#I just needed 2 get that off my chest thanks to anyone who actually reads through my nonsense

[king-mera]

Me resisting the urge to type out a long angry rant complaining abt how other people don't portray Phoebe correctly

[bloggingboutburgers]

Hey, allo anon with an ace partner here. I wanted to say thank you so much for the well wishes! I figured I would send this in here again, so anyone else who is curious about what this experience looks like from the other side can see it.

My girlfriend came out to me a little over 2 years into our relationship. At the time it surprised me a lot, because she'd never given me any signs that she wasn't enjoying what we were doing. After we talked more I understood that she wasn't repulsed by sex and she didn't hate it, but she didn't really love it either and wanted to stop doing it for a while (so a sex-neutral ace).

Honestly, at the time, I did get anxious about it. Not just because of social conventions, but because I had viewed sex as an important bonding part of our relationship. I don't do well with change, and I was super worried about how a lack of sex would change our dynamic. I also had some insecurities about my own body, and my girlfriend admitting that she didn't see me as sexy was upsetting. But after speaking to my therapist, I realized that I was projecting my own issues on to the relationship. So I spoke with her again, and she reassured me that she wanted to be with me, and that she was confiding these feelings because she trusted me. She likes how I look, she just doesn't have the same sexual impulses I do.

So, I realized this was pretty much like cuddling. I love physical touch a lot, and I want to cuddle for a much longer time than she does. I like it when someone lies on top of me. She doesn't want me on top of her chest during cuddling. She still cuddles with me, but she tells me when she's satisfied, and we stop.

A few months went by, and I noticed that she wasn't spending any less time with me; she was actually spending more. We would still call every evening when we didn't meet up in person, we would still joke around, and she still told me she loved me and did everything she could to show it to me. We also began trying out new stuff together, and playing games and watching stuff more often. We also still had plenty of physical intimacy with things like cuddling and kissing, which made me really happy.

I realized that I didn't feel like anything was missing from the relationship. I just needed her to show and tell me she loved me in the ways she normally did. Sure, I am still attracted to her that way, but it wasn't something that would make or break the relationship.

It's been years since she came out, and at this point, I never expect anything sexual. It happens rarely, and I always check in with her multiple times before and during. We stop at any point she tells me. There are quite a few hard boundaries about what is and isn't off limits, and I always keep them in mind. I would rather satisfy myself forever than make her uncomfortable, and she knows it.

It's been over 5 years and we are still going strong. I am hoping to ask her to marry me in the next few years, because honestly, I can't picture wanting anyone else by my side. She is kind, funny, beautiful, intelligent, and treats me well. I could never ask for anything more from a partner.

Thank you SO MUCH for sharing. I myself definitely lack knowledge of what it feels like from an allo's perspective, so this was very educational for me, but beyond that... You have no idea how much hope this gives me.

From you being aware of how much sex meant to you in the context of your relationship and still being fine without it, to just... Heck, even your therapist for not blaming her for the situation. Therapy is still very much, in my country at least, an area where the absence or lower levels of sexual attraction will be hastily labelled as something wrong physically or mentally, so... Yeah, the amount of relief I felt reading that, you have no idea. And I can only imagine how much your partner appreciates it too.

Honestly I teared up a bit reading this - I sincerely wish you guys all the best and I hope you have a bright future ahead! (Also fun fact, seems you guys have been together as long as my partner and I have, it's nice to be able to relate to that too hehe^^)

[steddieasitgoes]

@steddiemas Day 2 Prompt: Winter Sentence Starters

3. Did you know icicles make the perfect murder weapon?

Pairing: Pre-Steddie | wc: 1664 | Rating: T

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

“Steve?” Eddie asks, squinting into the blinding lights of the familiar burgundy Beamer that’s parked in front of the mound of snow where the driveway usually is. It’s hard to see with the blinding lights and the sunrise bouncing off the bright snow, but Eddie’s pretty sure it’s Steve. He’s the only one who drives a Beamer around these parts of town, that’s for sure.

Sitting up on the outdoor couch, he adjusts the bundle of blankets around his shoulder. His hand fumbles in between the couch cushions until he finds the half-empty box of cigarettes and the lighter he and Wayne keep stashed there “in case of emergencies.” It’s a bit of a chore given the gloves covering his hands, but he gets the job done and brings the lit smoke to his winter-chapped lips. After a slow exhale, he tries again.

“Steve? What the hell are you doing here?”

There’s a clattering on the other side of the Beamer, followed by a string of curses before a figure emerges in the shadows of the lights. “Jesus dude,” Steve gasps. One hand stays pressed against his chest, the other clings to a snow shovel. “What the hell are you doing here? You should be inside it’s freezing out.”

It is freezing out, but there’s not that big of a difference between out here and inside Eddie’s bedroom. Not since the space heater took a shit at 2 am. He tried to fix it, he did. But it’s actually really damn hard to fix a space heater at 2 am when you’ve only slept for an hour because of chronic pain and nightmares and you can’t find the damn toolbox that’s supposed to be tucked away in the closet.

Frustrated beyond belief, Eddie needed a smoke and one thing led to another, and the next thing he knew he was being woken up by the rumbling of Steve’s Beamer. At least he was smart enough to put on gloves and wrap himself in his duvet before coming out here.

“Seriously, man. You’re going to freeze to death.”

“You know the dramatics are my thing,” Eddie teases, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself. “I’ve got a blanket and gloves.” Eddie wiggles his fingers for extra emphasis. “And this head of hair isn’t just for looks. Actually keeps me pretty warm too.”

Steve snorts, absentmindedly tugging on the end of his scarf. “Yeah, okay, man. Whatever you say.”

“So, I ask again,” Eddie says, pausing to exhale another puff of smoke. “What are you doing here at whatever time it is.”

“It’s 5,” Steve supplies, then holds up the snow shovel. “Who do you think shovels the snow around here since you’re out of commission? The snow fairy?”

The smoke in Eddie’s lungs gets trapped as his body tries to laugh and instead, he sends himself into a coughing fit that has him clutching his already aching sides. “First of all fuck you. Don’t joke about fairies!” he says, all bark no bite. “Secondly, I usually shovel the snow, but as you are aware, I’m still not allowed to lift more than two pounds thanks to our wonderful Spring Break adventures.”

“And you’re milking that for all it’s worth.”

Eddie’s quick to flip him the bird, rolling his eyes in the process. “S’Wayne paying you? That old bastard better not be paying you. I never got a dime when he made me shovel.”

“Probably because you always forgot, right?”

“You know what, Steve,” Eddie starts, trying to get up from the couch when a rush of pain races up his torso. Jesus H. Christ, he should be used to this by now. Biting his lip to keep the groan in, he settles himself back on the couch.

“M’just messing with you, Eds,” Steve says, shooting him an apologetic look. If anyone knows the pain he’s going through, it’s Steve. And yet, Steve’s wounds healed in record time, and Eddie’s on month nine of barely being able to make it down the three steps of his trailer. Yet another unfairness the universe has drawn for him.

“I was over helping the Mayfields during the last big storm and saw your uncle struggling to park after his shift. Figured if I’m here helping Max, I could help you guys out too. No big deal.”

Eddie’s not sure what universe Steve lives in, but agreeing to do manual labor for free is a big deal. A massive, big deal, actually. At least, in his universe it is. He doesn’t sign up for any sort of manual labor unless he’s getting paid. Fuck capitalism and all that, but also, you know, it’s only fair to cash in when it benefits him.

“Right, well, m’sure my uncle appreciates it.”

“He does,” Steve nods, resting the shovel on his shoulder. “So, you gonna quit distracting me now so I can get to work?”

Eddie extends one glove-covered hand out in front of him, fanning it out over the mountain of white snow separating them. “The snow is yours, my liege.”

Steve snorts, shaking his head. He takes a few steps away from the Beamer before repositioning the shovel in his hands. In one fluid motion, he drives the shovel the mix of  fresh and packed snow. The metal clatter against the frozen chunks at the bottom but the sound doesn’t drown out the groan that leaves Steve's lips as he hoists a giant pile of snow up and over to the side.

Jesus H. Christ.

Eddie takes an extra long drag from his cigarette, eyes glued to Steve as he does the same thing again. He holds the smoke in his lungs, tries to concentrate on not choking as he watches Steve shovel another massive pile of snow away.

There’s at least twenty feet of distance between them, but Eddie’s eyes are glued to Steve. His pale blue puffy jacket does a lot to obscure his muscles, but Eddie’s always had an overactive imagination. He doesn’t need a clear visual to know that Steve’s biceps are straining every time he hoists the shovel out of the snow. Or the way his back muscles flex, showing off that swimmer's upper body of his.

Steve’s ditched snow pants like most do around here and instead has his trusty pair of blue jeans on. Eddie knows from experience that denim does little to shield the freezing temperatures, but he can’t complain. Not when Steve’s ass is on full display when he squats to investigate what the shovel has just slammed into. (A stray dog toy from two trailers over.)

If he doesn’t look away soon, he’s going to be in trouble. Even the cold as fuck temperature can’t keep the blood from rushing to his dick for long. A blessing and a curse, Eddie supposes.

Taking another drag, Eddie tilts his head so it rests against the headrest of the couch. Exhaling, the plume of smoke and cold air mix, getting whisked away in the early morning breeze. It might actually be colder now than it was at 2 am.

With his head still turned upward, he can hear the rhythmic sounds of Steve shoveling the snow. The clink of the metal shovel with the snow, the scrape as he digs it down to the pavement. The occasional huff of frustration when Steve’s bitten off more than he can chew. Stubborn as always.

If he keeps making noises like that though, Eddie’s going to need a lot more than a smoke and a new direction for his eyes to keep his mind out of the gutter—

Speaking of gutters, they really need to get someone to clear out all the damn icicles clinging to them like damn Christmas trees. One harsh slam of the door and he or Wayne is going to take an icicle straight to the head. A month in a coma, seven months of physical therapy, and one dropped murder charge is not going to go to waste over a goddamn icicle. Not if he can help it at least.

Honestly, out of all of that, he’s still most upset about the murder thing. He won’t even go fishing with Wayne after that one year with the fish who flopped around practically hasping for breath until Wayne stabbed it with his pocket knife. Never again. Eddie prefers his food already cooked and void of eyes thank you very much.

Besides killing someone in his house is way too obvious. An amateur move if he’s ever seen one. He’d at least been more smart about it. If he was going to kill someone, but he’s not. Obviously. But if he was, Eddie’s thoughts trail off as the sun catches on the translucent icicle, washing his body in the warm rays of sunlight.

“You know, icicles would make the perfect murder weapon.”

The sound of the snow shovel clattering to the floor startles him. His head whips in the direction of the noises. It takes a moment a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sudden change in light, but when they do Steve is staring at him, hands on his hips and a frown tugging at his pale lips.

“Maybe don’t joke about murder when we’ve just cleared your name,” Steve scolds, shaking his head. “Or do you want to go back into hiding?”

Eddie’s mouth is faster than his brain, words tumbling out before he has a chance to realize the implications of his words.

“Depends. Would you be hiding me again?”

A sickening silence falls between them as all the blood in Eddie’s body rushes to his cheeks. At least his nose isn’t cold anymore. He’s two seconds away from scampering into the trailer, head slung low in embarrassment when Steve’s unabashed chuckle breaks the silence.

“You can crash at my place anytime, you know.”

No, Eddie did not know that. But now? Now, he thinks that damn space heater isn’t worth bothering Wayne for after all.

[writingsfromhome]

Dos and Don’ts IV

A/N: hello my loves this final part to this fic completes the birth of one of my favourite fics I’ve written. Thank you for reading and enjoying it just as much—every like, comment, and dm meant the world <3

Parts: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

—————————————————

We have an extra day in Barcelona and the team is buzzing to enjoy their nightlife since we could sleep all day tomorrow. I’d visited here while I was a uni student so I give some suggestions.

Harry’s a little on edge the whole time. Earlier today some headline from a musician Harry worked with was taken out of context and thus took the internet by storm. Now he was being flooded with people wanting to know his thoughts and feelings. It was a hot topic.

With a joint effort of me, Jeff, and Graham, we tried to keep the spotlight on his Barcelona show. Well my role was mostly to screen Harry from seeing any further discourse online.

The show itself was one of the loudest I’d been to—I was glad I had my own ear protection. The tense Harry falls away and he’s electric on stage. Even coming backstage he’s on a high; he hugs the crew and thanks everyone like he usually did at the end of shows and disappears into his dressing room with Jeff. They look like they’re talking intensely.

“So,” Sarah slides in beside me. “We noticed you’re a bit different coming back. What’s happened?”

I try to play dumb but the girls keep pushing.

“Me and my fiancé ended things,” I confess. They gasp, Claire’s eyes actually fill with tears.

“Shh!” I shush them. “Keep it on the down low please I don’t want anyone to know.”

“But y/n why are you even here!? Is it because of tour! I’m sure Harry could have rearranged things-“

“No no,” I appreciated their support but I didn’t want to hash things out. “It’s just…I think it was a long time coming. God, I don’t wanna cry. I’m good. For now. And I want to be on tour I need the distraction.”

“I get it,” they sympathize. “We’re gonna make you forget so hard tonight.”

“Okay but don’t,” I look around us to make sure there was nobody else around. “Please don’t tell Harry. Seriously please. I don’t want him to know especially. I don’t want him to treat me differently or something.”

“Lips are sealed.” Sarah zips her mouth. “But we can all tell you’re off. It’s hard not to practically living together these last couple months. If he asks we’ll say…”

“Just say she’s on a break?” Charlie suggests.

“Yeah,” I shrug. “Things are complicated, I’m on a break, whatever that’s fine.”

The girls lean towards me and envelop me in a hug. It reminds me of my friends I’d said goodbye to.

“Thanks,” I say through tears.

And the girls hold me to their promise.

After we get dressed for the night—I chose a corset-style top and trousers—we head out. The sun dips below the horizon and the old city is cast in a warm orange glow that could inspire anyone who set eyes on it. String lights come on and music plays from various doors; the city is alive.

We tease each other about looking so glam as we wander the narrow cobblestone streets. Aside from the shows we all wore sweats and tees.

Every place we pass sets my senses alight. We grab tapas from a place that smells irresistible and chat over each other about tonight’s wicked show. I continue avoiding Harry by sitting as far away from him as I can get.

As we wander off in search of the club I can’t help but feel a twinge at how incredibly romantic the moonlit streets felt.

The club is loud and alive, the noise levels even feel normal after the roar of the last few of Harry’s shows. My mood starts shooting up steadily as I drink in the energy around me.

We join the crowd and I give away my worries and my annoyances to enjoy the music. I feel it in my chest and for a blissful moment I’m grateful for my whole damn life despite everything.

“Cute guy!” Someone shouts in my ear.

Charlie nudges me to one of the guys dancing nearby. “Get distracted!”

I shake my head no.

“Do it!” She cheers. It barely travels to me. She grabs Claire’s hand and tugs her, letting her in on the plan and they goad me into going for it.

I motion a drink. I’d need another shot for the courage.

We trail back to the bar and do a round of shots, and they grin with thumbs up as I hesitantly enter the crowd again.

The dude they pointed out is tall and beautiful. Like beautiful not even handsome. I get stuck looking up at him in awe, he wasn’t really my type. A tad too pretty boy but when he notices me looking he smiles and I’m won over. I couldn’t deny a good smile.

“Hey!” He turns his body to me. At least I think he say hey.

“Hey!” I shout back.

“Que pasa?”

“What?!” I couldn’t hear a single thing. What did I expect.

He smiles and takes my hand that had been anxiously playing with the edge of my top. The other has a hand splint that I’d received in Madrid. Apparently I sprained my fingers.

The stranger wriggles both my hands to loosen them, raising his brow at the splint. I laugh.

He asks in my ear but I don’t understand. It sounds like a question, something bylar. When I scrunch my brows he laughs, “Dance! We dance!?”

“Dance!” I laugh. He was cute! “Yes! I want to dance with you!”

“Vamos,” he pulls me in. I understood that at least.

I used to do this in uni, I think. I should be able to do it again.

He teases me a little because I’m so tense. His hands knead down my back to my waist to get me to relax. It feels nice, being touched by a man that looks like he was carved from marble but filled with music.

I begin to find my rhythm and sway with him, eventually letting go completely. He compliments me as I start to move with him and pretty soon I’ve channeled my 20-year-old self. It feels pretty spectacular.

When his lips ghost my cheek I don’t protest. Right now, I felt good. Everything was on the back burner’s back burner and I felt grounded in this nighclub with this random stranger who was paying attention to me, just me. And it’s just us. And it’s just temporary. And I feel good.

When I turn around, my back to his chest, he moves my hair to the side and kisses down my neck. It felt good.

I run my hand up into his hair and he moves lower murmuring foreign words on my skin, our bodies still dancing in the same language, his hands still gripping my waist and my hips. I feel blissed out.

It ends in a split second.

“What are you doing?” Harry’s suddenly tugging me towards him. His mouth makes the words I just fill them in with his annoyingly bossy voice.

“Hey man,” the guy I’m dancing with tries to get in between us.

“What are you doing!?” I snatch my hand away from Harry.

Harry puts his hand on my partner’s chest and says something to him, maybe in Spanish. He looks at me with puppy dog eyes and I look at Harry. What had he said.

“What did you say?” I ask. I try to call back my dancing partner but he just salutes me with a smile and fades into the crowd. No wait, I’m being dragged away.

“Y/n what are you doing out there?”

“What am I doing?” I shout. “What are you?! I was having a nice time with that guy what did you say to him?”

He walks away, further back into the edges of the club. There’s a few people milling about with a number of them involved in heavy makeout sessions.

Harry turns to face me finally. “You’re engaged y/n, Claire and Sarah said things are complicated at home is that why you’re doing this?”

“What!” I throw my hands up, tears prick my eyes. What the fuck was his problem! Since when did he care? “Why do you care?! Yes, things are complicated and I was getting my mind off of said things—what is your issue? You want to drag me back here and remind me of how shitty things have been?”

“This isn’t the way,” Harry insists. “You don’t even know that guy!”

“Whatever I’m over this convo.”

I turn to leave but Harry grabs my hand, the one in the splint, and pulls me back.

“Sorry,” he lets go of the splint. Then picks it up again. “Look. I’m worried about you. This isn’t you, you’re not the girl that goes home with another guy when your fiancé is back at home! I just don’t want you making any regrets.”

“Oh is that it,” I step towards him so my hand isn’t so outstretched. He stands still but on my second step he inches back. “Since when did you get a high horse huh? Don’t tell me who I am and who I’m not. You barely know me! If I want to make decisions I regret I can do that. They’re mine to make.”

“No. Y/n, as mad as you are don’t go home with a stranger.”

“As if you don’t!” I scoff. “What’s your real agenda here? What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” He insists.

“Why do you suddenly care so much about my chastity?”

“It’s for your own good!”

He’s lying. I know he’s lying and I don’t know why he pulled me away from my beautiful Spanish dance partner but I was actually relaxing and now he’s put me right back into this crazed and tense headspace I kept finding myself in.

Fine, I decide. I could make him regret it.

“Really? You care about my morality that much?” I ask.

With my hand flat on his chest I’ve pushed him further into the wall behind him. He watches me with a guarded look.

But I want him unguarded, vulnerable. The same way he’s made me feel. I lean in, “Are you really worried about the technicalities of me cheating on my fiancé?”

I hover a half foot from his lips. Finally his eyes flicker down to my lips and I know I’ve got him.

I slide my hand up his chest and when my hand inches up the skin of his throat his eyes grow unguarded and heady with lust. He doesn’t push me away. He doesn’t say no.

Hypocrite.

I drop my hand.

“That’s what I thought Mr. Styles.”

I watch for a wonderful moment as the lust clears from his eyes and he realizes what happened. Shame, embarrassment, resignation, and then anger.

I spin on my heel and head away from him. He could deal with the consequences of his actions all on his own.

I’m half-afraid he’ll come after me but luckily I make it out of the club alone.

“He’s such a dick,” I say more to myself. Just to get it out because I’m pissed. “Who the fuck does he think he is!?”

My night is over. I just want to take this all off and forget about it. Maybe I can lock myself in my room and raid the mini-fridge, get drunk and cry myself to sleep. Those seemed like the best options right now.

I take an uber to the hotel. As I walk up to it I notice a weird crowd outside. For nearly 2am I wasn’t expecting this and my instincts kick in that this wasn’t normal. Especially when I notice all the camera straps.

“Excuse me,” I ask the front desk. “Why are there a bunch of paparazzi outside?”

“Is there?” The man behind the counter asks. “Sorry we will tell them to leave. Are you staying with us?”

“That’s a privacy concern out there, and a concern with your staff because they’re here. How do they know who’s staying here?!”

It seems to dawn on him I wasn’t just asking out of curiosity. He promises me he’ll get management. In the meantime I call Jeff and explain the situation. He starts to panic the way I hated, looking for something to blame. He calls Graham who sounds like he’s driving in nascar. It’s a very noisy and over-stimulating conversation.

“Call Harry!” Jeff orders. “Tell him he cannot go back to the hotel no matter what! Fucking vultures man!”

“Y/N,” Graham says in a calmer voice. “You need to go back to where Harry is with some sort of disguise. A hat or sunglasses. That sort of thing-“

“It’s night.”

“Yes night. No glasses. Book the closest hotel you can find. Tell his band they can come back, but to go through the back. They might get spotted but they’re trained on dodging questions. That will keep the vultures there waiting for Harry and we can pick you two up back to the airport tomorrow morning. Where’s after this?”

“Glasgow,” I bite my nail as I think. I had to call Harry asap. What if he was on his way back. “I gotta go now to call him though. Talk later.”

I hang up and call Harry. He picks up the second time.

I explain the situation and he reacts the same way as Jeff, swearing and cursing the papps. I tell him what I was going to do and tell him to go right back into the club. To pass on the word to the team even though I was going to send them a text.

I head up to my room and grab what fits in my bag. I didn’t have Harry’s room key so I decide he’d have to wear my hat and head back out. The vultures stay waiting, now just a few feet further away from the entrance.

I speak briefly to management—I figured Jeff could talk to them and give his classic earful.

On the drive I find a nearby hotel to the club and collect Harry to get him there. We’re too tense to talk when we meet up. Once inside again, I tell him to sit in the lounge while I go up to the desk.

Act above it all, I channel a rich bitch. We needed privacy and we needed nobody to know Harry was here.

“Hi I need a room.” I say.

“Of course, how many night will you be staying with us.”

I glance back to see where Harry sits. He’s in a wingback chair that’s mostly turned away and with his hair stuffed in the baseball cap you can hardly tell it’s him.

“Just a night. I need your best room please.”

