as though ridding himself of a thought, and Macaque glanced down at the floor, subconsciously placing a glamour over top of the rest of his face as well to hide the purple flush. Wukong started heading back towards the window, easily walking around where Macaque stood.

“Well, I’d better head back to the mountain, MK’s going to come over for training later after he finishes hanging out with you and his friends, and I need to get a few more things ready. Plus, you know how the baby monkeys are like if I’m gone for too long-”

“Sun Wukong.”

“Hm?”

“Why are you trying to steal my makeup case?”

Wukong froze, one leg out the window. The sunrise shone behind him, illuminating him. The wind blew in through the open window, rustling both the curtains, as well as Wukong’s hair and fur, making him look almost otherworldly.

It didn’t change that he looked like he’d been caught in the act of stealing from the cookie jar though.

“I. Have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I can literally see it tucked into your side pocket.”

Wukong’s tail moved to cover the edges of the makeup case that weren’t hidden within the folds of his pocket. The two of them stood at a stalemate, maintaining eye contact, waiting to see who would be the first one to break.

“Peaches, your eyes are turning pink.”

Macaque smirked with victory as Wukong swore, breaking eye contact, but his expression slowly turned into one of horror as he watched Wukong reach up and forcibly pull down on something that to the normal eye was completely invisible.

“Holy shit- Don’t treat your magic like that you idiot-” Macaque stepped forwards and down into the shadows, popping up directly in front of Wukong and grabbing hold of his wrists. Wukong let out a noise of protest, about to break free- “Do you want to unleash all your magic and destroy everything within a 100 kilometer radius? Fuck your magic is all taut like a bowstring it’s a miracle it hasn’t snapped already-”

Wukong stopped struggling, blinking in confusion as Macaque led him over to sit on his bed, already in full magic analysis mode. Reaching up, Macaque grabbed hold of the magic around Wukong’s head, a lot more gently than Wukong himself had. Wukong shivered, the sensation weird, as Macaque’s unglamoured eye flashed purple, golden strings manifesting, most of them pulled tight and almost looking like they were starting to fray. Macaque tsked, seemingly not thinking too deeply about his actions as he ran his fingers along them, glowing purple magic swirling around his fingers as he fixed the fraying bits, before moving and slowly undoing the knots that were pulling them tight. Wukong didn’t protest, simply stunned at Macaque’s sudden amount of…gentleness and care.

“Your magic doesn’t work the way mine does.” Macaque said, mostly talking out loud to himself as he continued to work on the knots. Taking a moment to pause as Wukong’s glamours came down, before continuing his work, not commenting on it. “Mine is more loose, it waves and folds and easily bends around me to create perfect glamours. Yours, on the other hand, doesn’t bend as easily, it’s meant to be used for stiff bursts, offensive, forceful spells, and trying to make it bend to make glamours like mine isn’t good for it.”

“I know that.”

“Then why is your magic so out of whack right now then, oh Intelligent Stone Monkey?”

“Because I don’t have a choice.” Wukong hissed, “The kid can’t know I look like- like-”

“Like this?” Macaque asked, and twisted his own magic around himself to perfectly mirror the way Wukong looked at the moment. The small scar cutting through his eyebrow. The scar on his cheek. The burn marks around his deep red eyes. The freckles going over his cheeks and nose. The old and new singe marks in his fur.

Not to mention the blue streaks running through his hair.

Wukong blinked as he registered his own image before him, before his eyes narrowed as he growled, reaching out and smacking Macaque on the nose, knocking the disguise off of him. Macaque gave a little yelp, before sticking his tongue out at him. Wukong huffed.

“Stop doing that.” He said, crossing his arms as he looked away, his eye twitching as he felt Macaque get back to work on the magic threads. “...I know bending my magic isn’t good. I was going to start looking into other solutions…”

“Such as stealing my makeup kit?” Macaque asked, and Wukong’s tail moved back to once again cover the kit from Macaque’s view. “Please, I don’t think the stuff in there would’ve helped you hide all of this mess anyways.”

‘Mess’, as though Macaque wasn’t still maintaining that glamour to keep the purple blush on his face from being noticed. It was times like these that he was glad that Wukong’s golden vision couldn’t see through his glamours…

His glamours…

“If you want to hide this from the kid, your glamours aren’t gonna cut it.” He said, removing his hands from the threads of Wukong’s magic, finished with untangling them, letting them fade out of view again. “He has golden vision, remember? One look and he’ll see right through you.”

“Well- what would you suggest then? It’s not like I can just hide away from MK, he’ll just get suspicious and drag me out forcibly. I don’t really have many options here, if you haven’t noticed-”

“Let me do it.”

“Huh?”

“Your glamours. Let me do them.”

Wukong continued to stare at Macaque in disbelief, his brain seemingly shutting down as he tried to process the idea. Macaque rolled his eyes, moving forwards, and gently cupping Wukong’s face with his hand to start applying glamours to his face.

“Wait- hold on-” Wukong’s hand shot up to grab hold of Macaque’s wrist, stopping him in place. “How do I know you’re not gonna curse me-”

“Please. I just spent the past ten minutes touching your magic threads, y’know, the stuff connected to your soul? If I was going to place a curse on you I would’ve done so already.”

Wukong…seemed to accept that as a reasonable excuse, slowly letting go of Macaque’s wrist, but not without leveling Macaque with a suspicious glare. Macaque rolled his eyes.

(Even if he still really wanted to curse Wukong, he didn’t think he had the right magic level to do so now anyways. No, most of his own magic, outside of his own glamours, was going towards making sure he remained alive and well, currently. After losing the backup of the Lady Bone Demon’s magic, he wasn’t sure how much magic he could use before he would…

That didn’t matter. His magic would reform and rebuild to the point where he could use it without worrying about that anyways).

Letting out a breath, Macaque leaned forwards slightly, getting started on gently moving Wukong’s magic to create a glamour that even the best true vision could not see through, while being careful not to bend said magic in ways it wasn’t supposed to. He ran his thumb over Wukong’s cheek, the freckles and scar vanishing underneath of his touch. Tracing the freckles and burn marks on the rest of Wukong's face, he made them vanish similarly, before moving up to run his finger over Wukong’s eyebrow, removing that scar from view as well.

“Close your eyes.” He said, Wukong surprisingly still and obeying, as Macaque brushed his thumb over top of Wukong’s eyelids, sticking his tongue out slightly as he focused. “Open.”

When Wukong blinked his eyes open again, they were back to their false gold.

“Last one.” Macaque whispered, more to himself than anything, as he reached up and lightly pinched parts of Wukong’s hair, glamouring the blue streaks and singe marks away from view. Leaning back, he inspected his work, humming. “Anything else?”

For some reason, it took Wukong a moment to answer, and when he did so he did it non-verbally, simply holding up his tail so that Macaque could see it. There were similar streaks of blue and singe marks running through the fur. Macaque simply nodded, reaching out and running his hand along Wukong’s tail, glamouring it as well.

“Right.” Macaque said, “Okay. All done.”

Wukong was silent for a few more moments, before he shook his head, snapping himself out of whatever funk he’d been in, smirking up at Macaque.

“Do I not even get a mirror to make sure you didn’t horrifically ruin my beautiful face?”

“It can’t get more ruined than it already is.” Macaque bantered back, but still reached to the side and pulled a mirror out of one of the drawers Wukong had left open. “This good enough?”

Wukong made a non-commital noise as he took the mirror out of Macaque’s hands, inspecting the other’s handiwork. Macaque watched patiently as Wukong’s eyes flickered to a much brighter gold, checking to see how well the glamours held up in the face of true sight. He did a low whistle when he found he couldn’t see through it, and Macaque smirked, proud of himself.

(And no, his tail did not wag at receiving the smallest hint of praise from Wukong. It didn’t.)

“You really can’t see through this at all.” Wukong said, putting the mirror to the side, before staring at Macaque with an odd expression. The blush Macaque had almost forgotten about, hidden behind glamours as it was, started to return the longer the Monkey King stared at him. Getting slightly nervous, he started to shift from foot to foot.