“Absolutely,” the woman smiles and I feel bad for only giving a tight-lipped smile back. I wait as she clicks away, finally looking back to me with a slight frown. “So miss unfortunately we are very booked tonight. There are a couple events going on in the city making things very popular.”

“The best room will do. Preferably large.”

“Well,” she hesitates. “A lot of our larger rooms are taken um. I can offer you a bed with one king, it is a bit smaller because it’s by the elevators. I also have one with a queen that is tucked away in the corner with a better view.”

I wanted to be as far away from Harry as possible but by an elevator was asking for trouble.

“Well, I’d rather stay far away from noise so we’ll take the queen.”

“Is that just you or…” she glances at Harry.

“Yes. Two. We’ve had a rough day of travel he’s just resting.”

I hand over ID and my card, trying not to balk at the total. At least I’ll get reimbursed.

“Do you have any bags?” The concierge swoops in as I get the key card.

“No! No. Like I said, bad travel day. We just need somewhere to sleep and we’ll reunite with the bags once they arrive tomorrow.”

They leave us alone after that. I hoped it was because I’d been standoffish enough and not plain weird.

The elevator ride up to the 8th floor is stony and I spend the spare second to text Jeff and Graham the hotel’s address.

The room itself is pretty sub-par and the adrenaline of getting Harry here safely wears off.

I drop my bag by the door and pull out my toiletry bag.

“I don’t have clothes for you to change into, I didn’t have your room key.”

“Yeah. S’fine. I’ll just sleep shirtless unless that bothers you.”

We stare at each other for a tense moment.

“I’m fine with that, you’re the one with the high horse.”

After doing all this for him I wasn’t going to be easy to deal with if he wasn’t going to be easy to deal with.

He chooses to ignore me.

“How the fuck did they know I was staying there? We were under a-“

His phone rings and he answers. Sounds like Jeff.

I use the time to go to the bathroom and finally take off the makeup. I realize I should have grabbed my pjs from my bag too. I take my hair down and massage my scalp with my fingers, letting myself calm down despite the aggressive voices outside.

“Yeah whatever. Keep me updated.” I hear. Great. That was done with.

I leave the bathroom and Harry’s still pacing the floor.

“You’re gonna wear the carpet down if you keep doing that.”

He stops and looks at me, his eyes trail down my body.

“You didn’t bring yourself a change of clothes either?”

“You wish,” I head for my bag again and grab the tee and shorts. “I just forgot them out here.”

“Do you always have to be so snarky?”

Oh, so he wanted to fight. Good news for him, so did I.

“Depends. With you? When you’re being a dick? Yeah. I do.”

“It’s really quite unbecoming.”

“Is it?” I mock his accent. “It’s not proper for a lady to be snarky?”

“I don’t sound like that. You just never let anything go.” He continues.

“I never let anything go?” I repeat.

“Yeah! Ever!”

“What do you want me to let go?” I ask.

“Everything. You’re bothered by everything just let it all fucking go.”

“No like specifically what should I let go?” I turn on him and with each question I stalk towards him. “Being treated like trash by you? Being told I’m replaceable and unnecessary? Getting bossed around about who I can and can’t dance with because you suddenly decide to be the morality police!?”

“Jesus take it down a notch y/n.” We’re fuming as we square off. “I’m not your bloody fiancé.”

“And thank fuck you’re not!” I throw the clothes in my hand on the bed. “You’re my employer Mr. Styles and I’ve been nothing but a good fucking employee for the last year! I try to keep my patience and do everything I can to do my best! You’re the one always trying to blur lines! You’re the one always getting in my damn business when I don’t pay you to!”

With every accusation I poke my finger into his chest and it’s like literally pushing buttons. His face gets stonier and stonier until I’m sure he’s going to crack.

“You wanna know what your fucking issue is?” He swipes my hand away.

“Oh sure tell me, wise Harry Styles who definitely has no issues at all. Tell me.”

“This. This is your fucking issue,” he spits. “You’ve always got such a temper on you! I’m not blurring any bloody lines I check up on you and you get all offended over nothing!”

“Over nothing?” I ask. I laugh sarcastically and walk away from him. I was seeing red. “Over nothing?”

“Yes! I don’t do shite and suddenly you’re trying to bite my dick off.”

“You fucking wish,” I turn on him. “It’s crazy you don’t realize what an absolute jackass you are! We should be refunding all those fans who’ve come out to see you because the man they’re paying for is a fake! You’ve treated me like nothing and embarrassed me countless time-“

“Embarrassed you,” he scoffs.

“Yes!” I go on. “What do you call what you said on our way to Paris huh? You can be so cruel! So if I have a temper it’s justified because you’re one of the worst people I’ve met!”

“What did I say?”

“Are you kidding? You’re going to make me repeat it?” He was crazy. He was depraved and absolutely insane. Or he just hated me.

“I’m not playing a game just tell me!”

“You said I could have skipped the whole tour and nobody would notice.” I say the words that had looped through my head. And of course, he has the audacity to look surprised. “Thanks. A lot! It makes it even worse that you were so casual with your cruelt-“

“You need to stop being so sensitive,” he has the nerve to say. “Then maybe you can manage your temper.”

“I can manage my temper any time but you’re moody like a pre-pubescent teen and that looks to be a lifetime fucking problem!”

“What’s your fucking problem Y/n! What is your problem with me!? Why do you still work for me if you are this angry all the time!”

“I’m not this angry all the time, you just makes me this angry! And I hate you for it!”

“Then quit!”

“Maybe I will!” I had to. After tonight and this blowout I had to. How could I work for Harry like this.

“Great! Then you can take your problems with you.”

“Don’t gaslight me,” how dare he. “You’re not innocent in this! You create my problems and blame me for being this way.”

“Whatever y/n.”

“No.” I wasn’t letting him off the hook. I get in his face again. “Why did you stop me tonight? Why did you keep me from doing what I wanted tonight?”

“What? I told you I was looking out-“

“Bullshit!” I cut him off. “That’s a bullshit excuse, I want to know why!?”

I feel like I’m made of flames and in desperate need of a lobotomy. How could one guy make me this crazy. How could it all revolve around him.

“I was doing it for your own good! But clearly I understand why it’s so fucking complicated with your partner-“

“Don’t you dare talk about him,” I seethe. I was mad. Fuming. I want to get physical, I wish I could throttle him or at the very least access one of the pillows from across the room and smash it to the floor. I want him to see how angry I am because my words are twisted with every angle Harry could find. I wanted him to admit to something he’s been skirting for a long time. “Tell me.”

Harry stares at me with hate in his eyes and I know I have the same look. I wasn’t going to let him get away.

“You don’t even have the balls to admit it,” I poke. “Is this why you’re so hard-headed to anything I say? Because you can’t even admit something like this to yourself?”

“Just shut the fuck up y/n and stop being so mental.”

“I refuse to shut up. I want you to talk.”

His breathing gets faster and I watch him flex his hand. He was as angry as I was. Good.

“You’re a fraud. And I hate you.” I step into his space. Our bodies are a hair’s breadth away from each other’s. I want to show him how mad he makes me. I want to do something. I want him to admit this thing he’s been dancing around. It makes me so mad!

When he starts to shake his head at me I lose it. Instinct takes over where I want to physically show him how angry he was making me. I grab his face in my hands and push my mouth against his. I meet teeth.

But it doesn’t take long for him to respond. To correct the unadulterated anger with purpose.

He pushes back, kissing me harder whilst pushing me against the wall. I feel sandwiched, my chest crushed against his and I bite down on his lip trying to get back some control.

My hands are all over him, grabbing his shirt, running through his hair, pushing under his shirt to touch skin. Harry does the same, pulling at my hair and lifting me onto him.

Our tongues clash together, his hand grabs my ass, squeezing and moving up. His hands feel hot on my skin, his metal rings an icy contrast. Neither of us want to give up control. We keep fighting, just now with our bodies.

“Why can’t you ever just let it go,” he traces his teeth over my collarbone. It all feels too much.

In response I push him back, he stares at me for a heated second before we crash into each other again. We don't care where we are. All that mattered was here and showing the other who was in control. Who hated who the most.

Harry pulls away, his mouth a deep pink from our fight. His eyes are half lidded, his pupils dilated. I can tell he wants this but a part of him hesitates.

"We're doing this," I commit, not taking my eyes off his lips.

"I’m doing this," he growls and lifts me up, any hesitancy washed away. I wrap my legs around him, not thinking about anything but what I was going to do.

He whirls me around and deposits me onto the bed, and his body covers mine while his mouth attack my neck.

He wasn't gentle or slow, but then again, I didn't want him to be. I pull off his shirt, not wanting anything between us, not caring that my nails would leave marks down his back. Leaving something permanent on him sounded exactly what I needed.

I tug on his hair as his teeth come down on my chest. I feel heated as he swears, “Teasing me with this top all night was a fucking sin y/n.”

“Fuck off,” I gasp as he figures out the row of clasps at the front and the icy rings of his fingers presses against my sternum. I grit my teeth, “I didn’t wear this for you.”

His abs contract as he pushes himself back up, his eyes dark as his hands find the clasp on my trousers, undoing them with ease and tugging them off. His other hand comes back up to tilt my chin up.

“D’you really hate me?” He asks.

“Yes,” I respond with zero hesitation.

He moves his body, covering mine with his own again. My breath catches in my throat as he presses his lips to my neck, slowly moving down. He drives me crazy with anticipation and I wriggle up to keep up the pace but he holds me in place. I let out a moan as he kisses my inner thighs, his fingers gripping the tops of them. I'm squirming under his hold, the heat pooling inside of me.

“Do you hate me?” He asks again.

“Yes,” I cry, not wanting to relent to him.

“Good,” he says and that’s the last thing I remember.

The rest is a tangle of limbs, an out-of-body sensation, and seismic wave after wave coursing through my body. It’s unlike anything I’ve experienced before; the fury we felt with each other fuzes to the passion of the moment and it blitzes every damn thought out of my head.

Hours later, or maybe the whole night later—I don’t know but all I do know was that my body was spent and I was barely hanging on.

“I can’t,” I plant my hands on his shoulders and nearly pitch forward just from pausing. His hand splays on my back, keeping me in place as he turns us around.

“Okay?” He asks low.

I nod, grateful that he was taking over.

And after riding out what I know would be my last wave he rolls off of me, and we lay there just trying to catch our breaths.

After a few minutes, I sense him tilting towards me, his eyes on my face. When he stares for so long it becomes obvious, I look back at him.

His eyes are not the same ones that started this mess, they’re breezy meadows of green compared to the icy sea glass from before. But it’s not surprising. With each round and each minute we spent with other tonight, things had grown softer. Not gentle, but softer.

And as we look at each other with the awareness that the anger had bled into the threads of these tangled sheets a long time ago, we’re left with something neither of us want to distinguish. At least I don’t.

His gaze holds something too real for a place like this and I quickly look away and back at the ceiling. I feel his eyes on me a moment longer before he himself turns away to stare at the same ceiling.

“Y/N,” someone suddenly calls my name, tapping my cheeks with a gentle pat. I have to pull myself from the depths of wherever the fuck I just went to open my eyes and look up, at Harry. He looks concerned and asks me a question that I don’t register—I was truly out of it. I must have dozed off.

I push his hand away and grab the closest piece of clothing to wrap around myself in which ends up being a sheet. I take myself to the bathroom to clean up.

I hardly recognize the girl in the mirror. My eyes are blown out and my neck looks like it was rammed by a bull. I can hardly look at the rest of me. I would need to buy something high necked before we got picked up tomorrow morning and use all the concealer I had. I know I marked every inch of him I could find too.

I had never felt that level of passion with anyone. It was unnerving.

My knees collapse under me as I sit on the toilet and try to count the tiles on the opposite wall, just to come back to earth. To my body.

I sense a shadow under the door after I’m in there for a while, I watch it move from one side to the other and then move away. I wait longer, nearly falling asleep there before going back out.

The bed looks a right mess and most of the duvet is twisted to the side. I don’t bother with it, I use the sheet I’m wrapped in and crawl right into bed. Harry seems to have fallen asleep too but as I near sleep I feel the bed dip and the heavy weight of the duvet drapes over me.

I don’t have enough clarity or energy tonight to think about what any of this meant but I know I was right about leaving.

***

We return to London on a Wednesday morning and nearly kiss the ground. Harry was still playing two shows here but getting to go back home instead of a hotel room was enough to make us weep.

I didn’t really have a home to go back to. I’d been thinking about that a lot as the tour took us closer and closer to London. I had texted Gray yesterday and we agreed I could crash there until this weekend to get my stuff together.

London had a metaphorical grey fog over it in my mind. Nothing felt appealing about it and the only thing on my mind these days was home—my childhood home.

I already knew I was going to give in my resignation letter to Harry after tour but I had a 3 week period under contract. I don’t think I could afford a hotel for three weeks and staying with any of my friends is out of the question.

These thoughts kept me preoccupied.

It helped me not to think about that night though. I avoided Harry unless it was for work, returning to the solitude of my first few months working for him. He does the same: curt and avoidant. I know others notice but nobody dares to ask.

It was the most intense thing I’d done in my whole life and that was saying something. There was a way that Harry got under my skin that nobody else could. And it was hard to find a balance after the scales had shifted so far in that direction.

I felt like I had to block it out until I could have space to process it. And yet memories still seeped through when I was quiet for a moment too long or when he’d walk past me with the same cologne as that night and I’d catch a whiff. I was doubly sure this chapter had to close.

When I get back to the flat on Wednesday Gray has vanished as he promised. He told me he’d drop by that evening to talk. Surprisingly, I felt calm about it. I don’t know if it was getting all of that ferocious energy out that had been churning for months, but I feel level-headed and I appreciate the space to myself.

Gray texts me before he arrives. Like this wasn’t the flat he was now paying for alone.

I know what he wanted to talk about—we were all supposed to go to Harry’s last show at the o2 since I had tickets for everyone. Josie was stoked and based on the way she’s been texting me leading up to the day I don’t think she knew. Gray confirms it.

“So,” he rubs the back of his neck. He looked nice in a beanie and corduroy jacket. I wonder if any of the effort was for me, then vanish the thought.

“So,” I echo.

We stand awkwardly across from each other—him propping himself up behind the couch and me leaning against the dining table. Like we needed to get as much furniture between us. Like we hadn’t shared a bed a few weeks ago.

“We should sit?”

“Yeah,” he attempts a laugh and sits on the sofa. I choose the closest chair and turn it to face him. “Yeah. Um, I don’t know how you feel about Saturday. But I haven’t told Josie yet. I haven’t really told anyone.”

I nod, “Me too. Not really. People at work think we’re on a break.”

“Right. Good.” He says. “I’m not tryna lie to people but I don’t really want to get into it…”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “So Josie?”

“I’ll let her know once…once you move out?”

Move out. Of this flat. It’s been home for nearly 3 years.

Gray had surprised me with it when he found it—I had been broke and only been able to pitch in for utilities and groceries but he’d been gracious. He’d been supportive once. But I guess his support had boundaries too. I didn’t entirely blame him for that.

“Sounds good. Or later, maybe when she’s done her exams.”

He leans back on the couch, arms spread over the back and sighs as he studies me. “Yeah of course. I should’ve thought of that. You’re always good at that stuff. She’s gonna be gutted.”

I nod. Not sure what to say to that.

“So you’ll be out on Saturday yeah?” He asks after a while. It seemed both of us had a lot on our minds. But his question stings a little.

“Yep. I’m off for most of the week so I’ll just pack things up. Uhm, with Josie and whatnot I guess we’re still acting like a couple? Will that be weird?”

“Yeah. It will be but we’ve got no other option.”

“Right.” I respond. His voice grows an edge I’m not a fan of. “Well. Thanks for letting me stay here. If you need anything else I guess you can grab it now.”

I want to ask how he’s doing, who he’s staying with, and just hold his face one last time to really remember. But his cold apathy grows like frostbite over the room and creeps into my heart. I always thought where there was love there would always be love but I’m not as sure tonight.

I stay busy and when I can’t sleep at night; I map out a dream, an exit plan home. I write up my resignation letter, I look at flights and rentals and talk things out with my family, I cancel wedding and couple shit, and grieve a fair bit.

On Friday afternoon, my only formal shift this week, I head to Harry’s with an anxious weight in my chest and a buzz in my head from the hope. Hope that this chapter of my life could end soon, and I can head home and recuperate and plan out what my life was going to look like.

Harry’s on a call when I get in. He spares me a glance but I head to the office with my stack of mail. Today was mostly for some housekeeping/admin but I hope to avoid Harry for the most part like I’ve done since that night. My letter sits like a bar of gold in my bag.

I hear him move about the flat. I restock some pantry items, and we speak as little as possible. Going with him to his meeting was my final task for today so I decide it’s a good time to hand in my letter.

I find him sitting in the studio, tapping a pen against the table.

“Mr. Styles?”

“Hm?” He drags his eyes away from his screen to look at me.

“So we’re heading to your meeting in 10. Before then I just wanted to hand this in.”

The envelope stays outstretched in my hand and he eyes it, not taking it.

“What is that?”

“Can you just take it?” I shake it a little, like a bag of treats for a puppy.

His muscles move one inch every ten seconds, that’s how slow he is to sit up in his seat and finally take the letter from my hands. I almost let out a big sigh of relief. The process was finally in place.

“What is it?” He asks again, tearing the corner and down the side like he usually did.

I wait for him to unfold the thirds before answering, “my resignation letter.”

His eyes scan the sheet left to right right to left and when he looks up at me it’s hard to say what he’s thinking.

“Is this a joke?”

“No? Obviously not? I’m handing in my 3 weeks. I’ll also email a copy to Jeff and you.”

“Why are you doing this?” He stands, his tall frame rigid.

“Why? Because I’m…I’m quitting? I think I’ve learned everything I could here a-and it’s time to move on.”

By here I don’t mean working for Harry Styles and co but just here as in London. I’ve learned a fuck ton of life lessons here, and it was time to process them elsewhere.

“Is this to get back at me somehow? I don’t understand,” the papers crinkle in his fist as he grips it tighter. “Do you want a raise? Can we talk about this?”

“No.” I say and even though there’s so much more I could say I think that sums up my answer.

He looks puzzled, then annoyed. Just then my phone buzzes. The car was downstairs.

I grab my laptop and we head down. I was coming along to take minutes and then head home. In the car I reassure Harry,

“I plan on wrapping things up in the next three weeks and making sure everything is set up for an easy transition. I’ll leave continuity notes and reach out to people I regularly communicate with to break the news. The next couple months are pretty easy anyway coming out of tour and going on holiday so there should be plenty of time for the new PA, whoever your hire, to catch up.”

He doesn’t say a word. It reminds me of our first drive to the studio together. How naïve I was. How things changed.

He continues staring out the window, resting his face on his fist. I remember my teeth dragging over that jaw. I blink the image away; this was why I had to go.

When we get to Graham’s office Harry tells Jeff, “we don’t need minutes.”

Jeff looks over at me for answers and I shrug. I guess I came here for no reason but at least I had my laptop to work.

“Uh y/n please come i-“

“She’s fine working out there,” Harry cuts Graham off. Graham looks offended, his gaze drawing between Harry and I. Again, I shrug. I wasn’t leaving today I don’t know why he was acting like it.

For the next hour or so I sit at a spare cubicle and do just as I said in the car. I type out lists for upcoming interviews and studio days. I send emails for information to note for whoever the poor person was to replace me.

I had been keeping the Dos and Don’ts updated over the last year and it feels like a baby the way it came together with so much thought. I was almost sad to part with it.

Nobody tells me the meeting is over. The door simply opens and Harry breezes past.

“I’ll be in the car.” He mutters. Any faster and I would have to hold down the papers around me.

When he’s gone beyond sight, I turn back to the open door.

“What’s the matter with him?” I hear Graham asking inside.

“You keep pushing him,” Jeff responds with irritation. “That’s not his brand Graham.”

“Well that’s a different tune. Prior to this you were singing my praises with these new ideas.”

“I don’t know. Something’s been up with him for…a while-“

“Since that article isn’t it?” Graham references the Harry Styles slander when we were in Spain. Little did they know other things had also happened.

“We dealt with that article.”

Shit, I think. Has he been any different? I think I was keeping too much distance from him to notice.

“Y/n,” my name snaps me out of my thoughts.

“Mhm?” I’m beckoned to the meeting room. “Yes?”

“Find out what’s wrong with him. Or better yet just convince him to be a bit more alive at his last show tomorrow with his usual charm? He hasn’t been his full capacity the last few shows has he?”

Shit. “Um. Burnout?”

The two men look at each other. They make a face like that couldn’t possibly be why. I tell the men what they want to hear, that I’d try to find out and get him back to his charming self (yuck) before joining Harry in the car.

“Jeff and Graham aren’t all that happy with you,” I say when we start driving. Harry was giving me a lift home. “They’re insisting you do it right at your final tomorrow. Be your charming self.”

He grunts in response, head facing the window again. Was he allergic to look forward in the car or something?

“Are you coming?” He asks after a good ten minutes of silence.

“Tomorrow?”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah. I gave my extra tickets to…my fiance,” my brain fumbles my words as it remembers what he was and now is. And the lie I had to keep up. “And his sister and her friend.”

He just nods in acknowledgement, somehow stonier.

When the car pulls up to my familiar building I thank his driver and begin my shimmy out but Harry puts a hand to my knee to stop me. His touch sears right through my stockings and he must feel it too because he slides his hand back.

“Answer this,” he looks at me for the first time tonight. Wow, this really did feel like my first week on the job.

“Sure,” I reply.

“Is it because of that night?”

It’s the first time it’s been mentioned, and his gaze burns brighter than a forest fire. It’s mesmerizing and I can’t look away.

Wait, he wanted an answer.

“It’s because of a lot of things,” I answer truthfully.

He clenches his jaw. Leans back in his seat. The seatbelt reverses to hold him in place again and he’s no longer looking at me. I take that as my cue to go.

***

Josie bursts into the flat dressed to the nines in a groovy floral jumpsuit and boas in her hand. “Don’t worry. I have one for each of us.”

Her friend trails behind her in an equally 70s inspired look.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Josie judges her brother’s hoodie and jeans. “You’re lowering the vibe Gray do better. Y/n? Why didn’t you brief him?”

“I did!” I eye Gray. “Don’t blame me.”

This was way more awkward than I thought. Or I really was not as good of an actress as I wished.

“What am I supposed to wear?” Gray asks. “I’m not wearing a jumpsuit.”

Josie rolls her eyes. “Y/n please drag him back and find a decent tee or something?”

“Yes ma’am,” I take Gray by the arm and take him back.

“This is kinda weird hey?” I whisper when we close the door.

“I don’t really like it either,” Gray scratches his head. “But it’s for the best.”

I nod and then louder announce, “Well it’s Jo’s night so find something a tad more retro?”

We end up with a red tee and find a belt to tie the look. Josie hugs her brother with thanks when she sees it.

I had on a pair of black bellbottoms paired with a blank tank. My hair was in spacebuns and Josie plucks a few boa feathers to accessorize my hair. It’s cute.

We head off and I have to make a conscious effort to remember my mannerisms with Gray before all this. I feel woozy while I slide my hand into his on the ride there, as Josie snaps our pics on her disposable, as she tells us to get one of us where Gray’s kissing my cheek and she’ll save it to show our kids. It makes me sick.

He keeps an arm on my waist as we walk. I want this night to be over so bad but every time I look Josie’s way I perk back up a little. I wanted her to enjoy this.

And she does. I’m sure she’s lost her voice by the end of the concert. At one point we drift away a little and breathe easier to drop the act but when she’s back Gray wraps his arms around me from behind and we act like a happy couple. Again, I felt sick.

Being in Gray’s arms held none of the spark it used to. I just feel awkward and sad.

At one point Harry looks my way, I don’t know how he spotted me in such a big crowd. It’s between songs and he looks at the group I’m with. I give a pathetic wave and he nods ever so slightly, his gaze sliding off soon after. Gray’s arm tightens around my shoulder and my heart gives a squeeze in response. I’m reminded: this era was ending.

The band told me to meet them backstage at the end, to join in on the final-show celebration. Josie and Gray would wait at a local pub and with the way Josie’s Instagram stories were glowing I could imagine her sitting there uploading it all.

“I couldn’t have done it without any of you,” I catch Harry saying as I slip behind stage with my pass. “I know I’ve not been the easiest to be with but you all sit in my heart. This is our Euro tour, concluded.”

Somebody pops bubbly and I congratulate the whole team as they drink. They insist on going out for proper drinks and I’m denied not going. They tell me to invite my guests to party with them and I know, based on where we were going, Josie was going to flip.

Juniper, a club that gets us all in on Harry’s face card, is opulent and lively on the inside. Josie is buzzing about with her friend—Gray had opted to go home, claiming he had early morning sessions. Josie didn’t think twice about him, but we pretended to go back and forth with a final warning from Gray to Josie to behave.

“He’s a broody one,” Charlie comments on Gray as we chatter while we get drinks. “Sister?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t know yet though so,” I put my finger to my lip.

“So no Barcelona dancing tonight?” Sarah teases. I laugh and tell them to keep me tamed. “We gotta do some shots with the team though where is everyone?”

We gaze around the room and manage to get everyone together. After one round of shots and another that Harry forced on all of us I feel the tension I’ve been carrying with me most days slide away.

We end up sticking together as a group and dance together, laughing and cheering each other on. Even Harry’s in a cheery mood—I suspect the alcohol. I catch him watching me at one point and when I raise my brow he takes my hand and spins me in a friendly twirl. I trip on my wide-legged pants and he catches me from behind. With my back to his chest I have the urge to turn around and kiss him and feel the peculiar comfort I had received from him before. That thought drives me away from him again. Despite the tight knit group there’s too much between us to even attempt being close.

I call it quits when Josie finds me and announces she was going home. I hug the newfound family I had made over the last few months one final goodbye, knowing I might never see them together like this again.

***

Jeff’s reaction to my news surprises me the most. He’s visibly upset and tries to sell me anything to stay. I tell him there was nothing to keep me at my job but I would rely on him for a good reference. I think it’s the first time he’s ever reassured me.

Between Harry and I it remains curt. Sometimes even edgy. I post my own job replacement and Jeff keeps me updated on potential candidates. By the time my last week rolls around I’m host to a roil of emotions.

The first week homeless, Charlie had let me crash on her couch and promised not to say a word to anyone. I didn’t want to overstay my welcome and so I had checked into a hotel and called it home for now.

I’m on my way back home to the hotel after being at Gray’s. We’d invited Josie over for dinner now that her exams were over and she’d been suspicious from the start.

We had told her the truth and she refused to believe it, hurt and betrayal in her eyes as she looked at me and realized she had been kept in the dark for the last week. I felt worse then, than I did when Gray and I called it quits.

I promised her a lunch together this week to talk more. Just because I was out of Gray’s life didn’t mean I had to be out of hers. I thought I could also tell her then that I was leaving to go back home.

On my second last day at work, Harry sends me on an errand near the end of the day. When I get back there’s a small group of friendly and familiar faces waiting to surprise me. I’m touched by the gesture, and I try to corner Harry to say thank you but it feels he avoids me at every chance, always in a larger crowd.

I finally catch him while I’m heading out of the bathroom and he’s heading down the hall.

“Oh hey,” I step in his way. He looks cornered. “I just wanted to say thanks for throwing this.”

“Yeah,” he gestures it was nothing. “It was Jeff’s idea.”

Ouch. I hide the sting. “Well. Thanks regardless.”

He nods, staying mute, but his eyes speak a thousand words—just none that I can read. They stay trained on me, communicating whatever.

Slowly the furrow between his brows eases and the sharp edges of his face give way to a softened expression. I’m scared to move in case I break the trance and don’t get to hear whatever his racing thoughts spit out. Just when it looks like he’s about to say something, a guest turns the corner up the hall.

“Anyone in the toilet?” It was Mitch. Damnit.

“Nope,” I step out of the way, inadvertently brushing Harry. A shiver runs up my spine and I try to act casual but he stiffens beside me. Was it that awful being around me, jeez.

I give up. If he wanted to continue staying moody, so be it. I leave to go back to the party and don’t look back.

My final days in London are hard. The same way I arrived, I go: alone and unsure of what’s ahead.

I always thought here was where I would stay forever. And maybe one day I would return but there was a little too much friction between me and the Capital.

I finish work on an unremarkable note after going through processes with the new hire, and dotting all of my i’s. Harry is nowhere to be seen and I’m gone before he gets back. I’m frustrated that he’s behaving this way but there’s also too much between us for the simple goodbye I yearn for.

I visit all of my old favourites, have one last drink at my old local pub somewhere in between Gray’s flat and Harry’s. I shed a lot of tears on my pilgrimage through the city’s veins. I promise the paved and cobblestone roads I would be back one day.

The walls of my lungs ease open on the flight home. Still, tears cascade down my face silently as the plane sleeps. Eventually I do too. When I wake the sky is filled with bright blinding sunrise, and American soil peeks out below me: I was finally home.

••••••••••••••••••••

Present (2 years on):

My heart flutters seeing Harry here, I chalk it up to anxiety. But it annoys me that despite all the distance and the growth, he still had an effect on me.

Harry’s head turns and before I can be smart about it our eyes lock. His eyebrows raise ever so slightly before his face falls into a nonchalant facade again. I don’t even want to know what my face looked like.

Then he gets the nerve to smirk, hang his head, and then grab his drink and walk towards me.

“If I had a cross I would be holding it up right now.” I have to shout a little so he hears me before he gets to me. He was an emotional vampire feeding on all of mine.

“Now why’s that?” He continues towards me. My emotions swirl through me. “I thought time heals all wounds. Why the unfriendly welcome Mrs. Duran?”

I grit my teeth at the name, he was still filled with poison. “Right, the timeless wisdom of clichés.”

“I like to think I’m pretty timeless.” He smiles.

“I’ve found that time may heal wounds, but scars make sure you never forget.”

“Well, scars aside, you look good,” he moves on and I feel like an idiot the way I was used to feeling around him.

“Of course I do.”

“What are you doing in London? Last I checked I was getting a reference check from America.”

I debate not answering him but I was trying to straddle the line between indifference and confidence. It was like walking a tightrope.

“I’m in London for a little while,” I give vaguely.

“Ah,” he smiles and damnit I forgot how handsome he could be. How handsome could then turn into seductive so quickly. I had to remember: Still a devil. “Are you looking for a new employer? Because I could be hiri-“

“No.” I cut him off. “I finally have a job I love so I’m good.”

Something flickers in his eyes but surprisingly he stays quiet.

“What are you doing here? At The Violinist?” I ask. I sort of wish I still had a drink in my hand, they feel awkward and clunky and I want to avoid playing with my hair. Gah. “Global star drinks alone at his local bar?”

He laughs but I can tell I hit a minor nerve. “Here I’m just a local. Always have been—it’s nice to be anonymous for a little bit.”

I roll my eyes. I didn’t believe that for a second. He loved his fame and everything that came with it.

Plus I used to come here all the time, I would’ve known if my employer was a local too. He was lying for some reason.

“Mr. Styles if there’s one thing I remember about you, you’d choose death over anonymity.”

“Firstly,” he leans in and I get a whiff of his usual cologne with a hint of malt. “A person can change a lot. So maybe you don’t know me as much as you think you do-“

“Oh I don’t think anyone can change that drastically in only a year-“

“You seemed to have.”

His words take mine out of my mouth. I hadn’t changed, not really. I’d always been this y/n but the further I got away from him the more reassured I had gotten being that y/n.

“And secondly,” he continues before I could think of a response. “You no longer work for me. Harry is fine.”

The smile he throws me is almost sweet if I didn’t know the cruelty that could hide underneath. I don’t return the smile, I only raise my brow and look back down at my phone. My cell service hasn’t gotten any better and I’d missed the wifi password.

I could connect to Harry’s wifi, ask him so that I could order an uber.

I’d rather van gogh my ear.

I weigh all my options and consider the last one again. I look up to see what Harry was doing in the silence and find him looking at me. A shiver runs up my spine as our eyes clash. So much history and words unspoken fall in between. A very specific night flashes through my mind. I wonder if it does him because he looks down first. Damn.

“So I’ve gotta get going,” I say.

“Let me buy you a drink.” He says at the same time.

He laughs awkwardly and repeats, “One drink?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“We’re not drinking buddies.” I pull my purse to my chest, wanting to hop off this stool and run home if I need to. Put as much distance between myself and this man that was put on this earth to confuse me.

“Then what are we y/n?” He asks, his voice silky smooth as he leans in. The voice that whispered sweet nothings into my ear in my worst nightmares, nightmares of cotton sheets and heated limbs, of passion and shame.

“Ex-employer,” I point to him. I point to myself, “Ex-employee.”

“Exes have drinks together,” he grins full well knowing the double meaning.

“Never ends well,” I eye the door.

“Just as stubborn as I remember.”

“And you were saying people change?” I raise my brow.

He drops the smile and sighs, “I’m not gonna be able to convince ya am I?”

I shake my head. He should know that by now.

“Can I walk you out at least?”

I shrug, couldn’t hurt.

“What is this?” I ask as he opens the door for me.

“What?”

“This? Why are you trying to be so friendly?”

“I thought we could be friendly exes.”

And when did he get so cheeky.

“Something weird is going on,” I watch him stay in step with me as I walk up. With no service I was going to take the tube. “And I don’t like it.”

“Nothing weird is going on don’t get all paranoid on me.”

“Don’t call me paranoid! You never call a woman paranoid.”

“I thought that was conspiracy theorists?”

“Nooo. You’re being weird.”

"Alright, no need to get all Freudian on me. Just trying to be a decent human here."

I shake my head, somehow in our exchange my face had decided it was okay to smile. To forget what he put me through and remember instead that when things were good between us we actually got along.

Damnit. The devil knew how to play tricks. I wipe the smile off my face while he continues walking with me.

“So…what have you been up to?” He asks.

“Working, you know me.” I say after trying to figure out what his angle was but unable to find one.

“Oretta Smith I hear, how did you manage that?”

“I’m just that good Harry,” I say. His name is weird in my mouth. Sure I called him that in my head but I usually used Mr. Styles. I can tell he feels the same with his quick glance my way.

“How do you like that?”

“Yeah, she’s a great employer like I said. Very professional. Lots of flexibility.” Each praise is a knock to his ego. But it was all true, plus with Winnie joining the team I had a friend my age that felt great.

But there was also a darker side called burnout that I barely admitted to myself. Ever since we landed in London and I had time to orient my new self in a city that molded my old self, I felt the familiar singe of purposeless. But I keep it to myself of course.

“Great.” Harry responds curtly. “What about yourself? How’s your life, are you finally married?”

My instinct is to raise my defences and chew him out, he must know Gray and I were done what with me living in the States.

And yet, when I peer past the defences and take a long hard look at him I realize he is asking earnestly and without another angle.

We’re nearing the tube now. I hesitate in lying or telling the truth.

“We broke up,” I choose to confess. I peek at him and he looks surprised, even sorry.

“I didn’t know. Sorry.”

“I’d hope not,” I reply. “Otherwise you’d be an asshole calling me Mrs. Duran.”

He huffs an awkward laugh.

“Anyway this is me—

“I can give you a ride home—wherever that is right now?” He asks.

We’re stood in front of the glass doors. There’s not a lot of people this time of night. And as tempting as his offer was, the way he looks at me right now sends poisonous butterflies to my stomach and I think it’s best I get home for the big day tomorrow and not make any regrets.

“I’m not too far,” I lie. I point a thumb to the doors behind me. “I’m just gonna…”

“Yeah. Yeah right.” He’s awkward, which is a first. He clears his throat and stuffs his hand into his pocket. I watch him with a removed sort of curiosity. Eventually he coughs out his question. “How long are you in London for?”

“A few weeks,” I reply.

He finally meets my eyes again—and there goes my stomach. He was supposed to have zero effect on me, I was supposed to stay mad at him. Why was my body betraying me? Why did it continue to loop memories from that night and remind me of the things he whispered in the dark?

“A few weeks,” he murmurs back.

His gaze travels over my face openly, no longer holding back the barely-hidden expressions from before. Because I told him Gray and I weren’t a thing? Because I was entertaining whatever bullshit this was?

“Yep,” I nod. Awkward. Nervous. Cautious.

“My number’s the same,” his eyes snap back to mine. “If you want to go for that drink later.”

“Harry,” I try to break it to him another way. I wish I could just say I never want that drink. “I don’t think-“

“Don’t think,” he cuts me off. He laughs when I furrow my brows. “I mean, I’m right here for most of the next few weeks. When you feel like you want to have that drink just give me a call. Or text.”

Why, I want to ask him. Why, after all this time, after everything that happened? And it’s like he reads my mind in the silence.

“I know you left on a pretty poor note.” He shuffles his feet. “I know a lot of that was my fault. I apologize for that. Um, but I did enjoy having you around. You were excellent at your job and…you are missed. Even Jeff remembers you fondly. Which is saying something.”

This was some sort of prank. Or Harry had gotten so famous he now had a doppelgänger roaming the streets as him. It couldn’t be that Harry, my Harry, would say something so sentimental and so…genuine.

“So uh yeah, I would love to see you again while you’re in town.” He says when I don’t respond.

“Right.” I choke out.

He shrugs when I can’t bring myself to say anything more. “We do change, whether you believe it or not y/n.”

I swallow, hoping to lubricate my vocal cords and find my voice. “I-I really do have to go.”

Crestfallen, he nods. His hand comes up to touch my elbow. “Yeah ‘course. Just…think about it?”

I look down at his hand and he lets go, we stay in another bubble of silence. His eyes flicker down to my lips and I feel a wave of warmth as I try not to do the same.

“Goodnight,” I blurt and get to the other side of the glass doors. He watches me go.

On the escalator down I risk a glance back and he’s still there, watching until I’m out of sight. That ended incredibly awkward.

Leave it up to Harry to confuse me in coming back into my life. Damn him, he could never be consistent.

***

Waking up super early to catch the train out to Cambridge is so worth it because I get to watch Josie walk the stage and graduate with distinction wearing her famous smile that beams over the vast room.

Despite what happened with Gray and I, Josie and I have kept in touch steadily over the last year. It started as weekly facetimes which reduced down to monthly calls and have now become a steady stream of texts and memes swapped back and forth.

When she found out I’d be in London around her graduation dates she gave me no choice but to show up, sending me a ticket without asking.

I knew I’d see Gray, and a part of me was nervous and curious how that was going to go. But mostly I was grateful to still be in Josie’s life and spend time with her in person. She was the part of this life I missed most.

I’m sat somewhere in the middle of the room and Josie was smart enough not to seat me with the rest of her guests. But I know I would see everyone during photos and the dinner we were having later on. I try keep my focus on the ceremony however.

“Y/N!” Josie rushes towards me when she sees me after the ceremony. The group she departs from I recognize is a mix of her girl friends, her family, and a few others.

“Josie!” I return the same energy and she leaps into my arms. I squeeze her tight to me. “I’m soo proud of you my girl.”

We sway side to side, until we get enough hug.

“Look at you!” She exclaims when she leans back. “Your hair looks amazing and you are glowing. Please tell me you have a boy in your life.”

“No,” I laugh.

“A girl?” She asks hesitantly.

“No! I’m just…happy where I am right now! How about you look at you! You look phenomenal as per.”

“Oh thanks,” she takes the compliment and giggles. “I asked my dad to grad gift me a salon and spa visit so I am rejuvenated and blown out.”

“Aren’t you ever,” I touch a lock of her hair. “Congratulations.”

“Eek!” She squeals. “Finally finished this hellscape! I can’t wait to never write an exam again—ooh wait I want you to meet my boy…”

“So that’s why we’re actually glowing,” I tease as she tugs me towards the group. That definitely has Gray. My stomach drops the closer we get, he doesn’t seem to notice. He looks busy talking to one of Josie’s friends.

“Anyway,” she deposits me in front of a 6 foot something guy made of angles. “This is Jax. My boyfriend. We met during a Friendsgiving Myles threw last year.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jax smiles. “Y/N right?”

“Yes!”

“I was supposed to get around to that,” Josie huffs.

“Sorry she talked about you a lot when she found out you were coming. She was really excited.”

“Ugh,” she turns to me like she was embarrassed but her face is glowing. Josie was in looove.

“You two are so cute,” I tease which just makes Josie blush a little harder. “So are we getting any pictures?”

“Oh yeah,” Jax swivels his head. “Liliya has the good camera if you want to get-“

“Oh we can use our phones,” Josie cuts him off.

“No get the high res one—Liliya, camera?” Jax motions a shuttering action to the friend Gray was talking to. He’s so tall above the crowd that both look up at him and comply.

“Y/N,” Josie drags my arms back and takes me on the outskirt of the crowd. “I’m so sorry I never mentioned because I thought you wouldn’t come if I did tell you but you-“

“Y/N?”

Josie’s rushed whispers are cut short when Gray notices me and calls my name. He looks stupefied. I spare a glance to Josie and she’s paled.

She didn’t tell him.

“Hey,” I force a friendly tone. I was going to kill that girl.

“Did you all want a photo?” Josie’s friend Liliya shoulders her way back into the circle with the camera on a strap. She turns to Gray, “Babe?”

It’s an odd sensation, like all oxygen has left my lungs and they’re being squeezed as if tightened in a vice. Gray’s eyes drag away from me to his…girlfriend? Definitely not Josie’s friend.

It shakes me in the moment how much I realize I still cared, still carried a shred of hope for…something. And not consciously knowing this makes this moment feel a little like a slap in the face.

What did I think? I was going to leave this country for a year and people were going to pause where I last left them? Of course Gray’s moved on. Aside from the end he was a great partner and anybody would want that.

These thoughts race through my head in the few seconds Gray responds to his girlfriend and I look at Josie. She looks guilty as charged.

“I tried to tell you just now?” She whispers.

Deep breaths, I remind myself. You’re not the hot-headed y/n these people knew last. This day is not about you. It’s about Josie.

“It’s cool. Let’s get some photos,” I smile. “Don’t want to miss having them with you.”

She sighs but keeps her eyes on my face as we walk farther out.

“I am really sorry,” she whispers.

“Hey it’s alright,” I lie. This was the worst of it—Gray had moved on, had a great girlfriend, and I was living the life I wanted. No harm and no foul. “Honestly Jo I get it, you wanted me here reallllly bad.”

“I did!” She says. “But I’m also gonna kill Jax.”

I laugh and we straighten up when we realize the camera was already pointed at us. Josie flashes her degree and a few of her friends join the pictures too. We hustle back to Gray to see them and flipping back on the first few makes my breath catch in my throat. There’s one in particular where Josie is turned to me talking and my mouth is in a big grin because I’m laughing.

I catch eyes with Gray in an uncomfortably intimate second.

“Send me that one for sure wow Gray that’s a really good shot.”

“Oh wow,” his girlfriend peers over. “That’s a great candid.”

“Yeah,” I agree. I’d love a copy too. And of course that’s when Gray’s girlfriend notices me and introduces herself.

“I don’t think we’ve met—is that an American accent I detect?”

“It is,” I smile. “I’m Y/N.”

“Oh!” Two spots of pink appear on her face. It seems she’s heard of me. “Well it’s nice to meet you—nice that Josie invited you! I’m Liliya but Lily works too.”

“C’mon!” Josie interrupts the awkward by grabbing her brother’s arm and pushes him in the direction of where her friends are posing for photos. He takes some shots but Josie hates the look of them and gives the camera to Lily instead.

With just Gray and I left behind it grows very awkward.

“I thought Josie told everyone I would be-“ I say just as he says, “I didn’t realize you would be-“

We stop and chuckle awkwardly.

“Sorry,” I shake my head.

“No,” he shrugs. “It’s cool. It’s cool you’re here actually.”

“Okay,” is all I can say. Until the awkward silence stretches. “So…Liliya?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Liliya. You?”

I want to lie, but I shake my head. “No. Sorta needed the year to breathe a little.”

“Fair. How’s America?”

“Oh y’know, still super-sized and politically a guessing game.”

“Have you turned on our news while you’ve been down at all?” He raises a brow. I laugh because he was right. It was all a shitshow everywhere.

He asks me about my family as Josie jogs up to us.

“Okay, tell me the truth is my hair going flat?”

“No,” I look behind her where her friends are hovering over Lily and the camera going over their photos.

“Good. Where’s mum and dad?” Josie asks Gray. “Dad was just here 10 minutes ago he said he’d come by for—oh there’s mum! Look!”

We turn to where she points. Michelle—what I’ve always called Gray’s mom, spots her daughter at the same time and waves. She starts to walk towards us.

It’s nice to see her but I also feel a bit nervous; going cold turkey on relationships you only had because of an ex are always weird to come back to. Especially ones you were fond of.

“Mum! You’re missing all the pictures!” Josie says. “Where’ve you been!?”

“I just saw somebody I knew back from my first job as a librarian can you believe that?” Michelle says as she joins the group.

“Crazy. Well mum look who got to show up today! Isn’t that crazy too?”

Michelle looks at me and the bright smile that was intended for her daughter dies like a flower in overnight frost. The look wipes the anticipation off my face.

“Who?”

That one word shades the sun from the sky and brings forth a gust of western winds through the group.

“Mum,” Josie look between me, her mum, and Gray. She’s confused. “Y/N?”

“Hey Michelle,” I croak. Maybe my hair was too different for her to recognize me, or maybe she had early onset alzheimers. Surely this woman who I’ve had a better relationship with than her own son has wouldn’t be treating me like your worst frenemy at your high school reunion.