“...What?” He eventually asked, “Why are you staring at me?”

“Ah- no reason.” Wukong said, breaking the eye contact, standing up, walking back over to the window. “Well- you have that whole hang out with the kid to get to, and I have to go get things ready for training, so-”

“Hold on one second-” Macaque said, once again making Wukong freeze with one leg out the window. “Just…that glamour isn’t the best. Your magic isn’t meant for it, I’ve done it as gently as I can, but the glamour itself could shatter very easily. I don’t really want to have to do this again, so try not to overdo it.”

“Please, when have I ever over done it.” Wukong laughed. Macaque leveled him with a Look he’d seen MK use when Wukong said something really stupid. Wukong winced, and, without another word, hopped down out of the window.

Macaque walked over, pulling the window shut, looking out, just barely able to see Wukong’s cloud getting further away in the distance.

It took another two hours before he realized Wukong had still taken his makeup kit.

“Time to wake up, buttercup!”

Was the yell that woke Macaque up in the early morning the next day, quickly followed by his blankets being torn off of him. Panicked, he jumped up, standing on his mattress in an attack position, ready to fight.

Wukong’s loud laughter snapped him out of that fast enough.

“Wh-” Macaque briefly glanced at Wukong, then at the closed (and locked) door and window. It didn’t look like either had been opened at all, so- “How did you-”

“Eh, don’t worry about it.” Wukong waved him off, stepping up onto the bed to stand in front of him, ignoring Macaque’s quiet complaint about him getting his mattress dirty with his shoes. “Anyways, I was wondering if you could maybe give my glamours just a little touch up.”

“What are you-” Macaque started, before blinking, finally seeing what he had missed in his earlier brief glance at Wukong. The blue streaks in the Monkey King’s hair had returned, and the freckles on his face were starting to reappear. “Seriously? Already?”

“It’s not my fault you didn’t clearly explain just how fragile this was.” Wukong huffed, ruffling his own hair. “The kid landing one hit was enough to make it crack. Thankfully the dust covered most of it up, so he didn’t see, but I can’t exactly fix it on my own, so.”

“I am not your personal makeup artist.” Macaque hissed, before groaning, rubbing his eye with one hand, all the tiredness that comes with waking up too early in the morning suddenly hitting him all at once. “Damn it- how fucking early is it anyways?”

“Eh, suns up.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Wukong.”

“Anyways,” Wukong said, ignoring how Macaque was glaring at him. “Could you hurry up and fix this, please? Sandy needs me to go and hold his boat out of the water so that he can repaint the bottom.”

That brought forth the image of Wukong single handedly holding up an entire boat into Macaque’s brain, and he made a small noise, moving his hand away from his eye to cover more of his face instead as he quickly put a glamour to hide away his blush.

“Macaque? Come on, you’re not that mad that I woke you up, are you?” Wukong asked, leaning closer into Macaque’s personal space.

Well. The sooner he could get Wukong out of his house, the better.

Thinking only about wanting to get Wukong out of his room so that he could maybe get two to six more hours of sleep before actually having to start the day, Macaque quickly reached out and ran his fingers through Wukong’s hair, starting to glamour the blue streaks away.

Neither of them were expecting for Wukong to lean into the touch.

They both froze, Macaque’s fingers still in Wukong’s hair, only the tips still blue, but neither of them were paying attention as they stared at each other, Wukong with shock, Macaque with flustered confusion.

“Um.” Wukong’s eyes faded from gold to pink. Macaque tsked, pulling his hand out of Wukong’s hair, glamouring the final bits of the blue away, distracted by the colour change.

“You’re making more work for me.” He said, tired and irritated, not even bothering to tell Wukong to close his eyes as he placed a hand overtop of Wukong’s face, not caring enough to do it as slowly as he did last time, simply putting the glamour over Wukong’s face on all at once. “There, done, now leave me alone.”

“Wh- hey, there’s no way you did it that fast-” Wukong started, but got cut off as Macaque roughly shoved him back. Taken off guard, he stumbled back, tripping over one of the pillows and falling backwards off the bed. Macaque reached his hand out a few seconds too late, cringing at the sound of Wukong’s back slamming against the ground. Wukong slowly sat back up, rubbing his head, and Macaque winced as he saw that the knock against the ground had cracked the glamour again, leaving Wukong’s freckles entirely visible.

Well… It wasn’t the worst thing Wukong could be revealing about himself.

Macaque decided not to tell him.

“I can’t believe you pushed me.” Wukong said, standing up, for some reason avoiding eye contact. “Geez, if you want me out of here so bad, you could’ve just asked.”

He bent down, scooping up the blankets, gathering them into a little ball, before tossing them directly at Macaque’s head.

Macaque let out a muffled shriek as he was knocked back down onto the mattress.

By the time he managed to pull the tangle of blankets off of his head, Wukong was gone.

The window and door were still closed and locked.

“Seriously, how did he get in here…” He muttered, before fixing his blankets, laying back down on his side and pulling them over his head, letting his glamours down, the purple blush on his face now visible but slowly fading as he tried to calm himself down enough to try and get some more sleep.

In just ten minutes, his phone dinging with a new text message completely dashed that idea, and he groaned, rolling over, to see a new message from MK.

…How had the kid even gotten his phone number?

The message contained one word, “sunspots!” and a picture-

Macaque dropped his phone, his face reigniting in a purple blush that almost rivaled the gold one of the Wukong in the picture, who was trying to hide his very obvious looking freckles from the view of the camera, and, overall, succeeded in looking very cute.

There proceeded to be another ding as he got another message, a jumble of words-

And then MK was calling him.

Macaque stared at the screen for several seconds before he realized that he should maybe actually answer.

Hesitantly, he pressed the answer button.

And immediately had to lean back, his ears pressing against his head as the loud noise of arguing on the other side came through.

“Monkey King give me back my phone-”

“Macaque! I can’t believe you just let me leave like-”

“Why were you with Macaque anyways? Monkey King come on-”

“No reason- MK this is a talk for grown ups-”

“I’m 21 years old- what- did you two kiss or something??”

Macaque buried his face in his hands as Wukong’s flustered shriek made its way through the phone, before the click of the call being hung up rang through. Macaque was vaguely aware of his own tail smacking repeatedly against the side of the bed.

His phone dinged again.

~did you two actually kiss?? Monkey King won’t answer me~

Macaque was silent for a few seconds too long.

~hoLY SHIT DID YOU TWO ACTUALLY???~

Macaque grabbed his phone and quickly typed out a response before the misinformation could spread any further.

~NO!! FUCK NO- I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHERE YOU GOT THAT IDEA FROM~

~Awwww. :( i thought you’d finally acted on your crush on him~

Macaque blocked MK’s number.

MK found Macaque in the downtown market later that day, a hood over his head, his scarf pulled halfway up his face, keeping him almost entirely out of view as he stuck to the shadowed corners of the daily crowd, a basket of fruits and other foods he’d purchased from the vendors being carried by one arm. Slowly, MK left Pigsy’s side, sneaking up behind Macaque as quietly as he could, raising one hand, preparing to startle the monkey.

Only to get startled himself as Macaque spun around, knocking his hand away, and pointing a dagger made of shadows at MK’s throat.

“Kid!” Pigsy yelled, having noticed MK’s disappearance, and subsequently seeing MK with a knife at his throat. Macaque blinked, his ear flicking, before recognition lit up on his face, and the dagger vanished as Macaque’s position relaxed slightly, his hand moving to hold onto his other arm as Pigsy ran over to the two of them.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that, bud.” Macaque said, turning to walk away, but got stopped, letting out a small choked noise as Pigsy grabbed hold of the back of his scarf.

“Not so fast.” He said, “What was that? You almost killed the kid!”

“He startled me!” Macaque protested, yelping when Pigsy pinched his arm. Waving his arm around in a way that clearly indicated he was searching for a good excuse, Macaque turned his scarf into shadows, stepping out of Pigsy’s reach, but turning around in order to be able to face him.

Pigsy glared at him.

“Being startled isn’t an excuse for pointing a knife at someone’s throat.” Pigsy said, gently grabbing onto MK’s arm and pulling him forwards to stand beside him, before resting a comforting hand on MK’s back. “Macaque, apologize to him.”

“Pigsy, it’s fine, I really did startle him-”

“I’m not apologizing for a little knife- I didn’t even cut-”

“Apologize.” Pigsy repeated, an undertone to his voice that made both Macaque and MK straighten their backs. MK relaxed slightly as Pigsy rubbed a comforting circle on his back, reassuring him that he wasn’t mad at him, but Macaque remained tense.

“...Fine.” He eventually said, crossing his arms, his basket lightly bumping into his side as he moved. “I’m….sorry.”

“Was that so hard?” Pigsy asked, and Macaque rolled his eyes, turning away again and starting to march off.

Pigsy and MK shared a look.

Within seconds, they had started walking too, matching their paces to Macaque. Macaque let out a low growl, but they ignored him, instead starting to talk to each other. Macaque kept his face in a scowl, but after a bit, his expression started to soften, as he started to tune out their conversation, focusing on getting his own shopping done, almost forgetting that the other two were there at all.

…Almost.

He was kinda forced to remember when MK bumped into his side, almost knocking him over.

“Woah- sorry!” MK said, though the slight smirk on his face made it seem like he wasn’t actually all that apologetic. “I wasn’t expecting you to slow down.”

Macaque glanced at him, and then looked away.

“What do you two want?” He finally asked, wanting to get rid of them so that he could continue his shopping in peace, thank you very much.

“Just following the Mama duck around.” MK joked, and upon the twin looks of confusion and befuddlement from both Macaque and Pigsy, laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, had the thought and couldn’t resist making the joke. Nah, we actually want to ask you about Monkey King.”

Macaque, unprepared for the mention of Sun Wukong and the sudden resurgence of the memories of that morning, did not glamour his face in time.

“Are you- are you blushing?” MK asked, laughter in his voice, Pigsy snickering as well as the purple colour on Macaque’s face darkened. “Wow, the phone call from this morning really messed you up, huh?”

“Shut up.” Macaque hissed, putting a hand over top of his face to glamour away the blush before he could incriminate himself any further. Taking a breath to try and compose himself slightly, he opened his mouth to speak-

“Did you just glamour away your blush?” Pigsy asked, and MK startled cackling as Macaque’s shoulders involuntarily hiked up to his ears. “Oh boy, you’re a lot worse off than MK thought.”

“Than MK thoug- did he tell all of you about his stupid little theory- never- never mind.” Macaque chewed the bottom of his lip, crossing his arms again so he wouldn’t have the urge to reach for the edge of his scarf, he decided to try and change the subject. “S-so, you wanted to ask me something about Monkey King?”

“Don’t think I’m forgetting about that so easily, sir.” MK said, “That’s going on the whiteboard.”

“The what-”

“Anyways, yes! We did want to ask you something about Monkey King!” MK continued, “Mainly about his secret freckles. Which we didn’t know existed until today. And he seemed to get very mad at you specifically when we pointed out that they were visible. So, uh. What gives?”

“Oh, that.” Macaque debated for a moment on whether or not he should answer. On the one hand, Wukong would probably be pissed if he did. On the other hand, it wasn’t like the Monkey King had made him swear to a vow of silence or anything… “Okay, I’ll tell you, but you have to promise you won’t tell him that I’m the one who told you, okay? I’m not intent on getting killed again any time soon.”

Pigsy raised a concerned eyebrow at the “killed again” comment, but MK brushed past it entirely.

“Of course! My lips are sealed!!! Now tell me.”

“Right. Okay. So. You know… my glamours, right?”

“Like the one you just used to hide your blush, yes.”

“Please forget about that completely.” Macaque hissed, before coughing awkwardly. “Um, anyways, so, Wukong uses some glamours too. He was uh, doing it wrong though, so I’ve been kinda…helping him. Not that I wanted to, he practically forced my hand into it, he broke into my room early this morning and everything. I just uh. Was so tired I forgot to do the freckles?”

“You were pissed off at him for waking you up so early so you didn’t glamour away his freckles, huh.” MK surmised, and Macaque awkwardly coughed again, avoiding eye contact. “Yeah. Thought so.”

“Well- I answered the question so- you happy now? Will you finally leave me be?” Macaque asked.

Pigsy and MK shared another glance.

“Well, actually, we were going this way anyways, gotta pick up some new supplies for the noodle shop and everything, y’know?” Pigsy said, and Macaque groaned.

Two hours later, when Macaque finally managed to get home, drop his groceries on the kitchen counter, and flopped onto his couch, letting out a bone tired sigh, his phone dinged. Groaning, he rolled over, digging in his pocket to pull his phone out.

A message from MK was what greeted him.

~I have other pictures of Monkey King’s sunspots if you want them, but they come at a price.~

Macaque squinted at the screen for a solid three minutes before responding.

~....i blocked u. how did u….~

~stole your phone then returned it when i bumped into you~

Macaque blinked. He didn’t know the kid knew how to do that.

His phone dinged with another message.

~anyways, are ya gonna take the deal or what?~

Macaque had to think about it for a moment. He could take the deal, despite not knowing what it was, and possibly suffer humiliation just to get some extra pictures of Wukong with freckles. Or, he could block MK’s number again, take a nap, and not receive any pictures of Wukong.

The amount of time it took for him to make his decision was embarrassingly short.

~done deal kid~

He didn’t have the time to possibly regret his decision before MK responded.

~great!!!! I’ll call ya with the price sometime this week, but for now, here~

…And maybe, hypothetically, if Macaque spent the ensuing hour and a half giggling and purring over the photos as his tail smacked lightly against the couch, he definitely would not be telling anyone.

Wukong had a problem.

He paced back and forth in the hallway outside his bedroom, debating pros and cons, pausing every few minutes to turn and look in the mirror that hung on the wall beside him.

It had been 3 days since he’d last gone to Macaque to get his glamours touched up, and subsequently had accidentally revealed his freckles to MK and the others.

(He still mentally cringed at how Mei had poked his face, double checking to see that they were real, before the playful teasing started. It was all friendly and nothing was really meant by it, and it was mostly compliments anyways, but Wukong hadn’t actually been actively complimented in… a while.

Was it a bad thing that he couldn’t remember the last time he got complimented before the past week?

…Probably.

But that wasn’t the issue here).

His glamours had slipped more since then, his eyes now seemingly permanently pink, even when not flustered, small bits of burn scars starting to appear around the corners of his eyes. Three streaks of blue had made their way back into his fur, and the scar mark from where Nezha’s spear had sliced him on the cheek had returned.

Wukong looked down at the makeup kit on the table, and let out a sigh.

Bending down and opening it up, he pulled out some concealer.

It wouldn’t be the best, but it would just have to do.

…The real problem here though, was what he should do about his hair and his eyes.

He knew that hair dye and coloured eye contacts existed, but he didn’t want to risk hair dye in case he fucked his hair up further, and with how easily his eyes got irritated, there was no way in hell that he was going to be putting coloured lenses in them.

But.. he couldn’t exactly avoid MK or the others. They expected him to actually hang out with them now, if he suddenly called a bunch of rain checks, they’d definitely get suspicious, especially now since his freckles had been revealed.

Which was exactly why he wasn’t going to Macaque. The shadow monkey had already betrayed him once, letting him walk out with his freckles fully visible, what if it happened again, with something even worse this time?

He wasn’t going to risk it.

An idea striking him, Wukong turned and scrambled to his closet. He only had about 15 minutes before MK would show up to fetch him to go and hang out with the others, so he might have been rushing. Just a little.

He’d just barely managed to find what he was looking for when there was a knock on the door.

“Monkey King! I’m here!”

“Ah- coming!” Wukong called, slamming the closet door shut, wincing as the wall beside it cracked a little, he’d have to fix that later, he turned and ran out to the living room, skidding to a stop just before he accidentally ran into MK. “So what’s the plan for the day- why are you staring at me.”