But Michelle looks right through me. I can’t explain how it feels, not in the moment. I’m gutted, and feel an unexplainable wave of sadness.

“Mum…” Josie sounds hurt and Gray finally decides to swoop in.

“Mum let’s check out the photos we took already. We gotta get some of the three of us.”

They walk away and I feel seven inches tall but I turn to Josie with a brave face and face her teary one.

“That was kind of awkward,” I downplay.

“Y/N I’m honestly so sorry I-,” Josie blinks rapidly.

“No it’s ok!”

“I don’t know why she acted like that-“

“Hey It’s natural for her to feel that way I’m alright don’t get upset-“

“It’s not alright though! That was such a…she never acts like that.”

It was true. Michelle was a free-spirit as she called herself. That’s why Gray had such a hard relationship with her; in his words, she was too emotional and ungrounded for him.

Yet apparently, she was able to find enough ground to stand on when it came to treating me like a nobody. I wonder if it’s because she heard Gray’s biased side of the story or she was hurt herself—still, the way she’s always talked about herself never struck me as someone who would believe a one-sided story. Or be a bitch to someone they previously called their daughter. It hurt like a mofo.

I didn’t want Josie to find out this way, here of all places, that her mom was just human after all. She idolized that woman.

So even though it hurt, I comfort her instead.

“She probably just feels betrayed by me leaving and stuff since we were close too. Imagine if Jax broke up with you and she gave him the cold shoulder—wouldn’t you feel justified?”

Josie scrunches her brows to think about the simplified story I’ve just fed her to feel better. I can tell it still doesn’t sit well with her but she nods in acceptance, “I guess.”

“Yeah, just forget it Josie. Plus you’ve got pictures to take so dry those eyes.”

“Shit I know,” she blinks some more. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to invite you here and twist the knife at every bloody turn.”

“Jo I’m honoured to get to be here and see all your hard work pay off. Don’t worry about anything else.”

“It’s unfair,” she says before she drifts to her group of friends. “I feel like nobody understands how…how understanding you are. But I’m really glad we’re still in touch. And you came for me.”

Her words bring tears to my eyes and I nod, afraid that talking would bring them forward. I watch her crash her group and start instructing photo coordination. I help hold things for people while they take photos and feel like a stranger outside the crowd. If it weren’t for Josie, I think I would have regretted coming here. I feel homesick and unwanted. A tough combo.

I was supposed to crash on someone’s couch tonight and do brunch with Josie tomorrow before going back to London but from the last half hour alone I know I’m going back to the city no matter how late it gets tonight. I think of the hotel room that was home right now, of how lonely that was going to feel to go back to too.

Home right now was in America, in the same time zone as my family, and comfortable in my shared apartment with one of my high school best friends who I reconnected with after going back home. I miss it so bad. And I feel like I’ve bitten into an unripe fruit coming back to the UK before I was ready apparently. My experience feels soured.

I shake off the doom and gloom when the party breaks. We were all going to meet at the restaurant at 6–my plan was to explore the university city and find a place to kill some time in. Maybe go outside to a park with lunch. Josie tries to convince me to join her and her friends for their mid-day celebration but I lie and tell her I had some work to do.

I call Winnie on my stroll through the city. I insist she update me on last night first, and she has more to tell—the guy had a yacht and he was inviting her to a party tonight. She tells me to join if I came back early and we cross our fingers that Oretta wouldn’t need her before then.

I originally called her to rant about Michelle and Gray but I don’t, I didn’t want to kill her vibe. So I scroll through my other contacts but don’t want to worry my mom and it was too early back home to reach anyone else.

My eyes catch on Harry’s name, he was at the top of my texts currently because he sent me a link this afternoon asking me for thoughts on it. I hadn’t opened it yet, I wasn’t sure what to think about this new persona he was wearing or that he thought yesterday’s run-in went okay enough to casually message me for my thoughts.

I remember the weird electricity of yesterday and shove my phone back into my pocket.

He genuinely wanted to have a drink? And talk??

I did enjoy having you around. You were excellent at your job and you are missed.

Was he trying to make up for his cruel words? But he also seemed a lot more mellow than before. Maybe that was just because I didn’t work for him. What did he want? And was I twisted for believing the new schtick?

Most curious of all was him at the pub in the first place. He was not a local there—that was a big lie.

I try to conjure up my previous hatred, calling him the Devil in my head. But it’s harder to do. Seeing him yesterday, he was just a man standing in front of a woman with a head full of cautionary tales and bad experiences.

Without warning images from that night come back and I feel my heart flutter. I shut them down just as quick. Not all bad, my body tries to remind me. I tell it to shut up.

I’ve barely stepped foot in this country again and already my mind was running circles around my heart. How exhausting.

***

I’m early to the restaurant, before anyone else apparently. As the hostess finds my name on her floor plan Josie comes in behind me with Jax.

“Oh! Y/n you’re early!” She seems flustered.

“Yeah I didn’t think I would be,” it was only a few minutes to 6.

We make small talk while we’re led to the table, Josie’s eyes keep darting to where our table might be.

“Sorry I was hoping to do this before you came,” she says when we get there. There are name cards along the 7 seats and she picks the one in front of me. “I’m just gonna move mum to my other side so it doesn’t get weird. Which means she’ll be closer to dad but…I think he’s bailing since his girlfriend doesn’t want to do this.”

Josie shrugs, I know how she feels about her dad’s girlfriend. She begins explaining the plans she has to do dinner with her dad later this week and the more she talks the more I can tell that she feels awkward. And I hate that it’s because of me. At one point Jax and I catch eyes and pass an awkward smile.

“Josefina Duran,” I walk up to her fiddling with the name tags. She stops talking immediately. I grip her shoulders. “Thanks.”

“Sorry,” she whispers. I wrap my arms around her and she melts into me.

“Stop apologizing.”

“Sorry. I can’t help it. It’s a disease.”

We let go with a laugh and she seems more stable. “This is going to be fine.”

Famous last words.

It’s definitely not fine and very awkward. Jax ends up sitting in front of me, and even though Liliya’s name tag was beside mine it’s suddenly swapped as they slide in and Gray sits beside me. I guess it might be too awkward for her but not awkward enough to fit someone we both dated between us.

I can sense Michelle’s pinched face as she notices us sitting beside each other and I feel badly for Josie the most as she tries to play the gracious host. At one point I sense Jax laying a hand on her arm and taking over, asking Michelle questions about her yoga and getting her talking.

“Did you need more?” Gray turns to me with the wine bottle, it’s the second thing he’s said to me tonight. Otherwise he mostly just watches me talk and leans back enough when others are talking so I can be involved.

“I’m okay,” I whisper. I didn’t want to draw any attention while Michelle was talking. She hadn’t said a peep to me, even when Josie tried to involve us both in a shared memory. She continued acting like I was Casper the ghost.

I can feel Lily’s eyes on us as Gray offers wine, of course they would be. No wonder Gray barely spoke to me all night. Fuck me, what was I doing here.

Jax is a sweetheart, asking me about my job and encouraging conversation between the both of us. I’m so happy for Josie that she found a partner like him.

By the time dinner is over I mostly want to cry. I feel spent. But I also feel like I crashed an intimate dinner and everyone’s polite enough not to mention it. Despite Josie, I do actually regret coming.

As we pay the bill and shuffle out, Josie grabs my arm.

“So I have two friends where you can crash at their place or Jax can sleep over at mine and you can sleep at his or-“

“I think I’m gonna head back to the city.”

Her face falls. But it’s like she knew I was going to say that.

“Sorry Jo. I think you should come to the city next week—maybe visit your brother? And while you’re down we’ll do brunch then. I’m mostly free while I’m here. I’m just pretty tired and have to help Winnie with something tomorrow.”

“Really?” She says in the smallest voice I’ve heard out of her. Salt to my wounds.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I know we were looking forward to getting time together.”

She juts out her lip and I’m reminded of the girl I met when I first started dating Gray. How she’d taken to me so quickly. How the whole family had. How things could end up like this.

And suddenly I see the future laid out in front of me. After tonight it would be hard to keep this relationship going—Josie and I. She’s just seen her mom be an unreasonable bitch for the first time, I can tell she’s been trying to compensate all night but the cracks won’t go away. It’ll always be a sitting duck between us.

We might try to stay in touch, maybe I’d reach out if I was ever in London or if she ever visited the west coast. But this would fizzle out.

She was still young and naive enough that her mom hung the moon and stars; mom’s beliefs were gospel, her opinions were rulings, and she’d just delivered my ultimate sentence: I was a black sheep to the family. How could sweet Josie walk through a mess like that?

“I’m so proud of you,” I tell her as I fight tears. “Congratulations again and thank you for inviting me.”

“Thanks. And you don’t have to be so nice. I know it was kind of a shitty invite.”

“No,” I insist. “I loved being here. I don’t regret showing up for you. I can’t wait to hear what you get up to.”

“I’m going to make sure to make it to the city next week,” she squeezes my arm. “We’ll see each other soon.”

“Exactly,” I look over at the rest of the group, where her boyfriend waits for her. Her family. “And I really like Jax, so good on you for that.”

“He…” she twists her lips, swallowing what she was going to say before vomiting it out. “I always aspired to have a relationship like yours and Gray’s. I never wanted to settle for anything less so that’s…that’s why Jax.”

“Hm I think you made us the bar and you leapt over it babe,” I wrap my arms around her again. I ache with the loss of what we used to be.

“See you soon,” she says before she drags herself back to the group.

I stand off to the side, awkwardly ordering an Uber. The group begins to walk the opposite way waving bye to me. I breathe easier without the weight of them around.

As I tap my foot in anticipation of the ride to the station arriving, I feel a hand tap my shoulder.

“Y/n,” it’s Gray. “Hey I…I just wanted to say something before you left.”

“Oh. Hey yeah. Shoot.”

What was it with everyone wanting to say something to me.

“Uh…ok give me a minute,” he laughs in the way I know to mean he was feeling nervous. “I just sort of jogged back impulsively.”

“Yeah well you have,” I glance at my phone. “4 or so minutes.”

“Damn,” he ruffles his hair. “Alright. I think I just wanna say sorry.”

“Oh.” That was it. Everyone had something to say to me and the something was apparently sorry.

“Yeah I’m sorry. I…when we broke up I was so upset and caught up in my own head. I blamed you for everything. I think it only hit me when you just up and moved out of the country how things actually went down.”

I hadn’t told anyone but Josie that I was leaving.

“Yeah you were just like gone.” He continues. “I guess a part of me thought we’d get some space, maybe circle back later…”

“You really betrayed me,” I remind him.

But even I know what he means. He hurt me bad and it might be crazy stupid but on some level we were both aware we were in an ugly place and maybe with some space we might come back to the place that was good for us again. Maybe bump into each other one day, strike up a conversation, find there might still be a small amount of love left. Enough to water and grow again.

“I know,” he sighs. “I know. I hate that I hurt you like that. I regret…I actually don’t really hang out with that group of friends as much anymore. I sorta have myself to blame but I didn’t like who I was with them.”

I listen, letting him speak. It hurt too, knowing this was the Grayson I had fallen in love with. Kind and supportive, and now apparently he’s learned to communicate. Maybe that was a Lily thing.

“I guess,” he blows the air out of his cheeks. “I want to say I’m really truly sorry. I missed you a lot after you left. Nothing was the same and life was fucking hard. I wish things didn’t end the way they did and I stayed mature but I was just jealous and angry.”

I nod to acknowledge what he’s saying and watch him take a breath to continue.

“And I always appreciated how you never let us shake your relationship with my sister because she bloody loves you—I don’t think how mum treated you was right today but I never really understood her in the first place. I’m sorry about that.”

“Yeah,” is all I can manage without making it obvious how emotional this was all making me. How one year could make me feel like a completely different person. How this man I loved, and still love in some way, could stand in front of me talking about us as something in the past. Because we were. Long past.

My phone dings with a notification that my ride would be here. We glance down and out into the street.

“Anyway,” he swallows. “I just wanna apologize. And say I genuinely hope you find love y/n. Love that’s as fierce and loyal as you are. I hope you can forgive me one day. And I hope you’re successful as hell in whatever you pour yourself into.”

“Thank you Gray,” I want to say I was sorry too. For what it was worth. But my car pulls to the curb.

I wave at the driver to let them know I’d ordered it and we walk the few feet to the back door.

I face Gray and open my mouth to say it. Say something more: how I appreciated his words, how I was sorry for how things ended too, how I hope he is happy. But nothing comes out of my mouth. I just stare at him, my eyes welling with tears instead.

Gray holds out his hand and I look down at it. I knew those hands well and it’s like walking into a place you used to frequent in the past and have memories rush towards you as you remember: those hands held me and wrapped around my own and comforted me, they made me food and stroked my hair, and carried my bags when they got too heavy. They once wore an engagement band I gifted, they once held a small box with a life-changing question I had said yes to.

Now it was just a hand.

I clasp it and he squeezes.

“I know,” he says, his eyes trained on my watery ones. He squeezes again and lets go.

I rush into the car, those two words nearly cracking me in half. I wave goodbye through the tinted window and feel a wave of despair that pulls me down into the depths of darkness.

Too much was happening at once.

My emotions spiral out of me and I feel alone in this foreign country; I needed comfort where none could be found.

I don’t mean to. Or maybe I do. But on the train back to London I text Harry: is it too early to cash in on the drink?

His response is immediate: no, I was waiting for this text last night

I smile, despite myself.

Can I come over? I text with shaking hands.

H: For drinks?

Y: For drinks

H: Ofc.

***

The taxi drops me in front of the familiar building. I feel an echo of anxiety pierce through me as I go through the familiar doors. I nod at the concierge, the night replacement was new and I’m grateful nobody can recognize me making this potentially stupid decision.

For a brief second I wonder if Harry had other plans tonight but decide not to overthink it. He’d invited me openly. And maybe I was making a decision based on sadness and loneliness and grief and needing to be wanted but I make it. And I would make it like a grown woman—ready to accept the consequences.

I didn’t want to go back to my lonely hotel room. I didn’t want to call anyone and talk about what just happened. I didn’t have words. My body was taking the beating, feeling everything under the sun and now bruised and battered for it. I just wanted my body to forget that. And there was only one person in this godforsaken city that could help.

I’m let up to the penthouse and I forgot it had a distinct smell, wood-like and something indescribable. Weird that it felt comforting.

“You made it,” Harry comes into view in a simple pair of shorts and a long-sleeved white tee pushed up to his elbows. It’s the sleeves that really do it.

“I did.”

I leave my bags beside the elevator next to the umbrella stand, keeping my eyes on him. He doesn’t take his off mine either. I’m glad he doesn’t. Now I know he knows we both said drinks but meant something more.

He reaches out for me before I even get to him, and I know I would think about that later. A lot. But right then in the middle of his entryway I wrap my arms around his neck and lean up on my toes to reach him too.

His lips are soft against mine and he tucks me into him, his hand splayed out on my lower back. It feels like a return to a lover, someone who knows you, like I would’ve thought seeing Gray again would feel. But it’s just Harry, and the thought of baseless familiarity freaks me out a little.

The next time I feel his lips they’re on my jaw and neck and down to the base of my throat. He murmurs my name as he makes his way down and my body reacts immediately. He takes me by the waist and backs me up against the nearest wall, and I have a feeling I might fall.

I had made the conscious decision to walk into the devil’s lair because it was the only place I could get what I needed.

My fingers dig into his shoulders. My body wants this. Every part of me wants to pull him close and hold him and never let go. I wanted all of it tonight.

But I am so tired.

I put a hand on his chest and press gently. I can feel the warmth of his skin, the firmness of his muscles and the beat of his heart as he pauses.

“Sorry, I should have started with a hello. That was too fast was it?” He whispers, looking me straight in the eyes.

I have a million answers, but nothing comes. He puts his hand over mine and I feel it as a shiver runs up my spine.

"Is this too fast?" he asks again, and I hear the worry in his voice.

I shake my head.

He gives a breathy laugh, "Then tell me."

"I think I-“

“Don’t,” he covers my mouth with a laugh. “Please please. Don’t think.”

I smile under his palm and he drops his hand, I can tell he’s proud of lightening the moment by the sheen in his eyes. The moment is tender in a way that takes me back.

He brushes back my hair and kisses my forehead. I close my eyes, breathing in his cologne.

“That’s not where I want to be kissed,” I tell him.

“Then where?” He plays along.

“Anywhere but there.”

He kisses my nose. “There?”

“Not there,” I open my eyes to look up at him. “I’ll have you know that was very snotty just an hour ago.”

He groans, “you really have a way of taking the desire out of a situation.”

But his brows furrow and he watches me even closer.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I respond to his unasked question.

With that statement he takes a painful step back and I nearly slide down the wall without his support.

“What?” I ask.

“We should take that drink first.”

I feel the loss of his body pressed against mine, I realize miserably.

“What do you mean? I thought the drinks were just an excuse?” I ask.

He laughs a little, “Maybe tonight, but I really did want to have a drink with you. And talk.”

“Harry,” I groan. “I’m all out of talking tonight. Truly.”

“As much as I want to say forget talking and take you to bed I need to do this…just follow me,” he leads me and my flushed body through to the main living area which I was well familiar with but it’d gotten a facelift. I make commentary on the changes and he tells me more about it as he pulls a wine he wants out for us.

“I changed things around a little after you left,” he says as he hands me the wine glass. “I needed it. The change.”

“Oh.” Is all I can muster. I follow him to the sofa, tonight he doesn’t leave as much space between us but it still feels like a weird parallel to the night I landed in the hospital; a confrontation with Gray leading me to wine with Harry. “Look Harry I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Why not?”

“I…I’m at minimal capacity right now I just-“

“Just let me talk then.”

“Why does everyone want to talk!”

“I need to tell you what I should have said a long time ago and I want to apologize-“

“You already did-“

“Properly.”

I cross my arms and sigh.

“Y/n bloody hell I forgot how quickly you can get under my skin.”

“So this isn’t a great thing then.”

“Y/N,” he says my name like a warning and I want to comply. I roll my eyes and knock back my glass of wine, the buzz from the glass at dinner has long since worn away.

“Part of me wants to top you up but another part remembers what happened last time.” Harry eyes me.

“No I’m okay with just one glass. Drinking when I’m upset doesn’t end well.”

“Yeah…I don’t want you concussed on my watch again.”

“No we don’t want that,” we smile at each other, a soft and sentimental smile that gets the anxious stuttering of my heart to calm down a little. He just wanted to talk, so what?

But the anxious voice runs through the scenarios he might want to—his recent text, or something I did as his PA he wants to take up now. Gah.

“I really have missed having you around,” he says softly.

“Didn’t feel like you would with how you treated me.” I raise my brow.

“I know.” He pauses then mumbles something before talking to me directly. “You must have heard about the PA before you? Maybe from Riley?”

“Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“Hmmm this feels like a trick question.” I say but he tells me he just wants to know what I knew. So I rip the bandaid off. “You had a fling with her.”

He hangs his head back over the seat of the sofa and sighs. “I knew that piece of…Riley makes me really mad when I think about him sometimes.”

“Does he?” I raise my brow. “I can think of someone else who makes me madder.”

“I know that’s supposed to be me. And I don’t know what to do about that except come clean right now.”

“And why is that?” I ask. “Coming clean? I came here just to get distracted in bed with you. I never thought I’d live to see the day where a guy like you wants to talk instead.”

“Y/N,” he says with such an intense look my way my stomach flips. “Trust me. I want to have you in my bed more than you do. But I told myself if that day ever somehow happened it would be after this.”

I shrug, let him continue. In reality his words make me weak and I can’t speak. Which kind of annoys me—why did he have such a strong pull over me? How did he so easily admit he’s thought about me, about having me in his bed!?

My heart flutters amongst other things.

I remember a brief conversation I had with my mom last year when she asked me why I wasn’t putting myself out there and dating again and I told her I just didn’t have the heart for it. She had said it seems I left my heart in London—my passion and my heart. Sitting here with Harry stirs something inside of me, scares me, and I want to distract that with more wine. But I manage to control myself.

“I was fairly new to the industry when I hired Riley and it was his second proper job or something so we were both a bit young and we ended up being friendlier than we should have.” Harry starts. “But he was great at his job and never gave me any issues. I stayed naïve that people in this industry would look out for my best interest-“

“That’s really naïve,” I can’t help but comment but he throws me a look and I zip my lips. “Sorry.”

“I was lucky that the first few relationships I built as I got my foot in the door were genuine but I realized too late that it wasn’t a norm. Everyone wanted a piece of me and they all wanted me to be someone else. Some angle. Shit hit the fan pretty quickly. So when I needed more help I decided to create a new role for Riley and hire a PA. She was seasoned and came highly recommended.”

I nod along to his story.

“Long story short, she started out good but she kept trying to get me alone and get me talking. And back then after being friends with my old PA I didn’t have the wisdom of setting boundaries—don’t give me that look.”

“What!” I raise my hands. “I’m just listening.”

“You’re judging me.”

“Just continue,” I encourage. I was judging a little.

“Anyway, where I thought we were just friendly she thought I—I dunno I was falling for her or something. And one night she was working late so she had dinner here. She kept refilling my drink I didn’t realize she wasn’t drinking as much. It’s not much of an excuse but by the time she came onto me I was pissed and it didn’t take much.”

He continues the story like it was nothing but his voice catches a little and he doesn’t look me in the eye. My insides grow colder. I want to reach inside of him and hold the old Harry, the naive one who didn’t know better.

“Please don’t feel bad for me,” he cuts my sympathy short. “I didn’t turn into a great person after that. Especially with how I treated you.”

“That’s right.” I pretend to be unaffected by his story like he wanted me to be. But it’s near impossible.

“So that’s how I decided it was best for me to play the asshole. I couldn’t fire her after that—it would look awful and she could report me and screw me over. But I could make working for me a nightmare and so I did. A few months later she quit.”

He sighs and takes a swig of his wine, “Then you came along and I thought ‘I should play the asshole from the get go.’ I had gotten good by then at compartmentalizing my personality in the industry.”

“Hmph,” I raise a brow. He has the decency to look embarrassed but he continues.

“But the more time we spent together the worse I felt. You were nothing like the previous PA. You were genuine and down-to-earth. Pretty fiery but I wouldn’t find that out until later,” he grins. I roll my eyes. “I tried to ease up a little but things kept happening to push me back into the asshole box.”

“But you were so snappy, and a dick.”

“I know. I didn’t know how to tell you you worked too hard without dropping the asshole act and making you feel even shittier.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had to be the villain in your story-“

“What?” What was he talking about?

“Yeah like, you were working all the time even though there were some times I told you to wrap it up for the day.”

I remembered that, thinking he was kicking me out.