“Your freckles are gone.” MK noted, and Wukong’s easy going smile twisted into a more nervous one. “Did you go visit Macaque this morning?”

“Wh- I- No, of course not! Why would I?”

“Oh- nothing. What’s with the hat?”

Wukong’s fur bristled, as he reached up and pulled the brim of the hat lower to better cover his hair and shadow his eyes.

“It’s sunny out.” He said, avoiding eye contact. “Plus, it’s just in case we go somewhere with a lot of people. I don’t really want to get swarmed because I’m the Monkey King, y’know? Popularity has some drawbacks.”

MK hummed in a tone that indicated he didn’t fully believe him, and Wukong’s nervous smile arched higher, before he walked forwards, brushing past MK, giving him a quick pat on the shoulder.

“Anyways, the others are probably waiting for us, huh? What is the plan for the day?”

MK gave him another suspicious look, but moved to fall in time with Wukong’s step as they walked down the mountain. (Wukong could summon a cloud to take the both of them down to where Sandy’s boat was waiting for them, but he didn’t want to risk the possibility of accidentally blowing his hat off. He knew MK would make note of it, but as long as he could keep the kid distracted, it should be fine, right?).

“We’re going to the arcade.” MK said, putting his arms behind his head, seemingly choosing to just be silent and observe what Wukong did. Wukong didn’t know if that was better or worse than being called out. “There’s apparently a new game system there that Mei wants to test out.”

“Neat!” Wukong said- and then started rambling about the episode of the Monkey King animated series he had watched last night. He knew that MK knew he had watched the show several times, and that MK had as well, so really there was no new information being shared, but MK had a special interest in the show, and talking about it managed to dispel some of the suspicion in MK’s eyes and replace it with a spark of energy instead. The conversation managed to last all the way down the mountain, up until they were walking onto Sandy’s boat.

“‘Sup, Monkey King!” Mei yelled, jumping over the railing to greet the two of them, picking MK up in a hug and spinning him, before moving to do the same to Wukong. Ever since the dragon had accidentally found out about how touch-starved the Monkey King was (in a situation Wukong really didn’t want to think about but had involved Sandy surprising him with a hair ruffle and maybe a small amount of crying), she had made it a point to give him just as much affection as she gave MK.

Which of course, meant, in this situation, picking him up and spinning him around.

Wukong’s arms, pinned to his side by Mei’s own arms, didn’t even get the chance to move up to make sure the hat stayed in place.

Wukong tensed as the wind blew through his hair, out of the corner of his eye being able to see Sandy catch his hat with one hand. Mei stopped spinning, setting him down, and Wukong winced as she and MK looked over him with scrutiny.

“Are your eyes…pink?”

“Is your hair… blue?”

One of those questions was said with slightly more concern than the other. Wukong shielded his eyes from the two of them, reaching up with one hand to pull one of the streaks of blue down in front of his face so he could look at it with fake shock.

“Oh- wow, it really is blue!” He said, “Guess that colour changing spell really does work huh, the more you know!”

He brushed past the both of them and up onto the boat, gratefully taking his hat from Sandy, MK and Mei slowly following behind him, neither of them looking very impressed. Wukong was very aware that they could see through his bullshit lie, but he really didn’t want to address the subject.

…Maybe he should’ve given in and gone to Macaque that morning instead of stubbornly refusing to go see him.

Wukong walked over to lean against the railing of the ship as Sandy started them off moving towards the mainland, keeping his hand on top of his hat so that it wouldn’t blow away in the winds. MK and Mei joined him, one of them standing on both sides of him. Even though he was keeping his eyes on the water, he could very much feel their twin stares analyzing him.

“...Well? Aren’t you going to explain, Mr. King?” Mei asked, after a moment, “You know that we know that your colour changing spell excuse is absolute bullshit.”

Wukong didn’t answer, his tail swinging anxiously as he continued to stare down at the waves that lapped against the side of the ship.

MK’s hand settled onto Wukong’s shoulder.

“Monkey King.” He started, the incredibly serious tone to his voice making Wukong’s muscles visibly tense. “If you don’t tell us what’s up right now, I’m going to throw you off of this boat.”

The grip of MK’s hand strengthened, and Wukong was very aware of the fact that, even though MK tended to joke to lighten up serious moments, his successor was one hundred percent going to throw him off of the ship if he didn’t say something now.

“You seriously don’t need to worry about it kid-” Wukong cut himself off with a strangled noise as MK started to adjust his stance. “Wait- WAIT okay alright I’ll talk about it do not throw me off the boat I sink-”

MK’s stance relaxed slightly, but his hand remained on Wukong’s shoulder. On his other side, Mei snickered at his reaction, and Wukong tilted his head to glare at her, though it didn’t do much. The dragon girl wasn’t affected by Wukong’s attempts at intimidation at all.

“Well Mr. King? Go on.” She said, “Explain the pink eyes.”

“To be honest I’m more concerned about the blue hair.” MK said.

They both stared at Wukong expectedly.

Wukong pulled the brim of his hat down to shield his face from view.

“The pink eyes are natural… kinda. The blue streaks are…not.” He muttered. After a few seconds of silence, MK poked him in the side, prompting him to continue. Wukong pulled the hat down lower. “My eyes are… red. Being… possessed had…side effects…”

Both MK and Mei gave a shiver at the memory of Wukong being possessed, and Wukong cringed, slouching down a little. MK’s grip on his shoulder changed from jokingly threatening to comforting as he felt Wukong’s movement. Mei’s hand gently found it’s place on Wukong’s other shoulder, a soft warmth radiating off of it. Faintly, Wukong could hear Sandy start humming some song or other. He had no idea if the river demon was able to hear their current conversation, but the small song was somehow reassuring.

He let out a breath, relaxing slightly.

“...If your eyes are red, why are they pink now?” Mei asked, and Wukong tensed back up again.

“It’s because of the glamour right?” MK said, and Wukong lifted his head to look at him in shock.

“How did you know about-”

“Uh, lucky guess!” MK removed his hand from Wukong’s shoulder as he waved both arms around in a sort of nervous gesture that Wukong couldn’t help but feel was familiar. “But- yeah, you wear a glamour, right? It’s because it’s slipping a little that things are starting to come through.”

Well. MK was right, and Wukong let him know as such. But still… how did he know? Wukong had never brought up glamours around him before, and, even though he knew MK had read most of his legends and watched most adaptations of his story, his successor had never brought up glamours before either, not even to ask about learning how to do them.

Grip tightening against the railing, Wukong went back through the events of the past few days, trying to think of a moment where he might have slipped up-

“Did you go visit Macaque this morning?”

Wukong blinked, remembering MK’s comment when he’d first seen him.

Then slowly, he turned back to MK, who had started mimicking his position of leaning against the railing as he was conversing with Mei over top of Wukong’s head.

“MK.” He said, interrupting him mid-sentence about… some arcade game. Wukong hadn’t been paying attention. “Have you talked with Macaque recently?”

“What? No.” MK quickly denied, before leaning forwards, crossing his arms against his chest as he smirked. “Are you wearing makeup just to hide your freckles?”

Taken off guard by the sudden change in subject, Wukong leaned away, bumping into Mei, who took the opportunity to reach up and steal his hat away again. Startled, Wukong tried to lean backwards even further in an attempt to grab his hat again, and ended up losing his balance, flailing, Mei barely managing to step out of the way in time as he slammed down onto the deck, the breath getting knocked out of him from the shock. Mei knelt down beside him, observing his face, before licking her thumb and rubbing it against his cheek, Wukong still too shocked to even think of stopping her. She let out a hum, looking at where the makeup had smudged.

“Looks like you’re right MK, he is covering up his freckles.” She noted, and Wukong snapped back to reality as they both snickered. Growling, he pulled himself back up to stand, stubbornly refusing to look at either of them.

“Oh c’mon Monkey King, it’s just freckles.” MK said, placing an arm around Wukong’s shoulders. “It’s not like you’re hiding anything else, right?”