“But you took the job so seriously. I appreciated everything you did but you were dogged at making sure you did the best at any cost.”

“What do you mean? At any cost?” I ask, a cold sensation running down my back.

“For example take that one time a few months in when I asked you to call me because you forgot to order wine. You bloody came all the way back to hand deliver it-“

“Yeah because you said to call you and you were gonna be pissed if I-“

“No, y/n,” he lays a hand between us. “I just wanted you to call to know where you usually ordered from so I could order that for myself. You weren’t in any trouble! But I could only blame myself for playing the hard asshole too well.”

I think about that night, Josie’s birthday party. How I left early and upset Gray. How I didn’t need to but I had been following the Dos and Dont’s list.

Shit, the lists. They were added onto by the last PA who, now I know, was having her life made into hell just so she would quit. Some of those lists were on an extreme I didn’t even have to follow. Fuck. That was on me.

My face must be a painting of regret because Harry apologizes again.

“I’m sorry but I didn’t want you to…I just felt like I had to play the villain so you could do what you had to do. So you could continue hating me and we could establish the clear boundary.”

“Right.” I have a bitter taste in my mouth.

“But I genuinely liked you, I thought you were funny and sensitive-“

“You don’t like my sensitivity.”

“I do. I just hated how angry you were-“

“Because of you.”

“I know. I created a monster, I’m Frankenstein.”

“Damn straight.” I agree and we pause a beat before laughing.

“Anyway,” he continues. “You were funny and sensitive and resilient, passionate and smart, and you cared so deeply. It was rare meeting people like you in this field. I wanted to wrap you in bubble wrap but I think I shattered you instead. I’m sorry for the way I just let my past colour your time here. I feel like you left because of me-“

“It was really a lot of reasons.”

“I know but I was part of that and I felt no good. After you left I was a miserable son of a bitch for a while. I couldn’t even enjoy my holiday because I kept thinking of you. I was miserable so I barely even said goodbye—I didn’t realize you were going to run away so far. But I also didn’t want to say goodbye because I was scared I would convince you to stay by spilling my truth.”

His words sit on my chest and they slowly sink down to my stomach. I don’t know what it meant, what he wanted me to do with this confession. It’s too much.

“Mostly,” he continues, shifting closer to me on the sofa. He lowers his voice, “Mostly I’m sorry about Barcelona.”

I flush at the mention of it. At the heat and passion from that night. His eyes roam my face.

“I’m not that guy. I should have treated you nicer, should have been the one to keep my patience.”

“I didn’t make it easy,” I admit.

“No,” he chuckles. “You really fucking did not.”

We smile.

“But you’re so much more than anger y/n. I could barely sleep that night, I kept regretting giving into the anger and not being slow and soft with you the way you deserve. I regret it all the time.”

His confession pulls the veil off my eyes and I see a sharper image of my past. Of everything. It all comes at once and I can’t sort through it in the moment but I know what I want to do.

I shuffle over until I’m up against Harry, I hold his face in mine and he cups my face in his hand.

“You drove me crazy,” I tell him. “Made my life hell.”

“I know. But you drove me crazy too. Nobody got under my skin like you did.”

“Same.”

His hand snakes down to my thigh and he nudges it over his lap so that I’m straddling his body. I feel vulnerable and scared—not the first time these emotions have coursed through me in this very room. But today I don’t feel powerless.

His lips are soft against my cheek, my jaw, down my neck. Unlike the first time he’s slow and deliberate like someone who’s waited so long to unwrap a cherished gift and can’t stand ripping even the gift wrap. He pushes my hair out of the way and trails his fingertips down the back of my neck.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispers in my ear. The more he talked the more nervous he was making me. I turn my head to capture his lips, run my fingers through his hair which is too short to really grasp. I missed his old hair.

We break apart for a breath and I can feel the tension. The desire to have him near clashing with the need to go slow. To savour this. Somehow we both feel it.

“We don’t have to do anything tonight,” Harry promises me, his finger trailing down my arm. “Just having you here is enough.”

Oh god. How did he know just the things to say. This man was way too suave. He really was the devil.

But I needed him. It’s scary to admit but I did. I wanted to be here, I really did. I needed to be in this moment with him. Fulfill some shut-out desire that had grown dusty in the corner of my heart.

“I want to do this.”

With a gentle kiss he gets us up and takes my hand. I feel myself being pulled through the living room and towards the bedroom. The sheets are cool, but not cold and when he crawls in beside me I forget that I had ever been anywhere else.

He’s attentive and deliberate and I’m buzzing with anticipation. I decide to pick up the pace, propping myself up to take off my blouse. I watch his throat bob up and down like he’s never seen me like this before even though he has. It’s endearing.

The way his hands fit in the curve of my waist makes it harder to breathe. He moves his hands up my torso and to the straps of my bra. He pauses, as if asking permission, and when I nod, he kisses me. He unhooks it and slowly slides it off my shoulders, eyes fixed on mine.

The intensity of his gaze is overwhelming.

I pull him close to kiss him again, and he pulls me under him so I can feel the full weight of him against me. This is what I needed. To be physically present and not stuck in the after tremors of the earthquakes of my past. Not that he wasn’t part of my past but this is different. A non-verbal agreement to just be present. I knew his ways with women, it could be a one-night thing and that’s what I needed.

But that’s why the moments of tenderness and adoration nearly take my breath away. I don’t know where to put these things.

He kisses down my shoulder while his hand trails down to my trousers. He hooks his finger into the belt loop and tugs gently, looking up at me for consent.

I nod.

He slowly takes them off, and when his fingers brush against my bare legs, my breath hitches.

It happens again when he presses his lips against my hip bone.

He stops for a moment, and I can almost see the cogs in his brain whirring.

He moves up to press his forehead against mine.

"I don't know how to do this right," he says quietly, and his eyes search mine.

“What do you mean?”

“This is always how I should have treated you,” he whispers. “I want you to know-“

“Harry,” I smooth out the lines on his forehead.

"No," he grabs my hand and kisses it. "I don't want you to feel like I don't care because I do. I don’t want to hurt you. I'm not good at saying these things. But I want you to know how much I value you. That I like you as a person. I respect you. I want you to be okay.”

“I-“ who was this Harry, seriously!? “I get it. I’m okay. I am.”

He smiles at me tentatively and my heart does a somersault.

I grab the back of his neck and pull him down, pressing my lips against his. I could taste the sweetness of the words he had said.

I tug at his shirt and it flies into the darkness of his bedroom. His skin is heated against mine.

It feels like an eternity before he finally reaches the band of my panties, and my heart thumps wildly.

"May I?" he looks up.

"Please," I whisper.

For the first time since I’ve met him he doesn’t make it about himself or what he needs. It’s almost intimidating how intense he is as he looks after me and it’s hard to reconcile this man with the man in my head. We’re of one mind and it’s like he knows everything I’ve been through in the last 24 hours; he just attends to my every need reminding me that I was here, right here, in his arms and in this body.

And it doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Are you staying the night?” He asks later with a final kiss to my shoulder.

“If that’s alright?” I ask. I didn’t want to be alone in a cold hotel room.

“I’d love nothing more.” He says earnestly.

Love. I brush the word away.

He warns me that he was a slug if I stayed and he’s not exaggerating, with his arm draped over me and tucked up against him he’s like a child with a plush. He falls asleep just as quickly.

I should too but can’t. I feel so intensely about this body laying beside me, I want to crawl inside of him, understand him, understand us and how this worked.

Or maybe I wanted to just understand me, and why I felt a piece of myself sliding back into place tonight. I had to be the most fucked up person in this city.

Instead of sleeping I lay awake thinking about everything and I can’t help it. I go over this morning—god it felt like weeks ago. Josie’s graduation. Josie. Gray. Even Michelle.

I feel slightly paralyzed by everything that transpired today—it truly felt like peering through a glass window into a life I used to have. I try to break open the glass, sort it all out.

On one side is me and everything I’ve done this whole year to move on from the crumbs of my life here in London. I don’t know why but I really did think that coming back I would be 100% untouchable by my past. I was an idiot for thinking that because I was bothered that Gray seemed to have a steady girlfriend. Why did I think anything would rekindle between us?

I dig deeper, did I even want that to happen? Or did I just want to prove to myself that I was the one Gray let get away because I was too scared to face the possibility that I was the one who let Gray get away.

But clearly something didn’t work with us, I think bitterly. A few months with his new girl and he found the balls to open up with me and communicate his grievances and his apologies.

Love that’s as fierce and loyal as you are, he had said. Was I too much for Gray? Is that why we were made to burn out? It hurt too that he had damaged all my relationships I made in my life here in London only to cut those same people out of his life immediately after I left. The more I think about it the angrier I feel.

And his mom, I still feel bruised by her acting like she didn’t even know me. It stokes the anger higher. Her own son has called her crazy on multiple occasions, I was always nothing but kind to her. Gray was the one who put the final nail in our coffin yet the woman who called me her daughter and claimed to love me had been cruel. Even in the face of getting along for Josie’s sake she had put her petty feelings in the forefront.

These people made me so angry.

How did I ever think I could rekindle anything with Gray? As much as I was to blame, I realize, Gray couldn’t even be kind in the end. Just because the year apart was good to him didn’t mean he would still be good for me.

I think about the man laying beside me, in a hypothetical situation if things got ugly I instinctively want to say he would be cruel too. But I have to push past the persona he claimed to have put up and think about the glimpses of the man I saw underneath. Something tells me he would be just as fiery in letting me know how he was feeling. But with his recent apologies I’m not as convinced he would go out of his way to hurt me again.

Even in the bar last night, I just assumed he called me Mrs. Duran to be cruel but he hadn’t known. Or when I had assumed at Josie’s birthday party I would be fired for forgetting wine because he was an asshole when really he just acted like one so I wouldn’t feel worse.

How many times had I judged people because of how skewed my own lens was? It’s a sobering reminder.

Josie’s face flashes through my mind and I tear up at knowing we were going to cut each other out. No matter how much we loved each other staying in touch at this rate was no longer sustainable. For her best interest.

I think of my younger brother back home, my older sister, our family of 5. When I went back home there was so much to catch up on and eventually, apologize for. I had missed out on so much of my family’s life because I believed I needed to leave to grow. Well, life sure handed me a lot of lessons but I needed to go back home to plant them and let me grow.

Harry stirs beside me, nuzzling my neck in his sleep. I feel myself go teary eyed for no reason.

I wondered if this was just a one-night thing. If we would see each other again while I was in London. Did I want to see him? My heart sings yes immediately.

Damn.

What was it about him that pushed my emotions to the highest highs and lowest lows. How did he know every button to push and every bruise to kiss. This had to be toxic, we couldn’t just take our great big baggage of a past and see each other casually while I was in London. It couldn’t be that easy.

What if it was, hope whispers. I squirm. Could I forgive Harry for everything he’d done?

“Y’sleeping?” Harry mumbles to my left. Shit.

“Yeah,” I say which invokes a throaty chuckle from him. I check the time, it was nearly 4. Double shit.

“Liar,” he tugs on my hips and I turn to face him. “Talk to me.”

I couldn’t. Half of my thought were about him. And how could I tell him I was thinking about my ex after spending the night with him. So I just shake my head.

“Please?” He brushes my cheek with his thumb. “You need to sleep.”

“I-“ I try to say I can’t but the words get stuck in my throat. The emotions of everything I’d been thinking in the last couple hours threaten to dislodge the words from my throat so I close my mouth. But it doesn’t work.

A sob bursts out of me and before I can reel it all in the floodgates swing open and it carries all the pent-up sorrow and confusion, grief and anguish I had bottled up.

Harry freezes for a moment, probably very confused to wake up and have me reacting this way. But he recovers and pulls me into his warm chest.

“What is going on in that head of yours love,” Harry murmurs. Love. I sob even harder.

He murmurs reassuring words whilst stroking my back and I cry an embarrassing amount in the same bed where just hours ago I was blissed beyond comprehension. Life moves fast.

Finally when I gain enough composure I lean away, covering my face because crying into him was one thing but seeing my ugly cry face was another.

“Here,” I feel his body move and then tissues pressed into my hand. I’m grateful for them but I wasn’t going to blow my nose here. I sit up and try to dry my nose. His hand reaches out and the tips of his fingers rest on my spine like he was tethering my lost body to him. Somehow even that is reassuring.

“Don’t go trying to kiss my nose this early on again,” I try to joke through a stuffy voice.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he tugs my arm a little and I fall back beside him. He holds me in both his arms and I watch in horror and affection as he kisses the tip of my nose.

“Stop being so nice,” I laugh and cry a little too.

“You’re actually complaining about me being nice?”

“No I just—I’m not used to it,” I press the tissue to my eyes again.

“Well get used to it,” he peels the hair off of my face and pushes it back. “I don’t want to be the one hurting you. I swear to never ever be the reason you cry like this to anyone.”

“Don’t say those sorts of things if you don’t mean it.”

“I do,” he caresses my face. “You’re breaking my heart y/n, I don’t know who hurt you but I never want to see you like this. Especially not because of me alright? I’m sorry if I ever-“

“Stop,” I put my hand to his mouth. Which is kind of gross since I just blew my nose but I’m pretty sure him kissing my snotty nose means he didn’t care.

“But-“ he says behind my hand.

“I’m embarrassed right now,” I admit.

“You have seen me in every compromising situation,” Harry says. “And we have been through too much together to be embarrassed right now.”

“Fine,” I sigh. “It is tiring.”

“Maybe you can finally sleep now that it’s…almost 5?”

“Sorry,” I sigh. “I hope you don’t have something early?”

“Nope,” he kisses the top of my head. “And even if I did it wouldn’t matter.”

So we both try to go back to bed and I manage to fall asleep, all of those tiring racing thoughts washed away by a good cry. I feel warm and cared for and vulnerable and protected. A stark change from how Harry has made me feel before. Maybe this was temporary or maybe this was the start of something new. I’m just taking it minute by minute while all I can think is Do I or Don’t I?

***

It’s my final week in London and if you’d asked me a couple weeks ago if I was looking forward to going back home I would have said without hesitation yes.

But that night at Harry’s and putting my past to rest brushes away an old and tired film I had been viewing the city with since I landed.

We had seen each other a couple times a week since—I’ve been cautious despite my body saying otherwise. There were many days I had been free but I had made up some excuse not to see him, I was scared of getting too attached and having to leave.

But I can’t deny how nice it was to be with Harry without any labels. Most of the time I went over to his, it was tricky going out somewhere too public and risking getting papped. Together we just talk about life and work, my life back in America and my relationship with my family, his life growing up and his relationship with stardom. We watch movies and listen to music and make jokes and I open up a little about what had been weighing on my mind that night.

Winnie teases me that I was lighter than she’s ever seen me, that London looked good on me. I tell her she’s crazy. But even Oretta admits it when Winnie brings it up to her.

Harry makes the effort to make up for how he acted until it’s not just words. I believe what he was saying. And I admit to my faults too.

We still get under each other’s skin.

The thing we argue about the most is an opportunity Harry tries to get me to sign off on. The link he texted me when I was in Cambridge was an upcoming single one of his friends was releasing and he wanted to get me to bid on executing a music video for it. I tell him he was nuts and that I had no experience, plus I had a job. But he persists. He thinks I should explore putting my creative skills to use and not just my organizational skills. The arguing continues.

I have a date with him tonight, at the same bar we bumped into each other that first night. I have a question I’d been meaning to ask him.

“You aren’t actually a regular here are you?” I ask when we’ve settled.

“Of course I am,” he says but I know he’s lying. I raise my brow and he looks everywhere but at me. “Fine. I’m not.”

“So how the hell did you end up here that night?”

“Coincidence.”

“Liar.”

“I’m an honest man.”

“Truth please?”

“You’re embarrassing me here let’s move on.”

“Nuh-uh,” I’m enjoying his bright cheeks and darting eyes. “Did you stalk me or something?”

“I…I knew this was a local spot for you. Or was.”

“Really? How?”

“You mentioned it a few times? And I dropped you off here once after work.”

He might’ve. I’d met many friends and especially Gray here. I motion for him to continue.

“I might’ve known you were in town, might’ve found out you were here and…”

“So you did stalk me,” I gasp. “Oh my god ladies and gents he is obsessed.”

“That’s a strong word.” He argues.

“You. Stalked. Me.”

“Oh fine, I’ll confess: I’m used to the stalkers and I thought it was high time I did some stalking and see what the fun was all about,” he joins in on making fun of himself.

“Someone get me a restraining order,” I say just as someone approaches our table with drinks. As soon as they leave we burst out laughing.

“So have you given the music video any more thought?” Harry asks as the evening continues.

“Can we not talk about this right now?” I ask.

“I just think you should give it serious thought. I know you want to go into PR, be somebody’s Graham, but you have a really good eye for this thing. Before you pursue what you think you want, try this out.”

“You’re one dude,” I say again. “Who believes I can do this. You want me to throw away the career I’ve worked on for years to dabble in this and potentially waste time instead of getting to where I want?”

“Firstly, if you love doing something it’s not time wasted. And secondly you only ever need just one person to believe in you, angel.”

His fingers brush mine on the table, the familiar electricity courses through me just through the small touch. And of course, his use of pet names always turned me to putty. I hated how malleable he made me.

“Consider it. Just write a proposal y/n, it’s not betraying Oretta or anything. I can talk to her if you want if they choose your idea.”

It was scary putting myself out there for something I didn’t believe in myself for. But my echoes of burnout grow towards the idea of doing something less demanding than being an assistant just like a sunflower to the sun. It basks in letting my creativity flow.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Not for too long,” he taps my fingers again. We were cautious about being too touchy in public, even in a place like this where people genuinely didn’t care who he was. “Proposal’s due at the end of next week.”

When I would be back home in America. Away from here. Him.

We hadn’t talked about it, if we would try to keep in touch. I can’t really imagine a long-distance thing with Harry. Not at this stage. Mostly we enjoyed being in each other’s company and I was scared forcing labels just because we would be apart would ruin this fragile thing.

“Fine.” He’d worn me down and I submit. “Fine I’ll get something in for you.”

He pulls back with a shocked expression. “Did I just convince the stubborn y/n y/l/n to do something she didn’t want to do?”

I scowl. “Don’t get used to it.”

“I won’t,” he laughs, waving his hands around him like he was fanning in an aroma. “I’m soaking this in though.”

“Whatever,” I say with a smile.

“You make me work hard,” he smiles back. “For everything y/n. That’s one of the things I l-I-that I really like about you.”

We ignore the near slip of something far too serious for what we had going. We move past it but it sets my heart racing.

“So this friend of yours,” I change the subject. “With the music video. Didn’t you guys have like, beef when you were on tour? All that article stuff?”

“You of all people should know not to believe what you see online. It was all manipulated and put out of context.”

“I know but you were all moody for all your shows afterwards. I remember Jeff and Graham complaining. I assumed the articles had worn you down a bit.”

He raises a brow like he’s waiting on me to figure something out.

“What?”

“Really? You think it was the artcles?”

“Well what else happened that-“

Oh god. Was I that stupid?

Of course it wasn’t the articles, it was me! Us.

A smile stretches over the contours of his face as realization dawns on mine, “Twice in a row I’ve got you today, I should buy a lottery ticket.”

“I’m off my game today is all, don’t get used to it.”

I can’t believe it. Not that I didn’t believe Harry after the last few weeks but I—that night—really meant that much to him that his feelings over it had affected the rest of his tour? I had affected his tour?

“Why didn’t you say anything if it was weighing on you so much? If I recall I tried to talk to you a couple times.” I ask.

“What could I say,” he snorts. “You were engaged and my loss of control was why you cheated. Then you were quitting and I knew if I said anything you might have stayed. I didn’t want to keep you where you didn’t want to be.”

His words tug at my heart. He really had thought up a storm.

“Harry,” I lean back. “Gray and I broke up before I joined you guys on tour again. We weren’t cheating.”

His forehead creases, “What?! But you were together at my London show. I thought you two broke up after you moved back home?”

“No,” I guess in the last few weeks I’d just mentioned we broke up a long time ago. He didn’t know any specifics. “We were fake-together because he hadn’t broken the news to his sister then. But that’s why I was all…y’know in Barcelona-“

“Fuck me,” he groans. “No wonder you thought I was an ass for pulling you away-“

“Well you were-“

“Yeah alright-“

“Why did you really pull me away though?”

“I…I was feeling a bit possessive.”

“What?”

I wasn’t expecting that to come out of his mouth. He smiles sheepishly, “I thought we already came to terms with that.”

My stomach does a few somersaults. Until tonight I don’t think I’ve really focused on the magnitude of how Harry felt back then. Parts of my mind were still remembering him as a prick just because it was easier to remember my side of things. But this spins things in a brighter light.

“I was just your assistant though.”

“Y/N,” he tilts his head to the side. “Did I not already tell you what I thought about you that night in my flat?”

“Yeah but-“

“I’d never met anyone like you, I really liked you. I couldn’t have you though and I had to push you away constantly. And that drove me a bit crazy sometimes.”

I let out a noisy breath, wondering if how he felt about me was just as intense now as it was then. A part of me knows it must be. Feelings like that didn’t fade. But here I was, barely knowing what it was I felt for him. All I knew was that it was nice when we were together.

Why me, I want to ask. But I hold back. It wasn’t a question I could ask my ex-employer current-lover part-time-asshole.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “Was that a bit strong?”

“No,” I sigh again and he laughs. “Fine. A little. But it’s fine, I’m okay.”

“Okay,” he believes me. “So you broke off your engagement and didn’t tell anyone?”

“Kinda, we weren’t in a place we could come back from. We decided that mutually after things blew up. He didn’t even know I was leaving the country actually.”

Harry whistles. “You ran out on all of us.”

I scratch the side of my head, “Maybe?”

“Well I’ve enjoyed having you again, here.” He says with sincerity. “I’m really relieved to be able to get to say everything I wanted to your face.”

I agree. Neither of us mention I was leaving later in the week.

Even by the night before I’m leaving London we still hadn’t discussed a thing. But there’s a heaviness to us as we have dinner at his, as we pretend to watch a movie only to cuddle on the couch. We lay there facing each other and I trace his eyes, his nose, his wonderful mouth. It’s so odd to me that this was the same Harry Styles performing in sold out venues and on the walls of teenage bedrooms. That I got to have him in these quiet moments and be present.

I feel so grateful for this. That I didn’t have to carry around these draining stories within me anymore, that it felt like it happened to someone else. In a way even if nothing came from all this, I got closure. I was able to move on now.

I imagine my heart and it feels like when you take a stroll mid-March and realize nature was healing from winter’s blues. Warm and blooming the earth was growing again—my heart was growing stronger. Now the idea of a date or a partner didn’t seem so daunting and exhausting. I would never have guessed that it would take the man who almost broke me to come into my life again for me to see how to fit those pieces back in place again.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do not having you in town anymore,” his lashes flutter as I run my hand through his hair. It was still shorter than I was used to but it had grown in the last three weeks.

“Oh you’ll be fine,” I say. “I’ve worked on your schedule before: meetings and studio sessions and photoshoots and interviews.”

“A busy life isn’t always a full one,” he whispers. And it’s the closest thing to a confession we were going to get to. I cover his mouth with mine and we indulge in each other one final time.

There is a symphony of unexpected but undeniable intimacy woven between the beats of our entwined hearts. I know I would probably never feel this way with anyone and I don’t think I’d want to. Being with Harry was passion. It was losing myself and finding myself at the same time. It was being vulnerable and guarded and cherished and known.

My flight out tomorrow is around noon but I can’t stay the night as I’d have to help Oretta in the morning to make sure everything gets to the airport in time. Harry walks me down to his lobby and we stand there for a few, just holding each other tight. He doesn’t ask me to stay and I don’t ask him to come.

“This isn’t goodbye y/n,” Harry says when we part. His hand rests on his heart. I know the feeling, mine aches so hard I want to press my hand to it just to tell it everything would be fine.

“No,” I shake my head. My eyes had been teary ever since he squeezed me to him. “We’ll talk soon.”

“You’ll be directing music videos soon.”

I roll my eyes, “I’m still working on the proposal.”

“I have a good feeling about it.”

“That makes one of us. But…thanks for believing in me.”

“Thanks for believing in me,” he whispers. “Even when you didn’t have to.”

I’m glad I did. The only time in my life not paying attention to the warning bells had paid off.

“I’ve been working with this new producer and he wants me to come out to a studio in Cotati?” Harry mentions. “How far is that from where you are? Are you still in m Burbank?”

“Burbank’s where my parents are,” I shake my head. I look up what he’s talking about and feel a thrill when it’s less than a couple hours. Still, I try to maintain neutrality. “A little over an hour?”

“Well,” he brushes my hair over my shoulder and keeps his eyes looking just over it. “Depending on what you’re doing—maybe if you’re free…we can see each other again?”

I would love that. My heart is bursting just thinking of getting to have him in the place I called home. Of this meaning something. Of him wanting to see me again.

“Of course if you have a boyfriend by then and he doesn’t want you to see me that’s…I mean, live your life and if it works out we-“

“Yes,” I cut him off. “Yeah. Let’s see but that sounds good.”

He meets my gaze and I laugh a little, he was nervous and that was rare.

“Good,” he smiles with. “Until next time.”

“Until next time,” I step into his arms and it’s a quick affair before he steps away. I turn to head out the door, shielding my eyes from him. Not wanting him to see that this was stupidly hard to say goodbye.

He waves me off and I head back to my hotel with a heavy heart. But I think about him asking to see me again. Who knows when that would be. And I know this wasn’t the end of our story.

***

I’m happy to land in SFO the following evening, happy to busy myself with Oretta’s business, happy to have Winnie chattering away. I spent parts of the flight I wasn’t sleeping working on my MV proposal and it awakens a familiar passion inside of me I’d been afraid I’d lost.

I send out a silent thanks to Harry for knowing what was good for me.

I think of Harry often, Gray even less until I don’t think of him at all. I dream of London weekly; I missed it this time around. And as life resumes again I anticipate the change I sense on the horizon.

So when life gives me lemons I stop asking Do I or Don’t I. If one thing the last year has taught me was I had to listen to my gut and look at the signs. I had to start asking what I wanted and go after it. Even though Harry and I barely talk, I remember the lessons he’s taught me.

I stop looking to others to make decisions. There’s no guidebook or lists to help me make my decisions either. I take deep breaths and I believe in myself.

I build a new life on the remains of my old. I don’t let it dictate what I did anymore, I simply leave it as the foundation to elevate me even higher. I reach for the sky with my feet planted firmly on the ground. And I grow with reckless abandon.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

TAGLIST: @boomitsallie1 @indierockgirrl @ndunad @jerseygirlinca @sunshinemoonsposts @ninasw0rld @love-letters-to-uranus @mayamonroem @sassamanda77 @harryspirate

🤍

Epilogue

[tiramissyoucake]

No title sorry bout that lol Satoru Gojo x Reader, mainly fluff, reader lovingly bullies gojo, gojo is whipped, 800+ Words

CW: none, fluff head to toe, can't spell 'Satoru' without 'Sato' (sugar) gehehehehehehehe dies, little proof reading

Notes: I had a long day and I was book shopping and I realised "ah, gojo would buy shit for his gf just because he remembered her" so here we are, I'm not good at writing fluff plz bare wit me, I'm trying out a new divider plz tell me if it looks good or bad :')

A book slid across the soft surface of the table to you, you put down your mug and examined the cover then looked up towards your white haired boyfriend who's face looked like he was expecting you to jump into his arms and express gratitude.

"What's this?" Satoru's expression fell at your words. He sat up and gestured to the book as if that would make you understand. "The book you were talking about, remember? When we had coffee in that new place?"

Wow, he remembered? You couldn't help but smile, that conversation was weeks ago and he still remembered, during then you passively mentioned the book's title, you merely brought it up saying your friends were all reading it and talking about it but you weren't going to pick it up anytime soon (for the sake of your TBR list, you can't..)

"And you waited until now because...?" You picked up the book as you spoke, fingers flipping through the freshly printed pages and examining the font size and spacing of the words. Satoru snorted, "waited? I've been looking for it everywhere!" He folded his arms over his chest as irritation took over his features."Everywhere I checked, it was sold out!"

"Seriously? You ran around stores for me?" You teased, and he pouted, scooting his chair closer to you. "Of course~ when my love asks for something, I race to get it!"

"Satoru, that's nice, but.." You set the book down. "I didn't ask for–"

"Shhhh, you can show me your devoted thanks later." He cut you off with a finger to your lips, acting as if he was saving your breath from praising him and his valiant efforts (of purchasing a popular book).

Continuing this would just prove to be useless, although it was a nice gesture, even if you couldn't read it now– he listened, he knew you were interested and he made the effort to purchase something with you in mind.

To say Satoru was an impulsive buyer was an understatement. He's smart with his money, and yet moments where he loses all rationality in a transaction have been frequent after establishing a relationship with you. If Satoru sees anything in a store that briefly reminds him of you, he's taking it home to you.

The best part of the whole process is seeing your reaction, even if you told him he didn't need to waste his money on you– he could see the smile twitch at the corner of your lips as you grew flushed; almost as if shy that satoru thinks of you so fondly outside of your daily interactions.

His surprises could be anything, ranging from a mug that was the right shade of your favorite color to a necklace he thought would look good on you, it makes him even happier when he sees you use said gift in any mundane activity.

"This is really sweet of you, baby, thank you." You replied and kissed his cheek, Satoru hummed through a smile happily, accepting your affections. You reached for your mug– the mug he bought you because he knew you'd love the cartoon cat on it.

"So where'd you find it?" He waved off your question."It doesn't matter. What matters is that I got it before anyone else could, and capitalism loses!"

"Capitalism actually won because they got your money, so.." You quietly drank from your mug as you watched his face contort to disappointment. You restrained yourself from laughing at his pouting. How dare you belittle his victory?

"You're so mean to me! And here I bought 2 copies so we can read it together!" He announced as he showed his copy, the same book with the same cover. You set down your mug and cooed at him. "Satoru! You didn't have to do that. Honestly, are you obsessed with me?"

You uttered that sentence in a clear joking tone, but his expression hadn't changed. "Of course I am! I thought I made it pretty clear! You're literally all I think about!" Satoru proudly proclaimed and grew red in the face when you burst out laughing, your features growing flushed as well at his declaration.

"You're so lame, Satoru!" You wiped the tear away from your eye as you came down from your little giggle fit. He pouted at you once more. "What? Am I the only obsessed one here?"

"Maybe, I'm not the one who ran store to store looking for 2 copies of the same book?" His pout persisted at your retort, laying his head on your shoulder he stared up at you with a pitiful yet loving gaze, one that he would give you whenever you were being 'mean' to him.

"Okay, okay.." You turned to him and cupped both his cheeks in your hands, kissing his forehead, Satoru indulged in the closeness, feeling your scent envelope him as you leaned closely to him. He stopped you from moving your hands away just as you began doing so, keeping them on his cheeks.

"... Satoru?" You waited for him to answer but he only tipped his face towards you, you rolled your eyes unable to fight the smile off your lips as you kissed his cheeks, the tip of his nose and finally right on his soft lips. "Was that good enough compensation?"

His face reddened, and he nodded once. "Mhmm, thank you, pookie~"

[berrypass-de-murdler]

2 - 20 Gathering the Suspects

To anyone who read my previous post, thank you dearly. I was scared to write the message because I didn't want to come off as cruel but I feel a lot better now that I've finally publicly got it off my chest. I genuinely hope to avoid any more drama within this fandom, and continue to post my work normally <3

Following the serious post comes an extremely dumb episode-

I didn't know how to lengthen it, and then I tried, and then it got really bad fast lmao

HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE SQUISHY...

You will never get away from squishy grandmaster rose.

DON'T READ THE EPISODES WITHOUT READING THE BOOKS!!

VIOLET: Huh? What is it? Logico?

The only two others who showed up in the sitting room are Aubergine and Marble for some reason, even though they haven’t killed anyone (this series).

AUBERGINE: Logico! Buddy! Where are you??

Logico loosely creeps from the darkness with a glowing eye.

LOGICO: I know your secret. 

They all scream and throw things violently!! Once they stop, they look down - and Logico has been sliced to bits! They scream even louder.

VIOLET: LOGICO WHAT THE FUCK?!??

Aubergine tries to piece him back together.

VIOLET: THAT’S NOT GOING TO WORK OH MY GOD-

Logico chuckles as he steps out.

LOGICO: That wasn’t ME. I knew you’d freak out, so I made a decoy just in case. You could say… a Logi-Faux. AUBERGINE: WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?! LOGICO: Would you rather me have actually died? SUSPECTS: … 

Logico giggles. Before he reveals the lore, he must solve this ‘murder’.

MARBLE: We… all threw things. AUBERGINE: Yeah, does it even matter? LOGICO: QUIET, I NEED MY MURDER TIME!

Everyone rolls their eyes. Violet flutters over to the couch and sprawls out. Aubergine kneels by the fire and stares at it. She’s hiding something for sure. Logico is very blissful as he pads around.

VIOLET: So… how long is this gonna take? MARBLE: Wouldn’t all THREE of us be the murderer here? LOGICO: Can I please have my thing.

Marble’s face goes cold as she bathes in the dim light of the candelabra. 

LOGICO: Oh… what happened to you?  MARBLE: Many things happened to me, my child. And the more you knew, the more you’d want to stay away.

Logico grimaces. He doesn’t care about this person at all, must less want to blackmail her. He’s much more focused on Lord Violet. A painting of the animal is on the floor, probably used as a weapon. Lord Violet’s existence of being a completely feral beast always gives him the chills.

Drawling on as long as he can, Logico smells the false body.

LOGICO: OH! Like a tiny rodent. 

Irratino is so proud back home. Logico really listened to his ‘Logi-Faux’ idea! But he still has a lot of concerns.

LOGICO: All right, all right. The ‘real’ killer was Lady Violet. VIOLET: You’re blaming me for- oh, forget it! ‘Killing’ a decoy is not a crime! LOGICO: Attempted murder is a crime! VIOLET: I wasn’t trying to kill you! You scared the crap out of me! LOGICO: All right! Everyone sit down. It’s time for me to explain my theory. AUBERGINE: Need your tinfoil hat? LOGICO: Fuck you.

The end!

Without Irratino, Logico seems to be fading back into his og asshole self...

WHO WILL RESCUE HIM??

Also sad fact is, since Lord Violet and Beryl are dead, they won't be getting standard official artworks, which sucks cuz I put a lot of effort into their designs

I'll still definitely draw them though

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[roosterbruiser]

(If you're still accepting blurbs !)

‘I was looking forward to seeing you all week.’

You're just starting to go to the beach (for 2 weekends now) and it's usually the same day the Dagger squad plays dogfight football. You and Rooster been secretly yearning for each other and at this point you've given up using this time to read (just using the book and sunglasses to hide that you're thirsting all over him 😶‍🌫️). Rooster caves and sweeps you off your feet and (๑>◡<๑) ！！！！

you have your sunglasses high up on your nose, not chancing any of the sweaty, oily men playing a strange game of football seeing you practically eye-fucking them.

this is the third weekend you've come to the beach at the same time as them. the first two were total accidents--they just happened to be there at the same time you decided to set up a little reading nook in the sand.

but now? oh, you're absolutely here at the same time as them on purpose.

there's one in particular, one with a ridiculous mustache and ridiculous tan skin and ridiculous muscles, who's caught your eye. there's a distinct feeling in your gut when he looks in your direction--a jolt of something between excitement and fear. it makes you feel like electricity is coursing through your veins.

but right now, as you're "reading" your book, you're trying to hide the disappointment in your gut. you've timed your glances perfectly, making sure no one can see you, and you haven't seen your man.

what a waste, you think. now I'm actually gonna have to read Animal by Lisa Taddeo.

you sink back into the towel you're on, soaking up the hot sun as perspiration gathers on your hairline.

as you stifle a frown, you try to read a sentence, a pit of frustration growing in your belly.

but then the sun disappears.

brows knit, you look up, sunglasses falling low on your nose. and then he's here, standing just before you, grinning down at you. he has on the sweetest denim cut-offs you've ever seen and ark aviators--and that's all.

"hey," he says with a grin like the two of you are old friends. "I've been looking forward to seeing you all week."

you almost choke out a desperate me!? but then you think better of it. you let the book fall closed, push your sunglasses up on your head, and give him a sweet smile.

there's that familiar jolt in your gut--right on time as he digs his toes in the sand and awaits the sound of your voice.

"did I look like I needed some shade?" you ask.

"you were looking awfully hot," Rooster says with a a flush across his chest.

"you the protector of the beachgoer's then?" you ask, biting your lip.

he nods.

"well, as a Navyman, I take it upon myself to do my part," he says with a hand over his heart. "wouldn't want anyone getting burned. not on my watch!"

"ahh," you say softly, trying to keep your heart regular. "I'm feeling a bit special that I was chosen out of everyone here."

Bradley shrugs, still beaming at you.

"I can only do so much."

honestly, he noticed you the very first time you came to the beach. it may have caused him a football to the gut and a roll around the sand with Coyote, but he just couldn't get himself to tear his eyes away from you. he absolutely had to see what book you were reading, which he may or may not have read reviews for--strictly to get a feel of what you must be interested in. and he would be remiss if he didn't catch those little stolen glances.

"well, thank you for your service," you tease with a mock salute. "how can I ever repay you? apple pie? white bread?"

he laughs--a big and booming thing.

"how about your name?" he asks.

[zu-is-here]

Hello there Zu, I hope you are doing well when you read this ask.

I shouldn’t put such burden on you but I can’t say my feelings to anyone I know, so I’m going to vent to you if that’s okay. Feel free to ignore this completely.

I’m not feeling very well lately, I’m sad and angry most of the time, since I was 14 I thought I might be depressed, but I’m from a small village where people with mental illness are always labelled “Crazy” so I never went to a therapist.

I’m now 22 and I’m still having depression attacks ( I don’t know what to call them other than that) from time to time, where everything seems useless and empty, where I feel very far away from everyone, even my closest family members.

There is a lot going on in my life right now, and some serious illness is going to k!ll one of my family members, and I have been taking care of them and their house for a while, all of it while still trying to take care of myself and my own family, which is very stressful and hard.

So now, I’m stuck in this depression attack for almost 2 weeks and it never lasted that long, it usually takes two or three days max.

I’m also not doing great physically, I’m losing weight so fast that all my clothes are now slipping off of me, everyone around me noticed that, and they keep telling me to take better care of my eating habits, i do eat well, but the constant thinking and the stress keep eating it’s way in me.

I wish I could end this message with the usual “ your art and comics saved me in my lowest point “ but I actually feel very sad and jealous whenever I see your or other people that I follow here art, it makes me wonder why not me? Why aren’t I the one who gets the followers and the attention? Why aren’t I draw like I used to be? Where are all my motivation go?

Anyway…

Thanks for reading this, and as I said in the beginning, you can read this and forget it, I just needed out of my chest.

Wish you all the best 🌺

Hii!╰(*´︶`*)╯

Don't worry, you're not a burden for sharing your feelings (⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃ It wouldn't be right to leave your message unanswered, hopefully all our support here will make you feel a bit better.

The best option would be to consult a specialist sooner (thanks to the internet, it's possible to do it online and even make researches on your own), but first of all, you should come back to yourself.

You're doing a hard and great job by keeping taking care of your family, especially in such a state, but you still have limits that need to be replenished.

It's not only basic needs like sleep and food but also time for self care and your own interests: walks (with or without music), funny movies (with friends or alone), interesting books or comics, — anything old or new that helps you feel better.

It may be hard to focus on something since stress is hard to be ignored, but it's only in your head, and you're always the one in control, be it with others' non/verbal help or without.

Remember that bad days don't define your whole life. You can return to drawing and will do it even better than before; you will find your people, attention, and calling. Let this be your motivation for now. Please, stay determined ♡

[bitbybitwrites]

A number of lovely folks have tagged me in both Six/Seven/Some Sentence Sunday and WIP Wednesday ( and even the last line tag game) these past couple of weeks and I haven't been ignoring you. I actually have been meaning to post something. I've just been busy with Real Life.

So thank you so much for thinking of me: @sunnysideprince, @iboatedhere @onthewaytosomewhere @wordsofhoneydew @getmehighonmagic @daisyishedwig @forabeatofadrum @itsmaybitheway @nocoastposts @fallevs @taste-thewaste and I apologize if I've forgotten anyone😳

So here's some words for you ( definitely not 6 sentences) from 2 WIP (one Klaine and one RWRB)

From how ardently I admire and love you (RWRB online auction fic)

“Alexander, darling, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Pez leaned back in his chair, grinning.  His hair was electric blue today, as were his nails. His suit was bright, bold and couture, but only something that Pez could pull off. “Help me, Obi-Wan Okonjo, you're my only hope.” “With what now?  You do know Hazza is at a luncheon with more prospective donors for the shelter.  He should be back in an hour or so.” Alex huffed as he  plopped himself down in the chair in front of Pez’ desk.  “It’s why I came now.  I didn’t want him to be around to overhear.  I need help with his birthday present.  I can’t figure out what to get him.” Pez’ laughter rang out rich and warm.  “Alex, my dear Padawan, why are you stressing out about this?  You do know that you could just tie a bow around your . .” Pez coughed lightly, his eyes drifting downward as he smirked suggestively. Alex groaned.  “I know.  I know.  I was thinking something else would be better. . . I don't know . . something more spectacular.” “You are seriously underestimating how spectacular Haz finds your dick, my sweet strumpet.”

from I Know You Wanna Take Me Home (Klaine Valentines Challenge 2024/Pretty Woman!AU)

“Kurt!” a familiar voice said happily.  “You made it!” Kurt sighed as he looked over to his ex, and now best friend, Adam Crawford, who was clutching a whisky glass in hand, his eyes scanning the various young men that were cruising the room for attention Some of the young men were scantily clad in tight boxer briefs and barely buttoned Oxford shirts.  Some were in actual full private school type uniforms, wearing a navy blazer piped with red, each with a distinctive “D” monogram on the chest. They sauntered about the room: ties undone, hair rakishly disheveled. All of them gorgeous. Adam was obviously searching for someone in particular and  barely seemed to hear Kurt who snarked: “Were you missing home, Adam?  Does this posh-boys-private-school atmosphere do something for you?” “Ahh, Kurt, tease all you want, “ Adam said as he slung his free arm around Kurt's shoulders grinning widely.  “You've never enjoyed the delights of British boarding schools.  These Dalton boys would fit right in with the chaps from Eton any day.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow.  That was what he heard.  The young men from Dalton House weren’t just lookers.  They were well versed in everything from English Literature to economics. They could hold their own in academic debates while also using those dexterous mouths and tongues to suck your brains out of your cock.  Brains and beauty - and all of them looking for older (preferably more financially well off) “patrons”. Or so the rumors went.

I'm going to leave this as an open tag for anyone who reads this. :)

[artangelaum]

Fritz’s story: the first mission

Scroll down to read

Everytime he ran, or turned around, he'd see destruction, but he wasn't worried about that. He was more worried for his own teammates. The administrator had given him and his team time to bond for 2 months before this mission....if he didn't do something, his team will die!

He rushes over to his injured Soldier, attempting to heal him, but before he could übercharge him, the RED sniper took him by surprise and headshotted the Soldier the instant the übercharge was about to be activated.

Fritz desperately tried to use his medigun, but it seemed to not work, Fritz was feeling the tension in the air, as he grabbed his medigun tank and rushed over to the BLU spy and Demo, Fritz was able to heal them and activated the übercharge. They were able to fight off the RED Demo and Engineer, but then the RED Pyro came over and destroyed the Medigun with their axe. Fritz was unable to save his teammates as Pyro's flamethrower got them.

Three of his teammates were down, he picked up the broken medigun and tank, rushed over to Engineer and Heavy, who then revealed to be the RED Spy and plunged his butterfly knife onto Engineer.

Five down, three remaining. Fritz had to find his Pyro, Scout, and Spy. He could feel that his team would face major losses, and the uneasy feeling of dread was creeping up on him. He didn't like it at all.

Fritz panted heavily as he looked around, trying to find someone, anyone!

He saw his scout teammate, Michael on the ground, bleeding on his right side, his legs were also injured by the nearby turret.

The BLU Pyro just destroyed it and went to help their spy teammate.

Fritz quickly got bandages out, ready to patch Michael up and get him back to the base.

But then a hand stopped him—Michael's hand. Fritz didn't understand. Why was he doing this?

"Michael...you're badly injured, please, we can get back. I'll patch you up-"

"Doc, it's no need. I think it's already too late for me." Michael's eyes were half-closed, his voice was raspy, like he was struggling to say it.

Fritz didn't want to believe it, trying to put on a tourniquet. His eyes were now focused on Michael's injuries rather than his expression. He knew what Michael was implying, but just the thought was making Fritz crumble.

"Doc, you don't have to do this. I know I won't make it. Y' know...I'm actually quite scared, but you being here helped it a bit. I've lost too much blood at this point, and I know our mission isn't done..."

Michael coughed blood, trying to hold Fritz's hand, looking into his eyes. "Fritz...just keep fighting...don't worry about me."

Fritz felt his eyes well up with tears, his hold tightened. It was time to say goodbye, wasn't it?

Fritz could feel the texture of metal at his hands, he looked down and saw Michael's dog tags. "Please, give one to my ma, and keep one for yourself. So you'd both know I'm there with you, even if I'll be gone..."