Wukong remained silent.

“...Right? Monkey King?”

Wukong continued to avoid both MK and Mei’s gazes, seeing the city start to appear on the horizon, estimating that they’d be about another 10 minutes before they’d pull into the docks. The wind felt nice blowing in his hair, and he debated how he would convince Mei to give him his hat back once they arrived on dry land, continuing to ignore the two friends as they continued to badger him about the makeup he was wearing.

…MK’s arm over his shoulders shifted.

And that was the only warning Wukong got before MK was tossing him into the water.

He was fished out by Mei before he could sink too far, but that didn’t stop the damage from being done.

Macaque’s makeup was not waterproof.

Shaking the water out of his fur, glaring at the two of them as he wrung water out of his clothes (Sandy assured him with a yell from his position of steering the boat that he had an extra set of clothes that would probably fit him in a box somewhere), it took the fact that neither MK nor Mei were laughing for Wukong to remember that little fact.

He moved his hand to cover the scar on his cheek.

He forgot about the burn marks around his eyes though.

“Did…. did I do that?” Mei asked, and it took Wukong almost a moment too long to realize what she was talking about as she shrank away from him and MK, taking a small step backwards. MK reached out to grab her hand before she could take another step back, running his thumb over her fingers reassuringly.

“Wh- no! This? No!” Wukong paused for a moment, trying to figure out how best to explain it. “These are from- they’re older, they’re-”

“From the furnace, right?” MK said, sounding a little bit resigned, even as Mei relaxed a bit more beside him. “The one you were trapped in?”

“Yeah. That.” Wukong said, fidgeting his hands, his tail swinging as a nervous smile appeared on his face. “Look, can we just…drop this conversation for now? Yeah, yes, let’s not talk about this, I’m going to go get some new clothes-”

Wukong walked off to go inside the ship, Mei and MK moving to the side to let him walk by.

“Don’t think we’re going to forget about this!” MK called, “If you’re hiding more stuff under those glamours, you should just tell us!”

Wukong winced.

The way Mei had backed away in fear at his appearance and at herself just moments before replayed in his mind as he remembered the more recent singe marks throughout his fur.

No. He wouldn’t be telling them about it anytime soon if he could help it.

For their sake. Not his.

It was barely another 3 days before Wukong encountered his next dilemma. More blue streaks had started showing through, which MK had thankfully not commented on when he came over for training. The cut through his eyebrow was starting to come through, although as of right now it simply looked like the hair there was thinning.

Wukong wasn’t deeply concerned with these. Not really. MK and the others already knew about them, for the most part. He definitely didn’t spend a lot of the previous night laying in his hammock, completely awake, worrying about it.

Definitely not.

…His red eyes had finally broken through the glamours, leaving them no longer pink. He wasn’t sure if the others had noticed that. Like with the other blue streaks appearing in his hair, there had been no comment about it.

He would admit he was a little worried about his eyes. People had called them scary before. Including Tripitaka. He’d started glamouring them to a softer gold for a reason, after all.

That wasn’t Wukong’s dilemma though.

Or, well, it was still part of it. But it wasn’t the biggest problem.

No, the biggest problem lay in the fact that when he had woken up that morning, he had discovered that the glamours over the singe marks in his fur were starting to break.

Wukong absolutely could not let the others see those marks.

He couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

Standing in front of the mirror, Wukong let out a breath.

Carefully, he reached for his hair, trying to replicate the way Macaque had ran his fingers through it, bending the strings of magic to glamour away the burn marks. Vividly, the memory of leaning into Macaque’s touch came back into his mind, and he huffed, feeling flustered, choosing to ruffle his hair around instead of actually glamouring it, leaving his hair looking somewhat a mess.

Closing his eyes, Wukong tried to reapply his glamours the way he used to.

Something pulled, and Wukong let out a hiss, feeling like he’d just pulled a muscle. He dropped the glamours quickly, letting out a sigh of defeat.

There were no doubts about it then. He’d have to go visit Macaque soon, preferably before the next time MK came around for training.

Speaking of MK, Wukong’s phone picked that time to ding with a text message. Wukong reached over to pick it up, swiping it open to his messages, reading what MK had sent him.

And then he stiffened, still like a stone, his phone falling out of his hands, thankfully landing in the full laundry hamper instead of on the hard floor.

Screw seeing Macaque “soon”. He needed to see Macaque now.

Grabbing some looser clothes, pulling them on quickly, not caring that he still looked like a mess, Wukong grabbed his phone with his tail, leaping out his bathroom window, summoning his cloud and zooming to Macaque’s dojo, the wind rustling his hair, making his eyes water as it stung slightly, but he didn’t give himself a break to stop and rub them.

He barely avoided crashing through Macaque’s roof, only just remembering to stop in time and land gently so as to not create a hole. Walking over to the side of the roof, he carefully clambered until he was dangling upside down outside of Macaque’s window.

It was after eleven, so Macaque was sure to be up.

Wukong tried to push the window open.

…It made a clicking noise, and didn’t budge.

Locked.

Sun Wukong did not currently have time for locks.

He swung back, letting go of the rail he’d been dangling off of, spinning in mid air-

And slamming back, kicking Macaque’s window open.

There was a loud yell from inside the room, and Wukong winced, aware of the fact he’d probably just scared Macaque half to death, but this was important.

“Wukong- what the fuck! Why are you-” Macaque started, but Wukong cut him off, quickly walking over the shards of broken glass to grab hold of Macaque’s arms and stare directly into his eyes. “Hey- not so close-”

“Macaque. I need… your help.” Wukong forced out, before registering how close he’d put Macaque’s face to his, and immediately stepped back again, distracting himself and hiding the golden blush that had appeared on his face by starting to pull up the loose shirt he had quickly adorned before flying over, pulling it over his head.

Macaque let out a strangled sort of noise, but Wukong ignored it, instead fighting with the fabric as it got stuck for a moment on the back of his head, before he finally managed to pull it off. Letting the shirt fall to the floor below him, Wukong shook his hair out of his face, before finally looking back at Macaque, who was covering his own face with one hand.

“...Why are you doing that?” Wukong asked, and Macaque’s fur bristled as his hand fell down to rest by his side.

“No reason. Why did you take your stupid shirt off?” Macaque said, and Wukong refocused on the issue at hand.

“MK invited me to a pool party!” Wukong said, distress in his voice as he grabbed his phone out of his tail’s grip and shoved it into Macaque’s face, showing the invite in question. Macaque pushed the phone out of his face, leaning back.

“Congrats. That doesn’t explain shit.”

“Well look at me!”

Macaque, who up till this point had been solely making eye contact with Wukong, stumbled a bit as he took a step back, looking Wukong up and down before looking away. Clearly, he wasn’t getting the point.

The point of course, being that Wukong’s body was covered in scars. Scars he absolutely did not want the kid and the others to see.

Scars that Macaque was now currently very much avoiding looking at.

Wukong walked back over to him, grabbing hold of his wrist.

“Macaque, I need you to glamour me.”

Macaque startled again at that, finally meeting Wukong’s eyes again. He opened his mouth, and Wukong immediately knew that a “no” was coming.

He couldn’t afford “no”.

“Please, Macaque.” He said, making Macaque pause in the middle of forming words. “I can’t- they can’t know. They can’t.”

Macaque stared at him for an uncomfortably long minute, eventually breaking eye contact as he looked away with a sigh.

“Fine.” He said, “But you will be paying to fix my window.”

Wukong nodded, and then turned, walking over to Macaque’s bed, climbing up to kneel on it, wanting a comfortable place to rest, Macaque following him hesitantly.

“By the way.” Wukong said, making Macaque jump a little as he looked at him. “Did you tell MK about this whole glamouring thing?”

“What?! Of course not.” Macaque rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. “I wouldn’t betray your trust like that.”

“Yes you would. Absolutely you would.” Wukong sighed, “How much did you tell him?”

“...Not much. Just that I was doing your glamours for you.” Macaque mumbled, then reached his hands out to hover over Wukong’s chest, before he pulled them back, rubbing at his wrists.