Fritz felt his vision getting blurry, holding Michael towards his chest and gripping the tags tightly.

"Michael, I...."

"Thanks, Fritz...keep moving forward, okay?"

The scout showed one last smile before his eyes had fully closed, body going limp.

Fritz was still. He knew right then that his friend was gone.

"I....I'll keep fighting, I promise..."

He gently puts Michael on the ground, ready to get up but then the voice of the adminstrator cut through.

"Your friends are all dead. Good luck."

Fritz immediately fell down onto his knees, his eyes wide with shock. He was unable to save anyone at all. Everyone died because of his incompetance. He could feel his vision began to blur, head spinning with thoughts. His breaths were getting heavy, hands gripping his coat tightly.

Once he was able to snap out of it....he saw all the RED team in front of him, all surrounding him with wicked smiles, knowing they had already won.

Fritz braced for them to kill him, but they just started laughing.

"Killin' you's too easy!" The RED Scout snickers. The RED spy blew smoke on his face, Fritz had coughed from it. He looked up again at the RED spy, but there Michael was.

"You can't even save one person."

Fritz's eyes widened more, face pale at the sheer impact of those words. Michael's once cheerful eyes looking at him with pure distain and mockery. He knew it was the RED spy, but it still terrified him.

Then he felt the sheer force of the RED Soldier and Heavy, one of them grabbing his face as they began punching his face and stomach, kicking at his leg. The "final blow" was Sniper's arrows, piercing through his shoulders, trying to keep him from moving.

Fritz felt like he was in pure agony, eyes in tears at the pain he experienced, the laughter of the RED team driving him crazy.

At that moment....he had felt the intense anger building up. Everything then went black.

[negans-lucille-tblr]

Take it Back - Beau x Daughter!Reader Oneshot

Summary: When an unusual case lands on Beau’s desk, it leads to suspects and outcomes he couldn’t predict. 

Rating: 18+ // Pairing: Beau Arlen x daughter!Reader

Tags: nude photos, leaked nudes, anger, frustration, bratty!reader, major daddy issues, objectification, absent father, Beau being a terrible father, spanking, p in v, father/daughter incest, orgasms, hair pulling, cum in mouth, shame, guilt

WC: ± 4K

A/Ns: I wrote this before seeing any of season 3. I don’t know what it is, but once I finished writing this I actually felt really gross. I cannot believe my first Beau fic is father/daughter. What the hell is wrong with me? Anyway, enjoy if you’re just as fucked up as I am!!! A/Ns 2: I’m thinking of returning to posting to tumblr with a dark, gritty and smutty Soldier Boy series, so this oneshot is a bit of a trial to see if my audience is still out there 😅 So do let me know if you're reading and would like me to return! ❤️

Beau Arlen Masterlist // Jensen Ackles Master-Masterlist

“Mornin’, Sir.” 

“It’s Beau,” he replies without looking up from his cell. 

“Well, Beau, you’ve got a case.” 

He finally looks up at his company, smiling softly at her as she places the brown paper folder down on his desk. 

“Great, ‘bout time something happened around here, been getting bored,” he grins. “What is it? Kidnapping? Homicide? Drugs?” 

“Leaked amateur pornography,” she replies flatly, clasping her hands together in front of her. 

“What? Why have I got that? You know I’m the sheriff right?” 

“Victim kicked up enough of a fuss, asked for you to deal with it personally. You pass it on to whoever you want, I don’t give a shit.” 

“Alright,” Beau sighs, reaching for the folder. “Thanks, darlin’.” 

He waits until she’s left to look down at the file, reaching for his coffee to take a large slug. He licks his lips as he considers who would want him to deal with this personally, when it’s not really his kind of thing in the first place, but he guesses all he has to do is open the report to find out. He looks up to check his door is closed given the nature of the case, and clears his throat, opening the file to the first page. 

Y/N Y/L/N

“Fuck,” Beau mutters to himself, his forehead pulling into a frown. 

He instantly reaches for his bottom drawer, grabbing the whiskey bottle inside and unscrewing the cap, pouring a healthy measure into his coffee mug, following it with a quick slug straight from the bottle for good measure. Right now, all it is is words, but he knows beyond the first page will be the photographs that have leaked, screenshots from websites where they’re currently on public display. He purses his lips slightly as his eyes reread the name. He knew she’d changed her name to her mother’s maiden name, but seeing it there still hurts a little. But the main question still on Beau’s mind is the same one that had been there before he learned the victims name; why him? Why specifically ask for him? If anything, the motive is even more unclear now. 

Beau stares at the front page for a long moment, worrying his bottom lip as he weighs up his options. He’s a sheriff – an officer of the law – he should treat this case like any other, he should look at it factually and do his job. Though technically, maybe he should take a step back, hand this over to someone else who doesn’t have any kind of personal interest. But now Beau knows about this, he won’t be able to let it lie until whoever leaked those photos and plastered Y/N all over the internet for just anyone to find and jerk off to is caught and held accountable. 

He turns over the first page before he can change his mind. The copy of the photo has been censored, blurred out squares covering her most private parts, which Beau decides is definitely a good thing, he doesn’t need to see those parts of her. She’s standing in front of a full length mirror, one hip pushed out to the side, her legs slightly wider than a natural stance, her upper half twisted and curved to show off her chest. She’s done up for the photos, a lot of make up and her hair styled. Beau moves onto the next one. This one is a little less innocently posed than the first. She’s sitting on the floor this time, her legs spread and bent at the knee, her face a little clearer. She’s grown up a little more since Beau last saw her not long after she turned eighteen just over a couple of years ago. 

Much like the last, this photo is censored too, but it’s enough that Beau gets the gist of the photo, and moves on to the final one. This one has been taken with the front camera of her cell phone. Her back is to the mirror and she’s on her hands and knees, Her face in full view, but the view from the mirror is definitely where his focus goes. Once again, it’s been censored, but Beau still knows exactly what her intentions were when she took this photo. 

He huffs a breath as he skips ahead, now finding the screenshots of the various internet sites that the photos have appeared on, including one called “Revenge Porn”. Beau can’t exactly be mad with Y/N for taking the photos, she is a full grown adult who can do what she wants now, but he thought he’d done a good job reminding her of being safe on the internet, and this is certainly not safe. 

He closes the file and takes a much needed mouthful of his coffee, wishing it was just straight whiskey and it wasn’t nine A.M. This is not how he thought his day would go. But after only a few more moments of quiet contemplation, with several mouthfuls of coffee to accompany them, Beau finds himself reopening the file, flicking through the photos again. There are no answers there, of course, and they’re definitely not going to help him to close this case in any way, but he stares at them anyway and thinks about how long it’s been since he last saw her, how much she’s changed.

Beau finds himself reaching for the whiskey bottle once again, taking another swig straight from it, and licks his lips, sighing heavily as he once again closes the file and grabs it, getting up from his desk to take it to someone else. He shouldn’t be the one working on this case, even if she wants him to be. 

“Alright, listen up,” he announces, heading over to the whiteboard at the edge of the office. “We’ve got some kind of revenge porn. Should be an open and closed case, trace the IP address from the poster, lock ‘em up, job done. Who wants it?” he asks, holding up the file. 

The file is snatched out of his hands by Mannings, who is quick to open it straight onto the photos. 

“Damn,” he chuckles, “I’d be pretty pissed off if a girl like that broke up with me too.” 

“Victim claims she doesn’t have an ex-boyfriend,” Beau explains, digging his hands into his pockets so he can’t clench them into fists. 

He watches the file get passed onto Roberts next, who also ogles at the photos with a smirk on his face. He wolf whistles, which prompts it to get snatched yet again by another guy. 

“Damn,” he chuckles, and Beau just gets increasingly frustrated as he watches every member of the team enjoying the evidence, not a single one of them seeming to remember exactly where they are or what they should be doing. 

“Jesus, what I wouldn’t do to her. I’ll take the case, boss, I can go talk to her right now,” Collins calls out, his partner elbowing him in the ribs as they laugh amongst themselves. 

“That’s someone’s daughter, show some respect,” Beau glares at him. 

“Might be someone else’s daughter, but I can have her calling me daddy,” Collins counters, and the room erupts in laughter. “Clearly she’s got daddy issues.” 

“Alright,” Beau grunts, heading straight over to Collins and snatching the file out of his hands. “Seeing as none of you can think without your dicks, I’ll take it myself.” 

He grips the file in his hand for dear life as he storms back to his office, slamming the door closed behind him. He probably wouldn’t rest if someone else was on the case, anyway. It’s not like he didn’t try to get someone else for the case, but he’s the best man for the job. 

He heads back over to his desk and sits down, rubbing his fingers over his mouth as he stares at the front page once again, seeing the long paragraphs of her statement but not taking in any of the words. A knock at his door prompts him to look away, and when he looks up he sees Jenny leaning in the doorway. 

“Need help with that?” she asks, pointing to the file. “Could be good to have a woman’s touch.” 

“Nah, I’m golden thanks, sweetheart,” Beau forces a smile. “It’s easy enough, should have it wrapped up by the end of the day.” 

“Alright,” Jenny agrees, walking away and closing the door behind her. 

Alone again, Beau sighs, spurring his computer to life as he figures he should probably stop dragging this out and close the case as soon as possible. 

“Are you sure this is the right address?” Beau checks, looking down at the paper he’s just been handed by the cyber security team. 

“Yes sir, nearly every upload came from that same address. Some of the others have come from Canada, India, other countries, but usually in these cases, people save and reupload once they’ve found them.”

“Okay, thanks,” Beau sighs, prompting the guy to leave. 

He waits until he’s alone to wake his computer back up, clicking on one of the open tabs. It brings up one of the websites the photos first appeared on, and Beau tells himself that it’s just research, that it’s justified because any good officer of the law would look at all the evidence, but Beau’s got all the answers right there in front of him on that slip of paper that has the address on it, and he knows it. 

He takes one last look at the uncensored photos, chewing on his bottom lip as he tries to take his eyes off of the screen, but it’s like he can’t stop looking. 

His phone buzzes on his desktop, forcing his eyes away, and he takes the opportunity to close down the tab completely so he doesn’t have to get caught up in it again. He takes one last look at the slip of paper with the address on and grabs his car keys, ready to close this case once and for all. 

Beau takes a deep breath as he knocks on the door and looks up and down the street as he waits. Not much has really changed, not that he’d expect it to, everyone on this street has always been such a creature of habit. He stares at the American flag waving on the porch for a moment and then hears the front door opening. 

“Dad,” Y/N answers, her eyes a little wide. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know, Y/N,” he tells her with a sigh. 

“And here I was thinking you’d just come to see your little girl, considering it’s been… what? Three years?” 

“It’s not been that long,” Beau insists. “Is your mom home?”  

“No, she never is,” Y/N tells him, stepping to one side. 

Beau takes a moment to look at her. He’s not as shocked at the difference in her after staring at the photos of her all morning, but the change is a little more obvious in person. Eventually, he steps inside what used to be his house, and Y/N closes the door behind him. 

“So I’m assuming this is about what’s happened?” she asks. “Did you catch them?” 

Beau stares her down, but she’s as stubborn as ever apparently, because she just stares back with complete resolute. 

“So your statement says that you didn’t send these photos to anyone, they just happened to end up online somehow,” Beau reminds her. 

“Yeah, guessing someone hacked my phone or something,” she shrugs. 

“Why did you take the photos in the first place if you weren’t going to send them to anyone?” he asks. 

Y/N just shrugs again, crossing her arms over her chest. “For a confidence boost? To feel hot? I know you don’t like thinking about it, Dad, but I have a sex drive, y’know. I’m not a little girl anymore.” 

“Yeah, well the morning I’ve had has proved that,” he agrees, exasperatedly. Beau takes a deep breath and decides to put them both out of their misery. “I know you leaked your own photos, sweetheart.” 

Y/N’s eyes widen, but she quickly purses her lips and shakes her head. “What? Why would I do that?” 

“You tell me, darlin’,” he prompts, cocking an eyebrow. “You can’t lie to me, Y/N. I’ve got the evidence, and if anyone else on the force had taken this case, you could’ve been done for wasting our time.” 

“That’s why I specifically asked for you,” she smirks slightly. 

“Why did you do it?” he presses once more. 

Y/N clenches her jaw and then sighs, looking down at her feet. “I had to get your attention somehow.” 

“By posting photos of yourself naked online? You know I had to see them, right?” 

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” she shrugs, her arms still crossed. 

“You could’ve just called,” Beau counters, glaring. 

“For you to tell me you’re busy with work and then promise to see me this weekend and then call and cancel at the last minute?” she argues. 

Beau takes a deep breath and realises she’s right. “Alright. I know, I’ve been a shitty father,” he agrees. “But this wasn’t the answer. Baby girl, those photos are online forever, we can try to remove them, but people can have copies, and they’ll always crop up again.” 

“Oh well,” she shrugs, like it’s no big deal. 

“You don’t care, do you? You have no idea what you’ve done. Do you know how many men are going to see you like this now, and you’ll never be able to take it back.” 

“What do you care?” she scoffs, moving past him to head into the kitchen. 

“Excuse me? Of course I care. You’re my daughter.”

“The only reason you’re here, Daddy,” she counters, stepping closer to him, her face right up in his, “is because it’s your job. You don’t give a shit about me and never have. You barely even know me, you’ve always put work first. You have no right to be this pissed with me.” 

Beau clenches his jaw, not wanting to argue with her any more on that. They’re already going around in circles. She just stares him down for a moment or two before a small smirk plays on her lips. 

“Unless…” she counters, her smirk only growing deeper. “You’re pissed because you’re jealous.”

“Jealous of what? Hm? Don’t be ridiculous,” Beau scoffs, shaking his head at even the implication. 

“Did you like what you saw, Daddy?” she purrs, biting down on her bottom lip. 

“You’re crossing a line, sweetheart,” he warns her quietly. “All this for my attention, hm?” 

“Well, if I wasn’t getting yours I knew I’d get some guy’s attention,” she giggles. “Only difference is, if another guy from the force showed up I was gonna fuck him.” 

Beau bites his tongue, wanting to verbally ask the question of where he went wrong, but he knows they’ve already established that; he has never done this father thing right. Him being so absent is everything to blame for this situation. 

“That’s all you want? Some guy to give you five minutes of his attention?” Beau asks through a clenched jaw. 

“If he’s doing it right it’ll be longer than five minutes,” she winks, giggling at the way Beau only gets noticeably more irritated by her blasé nature. 

“Oh sweetheart, you were never spanked as a child and it fucking shows,” Beau grunts, his anger only building more and more, especially when Y/N only smirks harder and bites down on her bottom lip, still completely unphased. 

She steps back, hitching the skirt of her dress higher up her thighs as she begins to bend over the table in front of her, giving Beau a full view of the white lace panties she’s wearing underneath. He clenches his jaw and averts his eyes at first, but he finds his gaze wandering back to the one place it shouldn’t go, as he thinks about the photos that she leaked, and how one of them saw her in a similar position but with far less clothing on. 

“What are you doing?” he huffs, only getting even more frustrated. Only this time, it’s with himself. He shouldn’t be fighting with the thoughts that want to enter his brain. He shouldn’t be pushing away all the feelings that want to bubble to the surface. Beau’s not sure he can even acknowledge them right now. 

“It’s never too late to start,” she tells him, looking back over her shoulder, her eyes almost sparkling. “Daddy.” 

“Get up,” Beau demands, his tone a lot more firm than it’s been since he got here, but Y/N does no such thing, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth and wiggling her ass slightly. Beau can no longer deny how tempting it is, and clearly his words aren’t getting through to her, so maybe some good old-fashioned corporal punishment is just what his bratty daughter needs. “Fine.” 

Beau steps up behind her, his jaw clenched, and he has to physically unclench his fist and make sure he keeps his hand flat as he delivers the first spank upon her ass. Y/N flinches and whimpers, but then a short giggle bleeds through her lips, so he delivers a second, just has hard as the first, leaving behind a dark handprint on her skin. Y/N whimpers again, gasping for air, and before he knows it, Beau has delivered a third. His palm is stinging so he can only imagine how Y/N’s ass feels, but there’s something about it that he’s getting some kind of sick, twisted pleasure from, and it’s like he can’t stop. 

He delivers spank after spank, losing himself in the anger of the moment, and he thinks maybe he’ll finally get through to her, until the sound of Y/N moaning cuts through his foggy brain, and as he halts the next strike, he realises his chest is heaving and his jeans are painfully tight around the crotch. 

“You’re enjoying this?” he asks in disbelief, ignoring the fact that the ludicrous question should be aimed at him not her. 

“Did I forget to mention it’s one of my favourite things?” she asks innocently, blinking at him over her shoulder. “It just gets me so wet, daddy.” 

Beau can’t think straight through the fog of his arousal, mixed toxically with his anger. He begins to laugh, even though there’s nothing funny, and a small frown twitches over her forehead at the sound. 

“You want attention, sweetheart? All this is for my attention, hm?” he asks, reaching for his belt. She barely nods her confirmation, and Beau almost relishes in the slight fear that begins to flood into her eyes. “Alright, then you’ve fucking got it. Exactly what you’re craving.” 

“Daddy? What are you doing?” she asks, her voice a lot less smug than it has been. 

Beau ignores her, undoing his pants the rest of the way and stepping up behind Y/N as he reaches for her panties and tears them down over her ass, revealing that pussy he’s already seen plastered over the interest. It’s glistening more now, though, and something about that makes Beau’s cock twitch. 

“Don’t play fuckin’ dumb, baby girl, you knew what you were doing posting those slutty little photos. You were fuckin’ asking for it, so I’m gonna fuckin’ give it to you.” 

She whimpers as he grabs her hips and pulls her closer to him, her upper half falling a little more flat to the table top. 

“I know exactly what a girl with daddy issues needs.” 

Beau doesn’t overthink grabbing his cock and lining it up with her opening, and he doesn’t think twice about thrusting forward and shoving his cock straight inside his little girl, not until he’s as deep as he can get, and he stops for a second, feeling her warm, wet cunt suck him in, clenching hard around him like a vice. Slowly, she relaxes, giving him the room he needs to start thrusting, and he can’t help but moan at the sensation, closing his eyes and tipping his head back. 

“Fuck, Daddy,” she gasps out breathlessly. “You're so big. Fuck, I can’t believe you’re inside me.”

“Don’t play dumb baby girl, this is what you were hoping for, wasn’t it?” he grunts, reaching forward to grab a fistful of her hair. 

“Y-yes,” she stammers out, arching her back into the table, her eyes fluttering closed. 

“Did you want it to be me? Or were you desperate for just any man’s cock in there?” She doesn’t answer at first, but Beau wants one, so he tugs harder on her hair. “Hm? Did you want your Daddy or are you just a slut that needs anyone’s cock?” 

“Yours Daddy, I wanted it to be yours, that’s why I sent the photos,” she admits on an outbreath. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist your baby girl.” 

“Jesus,” Beau grunts, hating that he’s fallen straight into her trap, but he can’t deny he’s never felt this good before. His cock fits her perfectly, like she was made for him. 

“If I’d have known you had a pussy this good, I’d have stuck around,” he tells her, clenching his jaw harder, fucking her deeper and faster. He doesn’t really mean it, but his brain is so foggy with all these good sensations, and every time he says something dirty, or treats her like a whore, she clenches around him in a way that Beau can’t even describe. 

“Fuck Daddy, keep doing that, it’ll make me cum,” she gasps, reaching back and grabbing his hip, pulling him closer to her and sending his cock deeper. “Right there, right there,” she chants, and then he feels her grip onto him like a vice, her walls beginning to spasm around him as she screams out. 

The sound of his little girl screaming like that, the sight of her with her mouth wide open and her eyes rolled back in ecstasy, the sensation of her practically milking his cock is having the desired effect on him, and Beau can feel his thighs begin to tense, his balls begin to tighten as he pulls out quickly and tugs on Y/N’s hair, manipulating her to land on her knees at his feet. She instantly opens her mouth wide, sticking her tongue out, the corners of her mouth pulled up in a smirk as she waits patiently for his orgasm. It comes in hot, thick ropes of cum painting her tongue and mouth as he groans and pants over her, quick to let her go and step back as soon as he’s finished. 

Beau turns around, unable to look at her as he puts himself away and attempts to redress as quickly as he can. 

“Can you get the photos down?” she finally asks. 

“I’ll try,” he tells her, not looking back at her. 

“Are you going to visit again, or do I need to post more of them?” she challenges. 

Beau takes a deep breath, unable to stop the shame crawling over his skin. Not only for what he just did, but for what he drove her to do in the first place. 

“I’ll visit,” he tells her, nodding his head. 

“Then I’ll be here, Daddy,” she purrs. 

But Beau doesn’t reply, he just leaves the room in pursuit of his truck, hoping there really is a way he can remove those photos from existence before they send him back to her doorstep again. 

[barclaysangel]

rant (tw for body issues, sh, ed)

I’m sorry I just need to get this off my chest, to scream into the void

I was just showering, washing my body, and had this horrifying realization that my stomach was huge. It absolutely triggered something in me because my dad made me weigh myself this morning and I’m at my highest despite only eating twice a day. I know I don’t exercise, especially that often, and I haven’t been able to go on my 2 mile walks because of me getting sick and the heavy rain we’re having. But something just set my brain off and I started scratching and punching my stomach while crying.

This isn’t the first time I’ve done this. I punched my stomach like a week ago because I also realized then that my stomach looked like I was 4-5 months pregnant. And some sick part of my brain liked it because I want to have babies but the other part of me freaked because I’m obviously not pregnant, I’m just fat.

The funny thing is that I want to be pregnant. I want to experience that. But now I’m terrified of gaining weight with the pregnancy because I’ve heard my dad say shit about overweight women in general but also women who don’t lose the baby weight. Will I just become something else for him to talk about?

I don’t know why everything is hurting more. I’ve TRIED to lose weight. I’ve gone to the gym frequently in the summer and NOTHING happened. It’s harder for me to go during school time because I get so busy and just want to sit in my room and do homework. Why can’t I lose the fucking weight?!

There’s nothing wrong with me, I’ve been checked out, nothing is making me gain weight, no hormone or chemical imbalance. It’s just me. Despite only eating twice a day with occasional sweets a few times a week, I’m the one who is doing this to myself and I’m now at 164 pounds because of it.

I fucking hate it, I wanna take a pair of scissors and cut off my entire stomach, I wanna hurt my stomach until it’s flat, I wanna starve myself until it hurts. But nothing works. I’ve tried when I was younger to have an eating disorder because I was spiraling but I can’t cut off food and I hate throwing up. I attempted once to purge when I was in middle school but panicked and couldn’t go through with it.