“WhEre-” His voice squeaked, and he coughed before trying to speak again. “Where do you want me to start?”

“...Scars first.” Wukong whispered, “Please.”

Nobody had ever looked at Wukong’s scars before, much less touched them. And considering how Macaque had glamoured away the marks on his face…

Macaque nodded, pausing for a moment to grip the edge of his scarf, bringing it up to his mouth to chew on it, hesitantly looking at Wukong out of the corner of his eyes as he did so, but Wukong made no comment about it, instead staring up at the ceiling, leaving Macaque to do his job however he wanted.

Macaque stared at the scars and marks that littered Wukong’s body, chewing thoughtfully as he decided which one to glamour first.

Carefully, he placed his hand over top of one that looked more recent, over top of Wukong’s stomach and side. It looked like it hadn’t healed properly the first time, or like it had been reopened by another fight. Or multiple other fights. In fact, it almost looked like it was still healing.

Macaque had a vague memory of kicking Wukong there when he attacked the airship.

Well… there wasn't much he could do about that now. His time of working under the Lady Bone Demon’s ivory chains was long over.

He moved his hands gently over top of the scars covering the rest of Wukong’s front, desperately focusing only on his task instead of the actual visuals in front of him, glad that Wukong had been too distracted with the fabric of his shirt getting stuck than to notice the blush that had ignited on Macaque’s face, giving him enough time to glamour it away. Macaque kept chewing his scarf as his hands flickered over a scar that looked like it had come from a sword, his ears twitching as Wukong let out shaky breaths a few times, a wobbly smile on his face (Macaque remembered the tickle fights they had when they were younger. But they weren’t close like that anymore), before moving around to do his back as well.

Macaque paused.

There were scars on Wukong’s back too, of course. Marks from where Erlang Shen stabbed him with a spear, marks left over from where the rocks had dug into Wukong’s back during his 500 years under the crushing weight of a mountain. Macaque expected those scars.

What he hadn’t expected where the bluish-white swirls, patterns that almost looked like frost, that covered Wukong’s back, in a way that almost mirrored the markings that covered the front of Macaque’s chest, a reminder of how the Lady Bone Demon had thrown more power into him, overloading him by force, blinding his mind to everything but one thing; salvation.

Macaque looked up to stare at the back of Wukong’s head.

Did…Wukong know these markings were here?

Macaque honestly had no idea.

His hands shook for a moment, almost scared to touch the markings, they looked almost… fragile. Like they would shatter if Macaque touched them. Or worse. Like they would make ice spread across his hand again, traveling up his arm and over his chest-

“Macaque?” Wukong’s voice held a note of concern in it, and Macaque realized he’d frozen for a moment too long. “Are you okay?”

“..Fine.” Macaque muttered, voice partially muffled from the scarf still held within his mouth. Before Wukong could say anything else, Macaque’s hand made contact with the Monkey King’s back, feeling his muscles stiffen underneath of his touch.

If Macaque was a bit more gentle with glamouring those marks, well, no-one would have to know. This was their little secret after all.

The scars glamoured away, Macaque went to work glamouring the blue streaks and burn marks threaded throughout the rest of Wukong’s fur.

“You uh. You don’t need to glamour away the freckles and scars on my face.” Wukong said, when Macaque started to move his hands up there. “The kids have already seen. You can um. Leave some of the blue streaks too. I’d…still like my eyes and burn marks glamoured though.”

Macaque rolled his eyes.

“I’m not your hairstylist or something like that y’know.” He said, letting his scarf fall out of his mouth so that he could talk clearly. “I told you that before, remember?”

“Yeah yeah.” Wukong huffed, “Just making sure you don’t glamour everything away and make the other’s more suspicious than they already are.”

Macaque clicked his tongue, before moving his hand to run through Wukong’s hair to glamour away the singe marks.

Wukong leaned into the touch, which at the least, this time they both partially expected and were ready for.

This time though, they were both surprised at the soft sound of Wukong purring.

A soft purr started up in Macaque’s own throat as well at the sound, but he got rid of it by coughing, Wukong doing a similar action, almost sounding like he was choking as he coughed to cover up the sound of the purr.

They both avoided eye contact for a few seconds afterwards before Macaque went back to work.

Macaque was close to being done, the two of them starting to space out a little in their own thoughts, when the phone rang, making both of them jump, their fur standing on end. Macaque quickly reached over and picked it up, answering as fast as he could to make the ringing stop.

“Hello?”

“Macaque? Why are you answering Monkey King’s phone?”

They both realized their mistake immediately.

Wukong quickly snatched his phone out of Macaque’s hand, laughing nervously into it.

“Macaque? Sorry bud, I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Monkey King? Are you with Macaque right now?”

“WhAt? Noooo, of course not, I’m on Flower Fruit Mountain, as usual, why would you even think of that?”

“Because I’m at Flower Fruit Mountain, and you’re not.”

“You’re a shit liar, Wukong.” Macaque muttered as Wukong stuttered, trying to find another reasonable excuse.

“ShhhhHHhhHhh!” Wukong hissed, but the phone still managed to pick up Macaque’s voice.

“You ARE with Macaque!”

“I’m not!” Wukong insisted, “You’re just- hearing things.”

“Where are you right now?”

“I’m- on my way back to the mountain?”

“I don’t hear any wind from your somersault cloud.”

“That’s- um-”

“You’re at Macaque’s dojo aren’t you. I’m coming there.”

“I’m not- ah shit he hung up.” Wukong stared at his phone in despair, before rounding on Macaque. “This is your fault!”

“Wh- How is it my fault?!”

“You’re the one who answered the phone!”

“Yeah, to shut it up, your shrill as hell ringtone was hurting my ears!” Macaque said, rubbing his ears with a wince to drive the point home. Wukong’s glare didn’t lessen, but his next sentence was said in a significantly quieter tone of voice.

“Why didn’t you just press ignore?!”

“I don’t know- instinct??? I was startled, Wukong. Why didn’t you answer the phone?”

“I was… busy. Focusing.”

“Focusing on what, I was the one doing all the work-”

Wukong’s face flushed slightly gold, and Macaque raised an eyebrow, about to comment on it-

“Why is the window broken?” MK’s voice rang out, making both monkeys freeze, as they slowly turned to see MK crouching on the windowsill. MK looked up from the shattered glass that lay scattered all over the floor, and, upon seeing the shirtless, blushing Wukong, as well as the slightly frazzled looking Macaque next to him, both of them sitting on Macaque’s bed, raised an eyebrow. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No!” Both monkeys shouted, at the same time, Macaque going as far as to shove Wukong away from him, Wukong flailing as he fell off the bed. Again. For the second time that month. Wukong scrambled upon impact, grabbing his shirt and hurriedly pulling it over his head. The shock from the impact and the entire situation had knocked his eyes back to pink.

“Are ya sure?” MK asked, pressing his cheek against the staff as he watched the two monkeys flail. “Because I just came to get ya for the pool party, if ya want I can wait another minute or two.”

“It’s fine!” Wukong’s voice squeaked, but he ignored it. “It’s- nothing was happening! I’m ready, let’s go.”

“Ah- hold on.” Macaque’s hand reached out, gently covering Wukong’s eyes for a moment, making the Monkey King pause mid-step. Slowly, he pulled his hand back, and Wukong blinked, his eyes back to the false gold. “There you go. Have fun at your little party.”

Wukong glanced worriedly at MK to see if he had noticed the glamour being put on, but his successor was busy typing…something onto his phone. Wukong let out a small relieved sigh, and started walking over to the window, MK looking up as he heard the sound of the glass cracking under Wukong’s feet.

“Y’know, you can come too if you wanna, Macaque.” MK said, shifting to the side so Wukong could climb up onto the windowsill with him. “Party’s open to anyone who wants to come.”

“Sorry, the sun’s a bit too bright for me.” Macaque said, a teasing tone in his voice that made Wukong’s fur bristle.

“Yeah, sure, and the moon’s light keeps me up at night.” Wukong snarked back, ignoring Macaque’s tsk as he jumped out the window and onto his cloud, MK quickly joining him, flying off in the direction of the beach.

“...Monkey King?” MK said, grabbing Wukong’s attention.

“Hm?”

“Your eyes are already pink again.”

“Fuck-”

It had been a long time since Macaque had gone to Flower Fruit Mountain.

He’d imagined scenarios that would bring him back there multiple times, never acting on any of them, but thinking of them occasionally and how he’d react in vivid detail. Some of said scenarios involved fighting Wukong.

Some of them involved just the opposite.

But still, none of the scenarios he’s imagined had involved MK pulling in his favor from when he’d sent Macaque those pictures of Wukong’s freckles to get Macaque to come to the mountain and help clean out Wukong’s treasure vault. Apparently, the group had initially all been on Flower Fruit Mountain to play some kind of game, but had switched gears after accidentally once again stumbling upon the mess that was Wukong’s treasure room, and after a good debate with Wukong about the state of it, had decided to clean it up a little.

Macaque double checked the text message to make sure it was really real. He even went as far as to turn his phone off and on a few times.

And then he dialed MK’s number.

“Hey Macaque- Monkey King, do NOT make that pile of stuff fall down just because you think it’s funny- TANG. DON’T THINK I DON’T SEE YOU ABOUT TO STEAL THOSE FIGURINES YOUNG MAN.”

“MK I’M OLDER THAN YOU-”

“Anyways Macaque are you on your way over yet?”

It sounded like absolute chaos. Macaque did not want to go.

But… He had promised to MK’s deal. And he may not always be the best demon, but he wasn’t going to outright break this promise.

Still, Macaque didn’t outright answer, instead letting out a tired sigh before hanging up as a loud clatter and yelling started coming through the phone. Running his hands through his hair, he double checked to make sure all his glamours were up, taking a few extra seconds to try and mentally prepare himself for the absolute hell he was about to walk into.

And then he stepped forwards and down into the shadows, reappearing outside of Wukong’s house on Flower Fruit Mountain. Immediately, his ears were overwhelmed with noise, the clanging of objects falling to the floor, as well as various shouts of anger and fear. They’d probably knocked over one of Wukong’s piles of stuff.

But that wasn’t what Macaque first focused on.

Instead, what caught his attention was the pain that came with using his magic, and he collapsed to one knee, panting, having not expected the overexertion from something as small as shadow travelling. He closed his eyes as he focused on steadying his breathing, glad that he had decided to appear in front of Wukong’s house instead of the actual treasure room, so that the others weren’t seeing this pathetic display.

Finally starting to calm his breathing, feeling the magic in his chest start to settle, Macaque slowly opened his eyes.

And was faced with the fact that his hand was fading.

Panic gripping him once more, Macaque instinctively shook his hand desperately, as though shaking it would make it come back into view.

It took a few more seconds for him to start thinking slightly logically. Taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, Macaque released the glamour around his chest. He didn’t really need it, considering the clothes he wore covered it completely, so really it was just a waste of magic. He could feel the stress on the magic in his chest lessen slightly, and slowly, scaringly slowly, his hand faded back into view.

Macaque took a few minutes to breath, calming down, and making sure no other parts of him were starting to fade from view.

He also double checked to make sure that no part of his chest and the scars upon it was visible. He may have clothes over top of it, but he couldn’t help but be a little paranoid.

Another crash from the treasure room reminded him of why he was on the mountain in the first place.

Slowly standing up- stumbling a little, slightly woozy before managing to steady himself, he straightened his back, adopting a laid back and relaxed posture, like he hadn’t almost had a panic attack. He still felt slightly on edge, and another crash from the treasure room made his ears ring, but it was fine. This was fine. He could handle this. It’d be fine.

There were no other ways that this could go wrong. Not in the slightest.

Well aware that if he continued that line of thought for any longer he’d likely end up jinxing himself, if he hadn’t done so already, Macaque walked over and quietly snuck in through the treasure room door and into a space of complete and utter chaos.

Tang was surprisingly the first to notice his quiet appearance.

Immediately, he stopped yelling, slipping out around the pile of stuff he had been partially standing behind, moving over to slide up beside the shadow monkey.

“Nice of you to join us.” He said, and Macaque raised an eyebrow at the limited edition figure held in Tang’s arms. Tang, following his gaze, shifted to hold the figure behind his back and out of view. “As you can see, things are a little…”

“Chaotic?” Macaque said, putting a small smirk on his face. Tang took a step back from him, looking at him in concern, and Macaque let the smile slip a little.

“Are you okay?” Tang asked, and Macaque tsked, knowing something in his expression must have given something away.

“Fine.” He said, turning away from Tang’s concerned gaze, and starting to walk in the direction of some random pile, trying to tune out the yelling from the rest of the group behind him. Tang seemingly made the wise decision to leave him be, as he didn’t follow.

Macaque rolled his eyes as he looked up at the large pile of magical items laying in front of him. Reaching out, he grabbed the first loose object he saw, giving it a once over, before throwing it into the circle drawn on the ground with the words “non-magical items” written on it. Apparently the others had devised some kind of sorting system before he had arrived.

He did look at some of the objects in the magical items pile in confusion, mainly the very normal looking blender, but decided he did not want to know.

Digging in deep into the pile of magic items, rummaging around, he didn’t notice the staff beside him slowly starting to slide towards him.

At least, not until it knocked him on the head.

Macaque hissed, pushing the staff away, moving his hand to his head to rub the sore spot where it had hit, before freezing.

Slowly, carefully, he pulled his hand back, studying it.

The fur there was white. A little singed, charred at the edges, but still white. Swirls of blue moved down it.

He was sure that if he took off his shirt, similar swirls of blue would be on his chest as well. Hurriedly turning, he reached into the pile for something- anything that would reflect his appearance.

Pulling out a normal, if slightly stylished, mirror, Macaque jaw dropped.

All of his glamours were down.

All of them.

Trying not to panic again, Macaque reached for his magic, trying to move the strings to reapply his glamours.

Something in his chest twinged, and, instead of glamours, the shadows around him started condensing, swirling around him.

No.

No- no! That wasn’t he wanted- His magic was already low as it is, he couldn’t afford to over-extend it anymore after what happened earlier-

Well aware that he was hyperventilating, Macaque turned back to look at the staff that hit him.

It offered no clues, sitting there innocently.

Macaque grabbed it and threw it as far away from himself as possible.

His glamours still did not return.

The shadows swirling around him were getting stronger.

One of them swung out, knocking over a pile of stuff close to him, sending the objects clattering over the floor, the sound ringing and echoing impossibly loud in the room.

Macaque fell to his knees, covering his ears in pain. His chest twinged again, and more shadows started materializing.

He had to stop. It’d be better to simply have his glamours down then to over-exhaust himself trying to put them back up. He tried to stop.

His magic twinged.

…He couldn’t stop.

H e c o u l d n ‘ t s t o p.

Wukong hadn’t even known Macaque was there before the blast of shadow magic hit.

It immediately shut up any and all arguments, MK grabbing onto Pigsy and Tang to stop them from getting knocked back by the blast.

“What was that?!” Mei asked, but Wukong didn’t bother to answer, hopping up and over a pile of objects, almost slipping as some of them moved underneath of his feet. He had just managed to stabilize himself when another blast of shadow magic hit, causing Wukong to have to hold his hands up to shield his face and eyes, stumbling back, before slipping, rolling down the pile. He groaned as he rolled onto the ground, pulling himself back up, raising a hand to stop the next burst of shadow magic from hitting him directly.

Distracted as he was, he didn’t even notice that the blast and the fall had knocked all of his glamours completely off.

Standing up, keeping one hand up to shield himself from the uncontrolled magic, his red eyes flickered a bright gold as he tried to assess the situation.

He could see Macaque in the eye of the storm, and a flash of anger, of betrayal, rang through him for a moment, before it quieted.

Something was wrong.

Macaque was kneeling on the ground, his hands covering his ears, curling slightly in pain. His magic bursting uncontrollably, beating like a frantic heartbeat.

…He was crying.

“Macaque?” Wukong called, taking a cautious step forward, the force of Macaque’s magic making it feel like walking through gale force winds. “Mango? Plum? Liu Er?”

Macaque didn’t react to any of those names.

Wukong kept walking forwards, his steps almost seeming to echo as he pushed himself through the shadow magic, having to shield his eyes at every burst. But he didn’t stop.

Macaque needed him now, and Wukong wasn’t going to abandon him again.

Gritting his teeth, the magic lashing against him starting to sting, forged forwards, reaching out his arm, practically walking blind as the magic made his eyes water and his vision blur.

His hand grasped onto Macaque’s scarf, and he felt the shadow monkey gasp as Wukong immediately surged the rest of the way forwards, collapsing to his knees and wrapping his arms around him. Macaque continued to let out heaving breaths, practically hyperventilating, but the shadows stopped lashing around, slowly withdrawing into nothing, an eerie sense of calm replacing it.

Macaque’s hands shook, before they started clinging to Wukong’s shirt.

Or, well, they tried to.

Instead, they simply passed through the fabric.

Wukong shivered at the cold sensation, and Macaque’s breath picked up, still panicking, as Wukong glanced down to see that Macaque’s hands and arms were going wispy, fading in and out. For a moment he just stared at it in disbelief, before looking back up and seeing Macaque’s panicked face, registering that this was real, and that this was not good.

Both of the monkeys panicking, neither of them were capable of saying any words, Wukong flailing around for a solution while Macaque started curling up again. Wukong’s eyes flickered gold again, as he scoured the piles of stuff in his immediate area, letting out a small noise of distress when he couldn’t find anything. He looked back at Macaque with a sense of fear filling him.

He was going to lose him.

He was going to lose his friend again. And this time, there wasn’t anything or anyone that could interfere and bring him back.

Wukong looked over Macaque again, completely ignorant to how the other’s glamours were down due to the fact that he was now well aware that this could be the last time he saw him. Ever. For the rest of his immortal life. Which he honestly wasn’t sure would ever possibly end.

This could be the last time he sees Macaque forever.

No.

No, he couldn’t allow that.

He’d only just started getting his Macaque back, he couldn’t afford to lose him so soon.

Taking a breath as the wispiness spread from Macaque’s hands to his elbows, Wukong reactivated his true sight, analyzing Macaque again.

The ball of magic in Macaque’s chest was wavering, unstable, unsteady, weak.

Well. If it was magic that Macaque needed, then Wukong just needed to find some way to feed magic to him.

…He had absolutely no idea how to do that.

He was sure there was some spell or something for it, but Wukong had never had to give his magic to somebody before. Sure, he’d had to seal magic, but never give it. He was pretty sure they were two very different processes.

Macaque’s upper arms started to fade, and the shadow monkey let out a small whimper, making Wukong refocus.

Well, if he had no other choice, then he had no other choice.

Face flushing gold at the thought of what he was about to do, Wukong grabbed hold of Macaque’s shoulders, and, before he could think better of it, closed his eyes, leaned forwards, and kissed him.

Macaque’s fur bristled, and he opened his mouth in a gasp, and Wukong pressed closer against him, biting Macaque’s bottom lip gently so that his mouth would stay open, willing his magic to somehow travel to the other.

Something in him shifted, a tear running down his face as his magic reached out towards Macaque.

A line of golden ichor dripped out of the corner of their mouths and down Macaque’s chin, falling to the floor.

Macaque swallowed instinctively.

Wukong felt something shift, and he leaned back, wiping the back of his mouth as he stared at Macaque, whose face had flushed a deep purple. Macaque’s arms and legs slowly faded back into view, and Wukong let out a sigh of relief. A soft golden light glowed through the clothes on Macaque’s chest, and Wukong gently reached out to touch it, feeling the steady hum as Macaque’s magic greedily accepted Wukong’s, merging and twisting it to match itself, stabilizing.

The glow slowly faded away, leaving Wukong to only feel Macaque’s still heaving breaths. Carefully, Wukong started rubbing comforting circles on Macaque’s chest, and then, after a few moments of that didn’t seem to help, wrapped his tail around Macaque’s waist, lifting him up, before adjusting his position so that he could hold Macaque in his lap. Macaque let out a small squeak as he was lifted, and Wukong resisted the urge to smirk, now that the danger was past. He rubbed soft circles on Macaque’s back, breathing slowly, secretly calming himself down as well as Macaque matched his breathing to his.

They sat there, in complete silence for a few minutes, neither of them saying a word. Macaque seemingly lost in his own thoughts and Wukong just staring at him silently, not wanting to say anything in case he startled Macaque into panicking again. That was the last thing he wanted right now.

Eventually, the fact he wasn’t fading away anymore finally seemed to register in Macaque’s mind as he stared down at his hands in awe, turning them over, like he expected them to start going wispy again at any moment. Then he brought them gently to his chest, taking a deep breath in and slowly letting it out, his good eye flickering purple, the glamour over his scar reappearing, hiding it from view.

Wukong gently reached out and touched Macaque’s face, rubbing the glamour away. Macaque jumped a little, somehow having forgotten through all this that he was sitting on Wukong’s lap.

And then, as soon as the realization came to him, he was squirming, trying to get out of Wukong’s grip.

“Let go- I can’t believe you just- Gah!” Macaque yelped when Wukong wrapped his arms tighter around him, squeezing him a little. “H-hey!”

Wukong didn’t say anything, simply resting his forehead against Macaque’s.

“I thought I was going to lose you again.” He whispered, gently, and he felt Macaque’s surprised exhale ghost over his lips. “I don’t want to lose you again, Liu Er.”

Macaque’s next breath was slightly shaky, as he reached up to put his hands on top of Wukong’s shoulders.

“Please.” He said, trying to smirk. “You’re not getting rid of me anytime soon. I’ve made it my life’s goal to haunt the shit out of you. Plus this whole living thing has been treating me rather well, so, yeah. Plus, how could I ever leave a world where I get to stare at your face every day?”

Wukong hummed, well aware that he was blushing gold again, a soft purr forming in his throat, but it was nothing compared to the way the purple blush on Macaque’s face burned, spreading to his ears as he realized what exactly he had said.

“I- and by that I mean- well- I, don’t take what I just said in a positive way you know!” He said, a flustered purr, louder than Wukong’s soft one, starting up in his throat as he kept talking. “I meant it in a- in a bad way- your face makes me so mad I couldn’t bear to leave a world where I haven't punched it-”

“Mhm, yeah, sure.” Wukong chuckled, amused, rubbing his forehead gently against Macaque’s as the other let out a frustrated huff. “And I could never afford to lose my best makeup artist.”

Macaque blinked, processing the sentence, before frowning.

“You’re meant to say best friend you dumbass- I’ve told you I’m not your makeup artist.”

“I know. I do mean it though. I wouldn’t want to lose one of my most important treasures in the room meant to keep my treasure safe, after all.” Wukong said.

Macaque let out a flustered sound, finally leaning back from Wukong, having lost their small bantering game, covering his face with his hands. Wukong clicked his tongue.

“You know.” He said, reaching out and grabbing hold of Macaque’s wrists to pull his hands down. “We really should cover everything with this, I might not have given you enough magic just now. So, unless you say it’s not necessary…what if I give you more to make sure?”

They both knew full well that Wukong had given him enough magic.

Still, Macaque, greedy as he was, nodded his head.

Wukong let go of one of Macaque’s wrists to gently cup Macaque’s cheek before he was leaning in, kissing him again.

Laying down on top of one of the treasure piles, observing the two monkeys, the others glanced at MK as he hummed with contemplation.

“First of all, I called it.”

Everyone gave quiet sounds of agreement, Tang going as far as to hand MK a small wad of money. MK pocketed it, before continuing.

“...Secondly, do you think they know we’re still here?”

#Monkie Kid #my writing #shadowpeach

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