I don’t even know why I’m sharing this. Who even cares? I’m the one with fucking issues. I guess I just can’t tell anyone about this. My mom will think I’m stupid and crazy. My dad will probably think the same and try to make me exercise more. I don’t know. I’m fucking tired and every time I try to be more confident and comfortable in my body, something happens and tears me back down.

If you actually read this, thanks. I’m gonna try to distract myself so I don’t hurt myself anymore and try to forget this until the next episode hits.

Sorry again.

[kasienda]

Celebrity Status: Ch 8 - Two Truths and a Lie

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 |

Read on Ao3

Chapter 8: Two Truths and a Lie

Adrien heard the tap on his window. A grin immediately bloomed across his face even before he turned to her. 

She liked him. She knew him in her regular life and she liked him. 

He let her in, still grinning like an idiot.

“You’re in a good mood,” she observed, smiling back at him. 

“You’re here. How could my day get any better?” Was it too much? Maybe, but he couldn’t give her more of an explanation.

Pink dusted her cheeks, and she glanced away. 

His heart jumped in his chest. Had he always been able to do that? Because she liked him! And he just hadn’t noticed, hadn’t realized he was the luckiest boy in all of Paris?

“How can I be of service?” he asked, his smile still in full force. He needed to find some chill before she assumed he was happy that she was having problems.  

She bit her lip. “I umm… I need your help.” 

He nodded. “With the reaction to the video?” 

“Yeah. I need to fix this. I know you’re out of your depth, but will you help me anyway?” 

“Always m’L-Ladybug! Always!”

She smiled softly. “I don’t know how I ever earned your friendship. Thank you.”

“I actually already have some ideas,” he told her, leading her to his desk already set out with two chairs. “I think the biggest issue is that you keep getting taken out of context. First, never say anything to the reporters at the tail end of a battle or when you’re out and about. And if a candid video looks bad, still don’t offer comment to anyone you don’t know and trust.” 

She nodded. “Yeah, I suppose that makes sense. But how do I fix the damage already done?”

He grinned. “We need to humanize you again. We need to get you in front of a camera with an award winning journalist for a friendly interview where you’re not gonna get cut off.” 

Ladybug frowned. “Award winning journalist? Like who?” 

Adrien grinned. “One of your biggest fans, Alya Césaire.” 

…

Alya was vibrating in her seat as hard as Marinette did whenever Adrien offered her so much as a smile. Marinette had never seen her so giddy or excited. 

“Can you believe it?! Marinette! I’m getting an award this weekend from Ladybug herself!”

“Technically, the award is from the city,” Marinette corrected, grinning at her best friend.

Alya laughed. “Who cares! Ladybug is going to hand it to me! She’s going to be there specifically to honor me! How crazy is that?!”

Marinette shook her head. “Not crazy at all! You totally deserve all the recognition! I’m sure Ladybug agrees with me.” 

“So here’s your ticket,” Alya said, sliding over an envelope. 

Marinette’s smile fell off her face. “What? You’re not bringing Nino?” 

“Of course not! You believed in me before anyone! Plus, Nino would be super bored.” 

“He would not! He’s your boyfriend! It’s his job to support you in all your amazing awesomeness and success!” And Nino wanted to go into film. He was going to have to get good at going to awards dinners. 

Alya frowned. “Do you not want to come?” 

Marinette’s stomach churned. “It’s not that. Of course I want to come!” She was already coming! “I just can’t.” Her gaze fell to the floor, unable to meet Alya’s disappointment. “I’m uh… grounded.” 

“What?! Surely, your parents would make an exception for this? For me?” 

Marinette shook her head, still staring at her pink flats. “I don’t think so… they were really pissed.” 

She risked a glance up, and regretted it immediately. Alya’s expression now looked like the sun would never shine again. 

Marinette blinked back the sudden burn behind her eyes. She couldn’t cry. She wouldn’t.

“But even if I’m not there, you’re getting the most amazing award that you absolutely deserve! I couldn’t not be more proud of you!” Marinette pulled Alya into a hug to hide her own tears. 

“It won’t be the same without you there,” Alya whispered.  

…

Ladybug stood on the stage, trying not to bounce on her toes in her excitement, when the emcee called Alya’s name up to be recognized. 

Alya stood from her table and made her way up the stairs on the side of the stage. 

But something was wrong. Alya was smiling, but it felt professional rather than the gleeful excitement Marinette had observed just the day before. 

Ladybug offered the award, framed in a dark wood with a beaming smile. She shook Alya’s hands maybe a little harder than was strictly necessary, but this was Alya! Her best friend who was being recognized as a professional when she was still a minor. It was a huge deal.

Alya should be over the moon. 

Marinette wanted her to be over the moon!

“Congratulations, Alya! I was so excited the moment I heard they wanted to honor you.”

Alya's smile stretched wider for a second. “Thank you, Ladybug.”

“Is something wrong?” Ladybug asked, glancing towards Alya’s table. The seat beside hers was empty. Nino hadn’t come. 

“My best friend isn’t here,” Alya admitted, under the cover of the audience’s applause. “I thought she would have moved mountains to be here. She’s apparently grounded, but she’s also so terrifyingly good at breaking out of and into all sorts of places, I thought she might still make it.”

Marinette’s throat felt tight. “I’m sure she’d be here if she could,” she managed.  

Alya smiled again, but it still didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you for saying that, Ladybug. It does mean a lot to me to receive this award and that you were the one to deliver it makes it mean more. Thank you.”

Marinette smiled for all she was worth. “You’re welcome! You definitely deserve it!” 

And then Alya stepped away, back towards her table, her shoulders slumped as she slipped back into her seat.

Marinette wilted. She had chosen wrong. She should have come as Marinette instead of Ladybug.

…

Marinette showed up to school the next day half an hour early with a box of macarons tight in her grip. 

Alya didn’t so much as smile at her when she arrived. Instead, Alya walked right past her. Marinette slipped beside her anyway. 

“How was it?” she asked, smiling.  

Alya didn’t look at her. “It was fine.”

It was so clearly not fine. 

“Look, I’m sorry!” Marinette whispered. “I couldn’t go. My parents—“

“I talked to Sabine,” Alya cut in, finally turning to stare directly at her. 

Marinette froze. 

“She thought you were coming to the event. Apparently you’ve been squealing about it for days . She told me you were proud of me and shared that she was, too.” 

Marinette’s mouth hung open, desperately searching for something, anything to say. 

“I-I was on my way—“ Marinette started. “I panicked.”

Alya turned away in disgust. “You bailed the day before! Said you were grounded! But you weren’t! I don’t get it! If what she said was true, then you were genuinely excited and happy for me, but you still didn’t come when you clearly could have! What else was so important that—“ Alya cut off,  her honey-brown eyes flooding with tears. 

“Alya,” Marinette said softly, reaching for Alya’s hand. “I’m sorry.” 

It wasn’t anywhere near enough. Marientte knew it, but she couldn’t say anything else.

Alya dodged just out of her reach, wiping away her own tears. “I didn’t tell her by the way.” 

Marinette’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Tell who?” 

“Your maman. I didn’t tell her that you weren’t there, but that’s the last time. I’m not covering for you anymore,” Alya told her coldly.

Marinette didn’t even care about that. She just wanted Alya to forgive her. She grabbed Alya’s shoulder.

“Alya, please!” she begged, crying. “How can I fix this?” 

“You could tell me what the hell is going on!” 

Marinette pressed her lips closed. She couldn’t do that either. 

“Good to know what our friendship means to you,” Alya bit out.

She shrugged Marinette’s hand off her shoulder and walked away.  

Marinette didn’t even try to fight her tears. 

… 

Adrien trudged up the stairs to his room after school. It had been a long day. Alya had been upset, which meant Nino was too. Marinette had never shown up at all. Adrien hoped she was okay. And then, Ms. Mendeleiev had been in a foul mood and surprised them all with a pop quiz. At least in spite of whatever was going on, Alya was still willing to gush about Ladybug with him during lunch, and she was enthusiastic about a possible interview. He couldn’t wait to tell Ladybug. 

If only he knew when the next time she would visit. 

He pushed open his bedroom door and immediately dropped his bag. 

She was already there, sitting on the floor against his bed with her knees to her chest. 

“Ladybug? Are you okay?” he asked. 

She burst into tears at the question.

He moved to her side faster than he would have for an akuma alert. 

Akuma’s didn’t make Ladybug cry. Not usually.

“What happened?” he asked.

“My best friend! She hates me!” 

“No one could hate you,” he insisted. 

“But she does. She’s so angry, she won’t talk to me at all. I tried to apologize, but I couldn’t explain,” she explained rapidly through her tears. 

“What happened?” he asked again, softly.

She swallowed and took a breath. Adrien rubbed the back of her neck the whole time. 

“I couldn’t go to something with her because I had to be somewhere else as Ladybug. But I couldn’t explain that. She knows I’m lying, but she doesn’t know why. And this thing was really important to her. I think I chose wrong. I should have gone with her instead of the Ladybug thing, but I didn’t. I thought it was more important to be somewhere as Ladybug. And now she’s never going to forgive me unless I explain, and I can’t explain.” 

Adrien squeezed her shoulder. “This might sound crazy, but have you ever thought about telling her?”

“Only a thousand times!” Her hands shot out to the side as she spoke. “But I can’t! I can’t put her whole life in danger just so I can keep her friendship!”

At least she was consistent with both her best friend and her superhero partner. 

“Maybe she’d think it was worth it,” he whispered. He always had thought that. 

“Maybe. But is it fair for me to make that decision for her?” 

“Does anyone know?” he asked, but he already knew.

She shook her head. "Chat wants us to share our identities. And sometimes I think he's right."

"You do?"

This was news to him.

She nodded, her arms wrapping around her knees. Her head rested on them, turned to him. "I think it would be easier in some ways. We could cover for one another, contact each other out of the suits, predict more accurately when one of us is likely to be late or not show up at all. And we could confide in each other more than we already do."

"So, why don't you then?"

"There's the obvious answer of the less people that know the easier it is to keep a secret. And that's still true. If we don't know we literally cannot give each other up. But honestly? I think I'd slip up. Like, if he gets hit, I might just scream his name. I have to make some hard decisions. And I already care about him so much. I think knowing who he is would make us closer. And I would be even more distracted, and unable to put him in danger even when I need to."

"You don't think you'd get used to it?"

She shrugged. "Probably eventually, but even a single mistake from either of us is potentially lethal. Seems safer not to risk it."

He was so surprised. He had always assumed that she didn't want to reveal identities because she didn't trust him or was trying to keep him at an arm's length. But really, it was just because she was trying to protect him.

She turned away, her chin still on her arms as she stared out the window. "He thinks he's in love with me,” she whispered.

"You don't think he is?" Because he definitely was and all these quiet times spent with her in his room had only solidified that fact for him. 

She shrugged. "He doesn't know me totally. He might be disappointed when he sees how much of a mess I am."

"Maybe he's a total mess too."

She laughed. "He seems so happy and confident, like, all of the time."

"So do you."

She scoffed. “Certainly, you know that’s not true by now.”

“I just meant—“

She laughed, leaning into his space. “You know, I think you might know me better than him now.” 

He swallowed. She was so close. “Yeah?” he breathed. 

“Yeah,” she whispered the word right against his lips. And then her lips were on his.

She tasted of slightly of salt. She had been crying, he distantly recalled. 

He kissed her harder. 

Because maybe, just maybe because he was the luckiest boy in all of Paris, maybe the whole world, he could do something to turn her day around, to make her feel better. 

Because he was never going to forget this day or this moment. 

And he didn’t want her to forget it either. 

… 

"What do you hate most about having a double life?" Alya asked.

Ladybug folded her hands on her knee and forced herself to look right at Alya who was sitting beside the camera they had set up in her room. 

"In order for Ladybug to be reliable, my civilian self has had to become the opposite. My friends get mad at me for disappearing or flaking altogether with the lamest excuses. My best friend especially often suspects I'm not being honest. My parents are constantly disappointed with the number of truancies I've managed to rack up. I've been questioned about doing drugs, having sex, joining a gang, and the list goes on.”

Alya frowned sympathetically. “That sounds hard.” 

“Sometimes I wish I could tell them, but doing that would put all of them in danger, and I’m just not willing to trade their well-being for thinking well of me.” 

“Wow. They’re lucky to have you even if they don’t know it.”

Ladybug smiled. “That means so much coming from you. Thank you.” 

“Does this mean there’s no love interests for Ladybug either?” 

Ladybug felt the heat burn in each cheek.

“Oooh! Is there someone?” 

Ladybug tapped her own lip. “Well, this lady never kisses and tells.”

“Ah! Ladybug, you’re killing me and all your supporters, too!” 

She laughed. It almost felt like they were just hanging out. Like, everything was fixed between them. 

She wished she could tell Alya that she had finally kissed Adrien, but she had kissed him as Ladybug, not as Marinette. And Alya wasn’t talking to Marinette, but she thought Alya would be proud of her for making the first move, and she hoped that with time, Alya would forgive her for her latest lie.

But Alya was also right that there probably shouldn't be any love interests for Ladybug. She was putting him in danger too.

It wasn't fair.

...

[just-prime]

Just read all your Ahsoka reviews, they're great, thanks for writing them

I think the reason Thrawn's eyes look off is the same why as Ahsoka's, Hera's, Ezra's, just anyone with the weird contact thing going on, all do. In real life you can't actually clearly make out someone's eye color from like across a room distance, but they've given this always noticeable almost florescent glow to the eyes. You can do that fine in animation but in live action it becomes uncanny valley

Very much agreed that the worst thing is the feeling of nothing happening. The show isn't paced to stand on its, it's meant to exist as part of the filoni cinematic universe. The mcu-ification of media is a f-ing plague upon the soul of art

And speaking of nothing happening WHAT IS SABINE DOING like she knows she's got a very short time to somehow steal the hyperspace ring so they can get back and stop Thrawn from returning, but she's just like nah I'll just tell Ezra nothing and chill out with him I AM PULLING MY HAIR OUT

Also just a last thing that was (painfully) funny to me that I haven't seen anyone else point out, at one point Sabine slashes a guy in the face then stabs him in the chest, then STILL kicks him away from her which is what actually knocks him over, BECAUSE LIGHTSABERS CAN! NOT! KILL IN THE NEW STAR WARS

Sorry I started out thanking you for your great posts, but then ended up just ranting in your inbox, totally no worries if you just want to completely ignore this ask lol

First off holy shit I have my first ask!!! I was in class when I saw the notification, so I couldn't get up and do a little happy dance...But know that I wanted to.

Anyway, YES on everything about the eyes. That's exactly it. You've managed to put words to what felt off perfectly. SO thank you, because yes, to all of it.

Also, yes, the mcu-ification of media is indeed a FUCKING plague upon the soul of art

I say this as a recovering MCU fan who's coping with the death of her childhood via fanfiction but seriously not everything needs to be set up for something else.

Also, it feels like this should have been a movie. 2 hours, maybe even 3, but then everyone would be in position and we wouldn't have to deal with all the stupid filler.

Yup, Sabine is horrifically out of character. She's nonchalant about things she should care about. She cares about thinks she should be nonchalant about. It's painful, and annoying, and I can relate to wanting to pull my hair out.

It is laughable to me that we've gotten this far and lightsabers are still functionally just swords? Like, we've not gotten to see someone doing something cool with them in a while. I totally agree also that they've been watered down, which is a shame because we're finally getting to the point effects-wise where we could be doing some really cool shit with them, and instead they are left as poke-y sticks.

Thank you so much for dropping into my ask box. Thank you especially for the rant. It was very fun to read. If it helps assuage the anxiety, know that not too long ago I was the on leaving anonymous blocks of text thanking people for the validation and also ranting a bit too :P

[missmeowfam310]

Lee Know knows everything 2.

hello again, first of all, I wanna say thank you to anyone who read this, liked it, and reblogged it. so, here is the second part (maybe the last). I actually like this one better than the first one. (you'll see why)

summary: first time, lee know being extra, (and lovey dovey)

warning: minors DNI, slight smut (not so graphic cuz I can't write actual smut, I can only read it), dirty jokes, praising, love making.

wordcount: 2.3 k

-------------

“hey stupid”

He answered your call after literally the first ring.

“hey, you’re still in the supermarket right?”

You asked him hoping that he was still there.

“yeah I’m still looking for the drink you had asked for”

“oh good, could you please get me jelly bears too?”

“oh okay”

“thank you baby”

“your welcome babe, be back soon”

“hmmm don’t be late”

“hmmmm”

And the call ended.

It was the time of the month, your cravings are wild, but fortunately, you have the best boyfriend ever, he offered to go to the supermarket to get you all what you desired, sweets, chips, snacks, the list was long, but he never complained, even though you had expected him to, but he didn’t, he gladly took the list and went out shopping for you. Lee Minho the boyfriend was still the friend-lee know but your boyfriend was more gentle and caring, lee know would smack your ass if you tried to mess with him, but Minho would take it with a smile (smack your ass lovingly) and cuddle you violently as a way to take his revenge, like that one time you called him in the middle of an intense game with his friends, you were so brave, but also so bored and you needed and craved his attention, you expected him to WWE you down but instead he was like:

“oh wait till I finish the game and I’ll bite you till all what remains of you is your bones”

You freaked out, you tried to hide, almost peed yourself when he found you, he lifted you on his shoulder like a potato bag, threw you on the bed and started tickling you with power, biting you everywhere, he even lifted your shirt and bit your stomach -which in fact hurt a bit-, you ended up begging him to stop, apologizing pathetically with teary eyes, when he stopped you were left breathless, his head was on your chest, your hands were in his hair, you were panting and he was giggling at you.

“that was mean”

You said after a while.

“you saw it coming baby”

“ah I kinda expected you to slice me into pieces and hide them in the fridge”

“that was my main idea, but our fridge is too small, so”

“yeah it can barely hold our snacks”

These conversations are so usual in your relationship; you have a psycho of a boyfriend.

And WHEN IS HE COMING? IT TOOK HIM WAY TOO LONG WHY IS HE-

“I’m home”

He says this phrase whether you’re at his house or yours, whenever he comes, which melts you heart, and he’s here with SNACKS.

He showed up opening his arms with the plastic bags in his hands, you ran to him, grabbed the bags and ran back on the sofa.

His expression was priceless, his hands were still in the air, he finally got them down, smiled and followed you to the sofa.

“OMFG WHY WOULD YOU BUY THIS MANY!!”

“in case you wanted more”

“oh babyyyyyyyyyyy”

You heart was going crazy

You put down the bags, jumped on him and hugged him.

“oh so now I get my hug?”

He said, holding you tight.

“oh shut up, I kovkkc”

“what? What was that”

“oh don’t play dumb you’ve heard me”

“no I did not”

You backed off a bit and he looked at your eyes a bit curious, his hair was a bit messy so you tried to tidy it up while repeating what you said using his hair as an excuse to run away from eye contact.

“I told you I love you”

You said in the tiniest and lowest voice ever, you’ll never get used to it, saying these words out-loud and actually meaning them, but his smile? His shinning eyes, almost glittery, his teeth, they are all worth it, he just got you a bunch of snacks from the 15mins away supermarket because you said you wanted it, well you didn’t really ask him he offered to do it himself, but you’re still grateful for his flat ass, and he definitely deserved hearing these three words, which to you, are hard to say.

He took your face with his both hands, showered you with kisses all over it.

“oh you lob me??”

More kisses

“of course you do”

Even more kisses

“I just got you the whole supermarket you little weasel”

He finally kissed you, on your lips, it felt different than all the kisses he just planted on every corner of your face, this kiss was slow, full of emotions, you could feel his love, the warmth from his hands on your face, the way his thump was rubbing your cheek. He backed off with his eyes still closed, smiling, leaned his forehead on yours, finally opened his eyes to meet yours.

“I love you more you know”

“no”

You said with a smile as you kissed his nose after saying it.

“are we about to fight over who loves the other one more?”

He asked with a little giggle as his kissed you again but with more power.

“No let’s not, let’s EAT”

“YES LEZGOOO”

You both started picking your favorite snacks, which is probably why he took a lot from each one because you both definitely have the same taste.

You turned on the TV and played the show you both watch together and started it watching it, you avoiding and postponing to watch this episode for the past two weeks because your friend told you it had bed scenes, which will be EXTREMELY awkward to watch it with your weird boyfriend, you have no clue how he’s going to react, but you played it anyways, you HAVE to go through this “episode” to go further in the “show”.

You and Minho had never done anything further than simple make out sessions, little touches here and there, but never the real deal, you thought he wasn’t ready, so you didn’t try to go further, but you’ll see today.

The episode started normally, the casual drama, until the main character started acting jealous because of his girlfriend’s male friend, they got into a heated conversation, that “somehow” led to having sex?

As the two characters were stripping each other’s clothes off, you took a look at Minho’s expression and he looked so immersed in the scene, so you continued watching, and them finally having the real sex, moans and all, dirty words, you took another look at his face and he was smiling while biting his lips.

“why are you smiling like a weirdo at a freaking sex scene?”

“no I was just wondering, if you’re into dirty talk”

He left you in shook, this statement did something to you, you felt something.

“I mean, I am if you’re willing to talk dirty to me”

You gathered your courage to finally say it, you acted unfazed while your heart was pounding in your chest.

“of course I am willing to talk dirty to you”

And that’s when you heart fell into your panties, you swallowed and turned to look at his face and he had this look, that he’s willing to give you whatever you liked and more, and it melted your heart, he never showed you if he actually wanted something.

“No, baby. Do you WANT to?”

He stayed quiet, looked at his hands, you felt sorry, because you always assumed what he wanted without actually asking him yourself.

“there are few things that I really want, and one of them is definitely talking dirty to you”

He said with a soft expression, you don’t know how does he always manage to look so soft while saying the craziest shit, as if he talking about his cats or his grandmother, and you love him so much for it.

“And? What do also you want?”

You asked with a smile, to comfort him and encourage him to talk openly and freely.

-at this point the show is totally ignored-

“I want to make you feel good, and give you all the love in all the ways possible”

HE STILL MANAGED TO LOOK AND SOUND SOFT AND LOVING

“I want to kiss you till we’re literally out of breath, stroke your hair as I appreciate you, kiss your shoulder and smell you”

 “oh baby why are you crying???? We don’t have to do all of th-“

You didn’t even realize you were tearing up.

“oh shut up”

You snuggled into, hugged him tightly.

“I want you to do all of that to me”

You whispered in his shoulders.

“I want you to love me even harder”

“you do?”

He asked quietly as he stroked your hair, his tone had changed and it hit you hard since you were literally on his lap, his head was in your neck, his voice was sending shivers through your whole body, goosebumps.

“yes, I’d very much like you to love me and appreciate me in all ways possible, I really want to love you back too, show you how much I really love you, and make you feel good”

The kiss he planted on your neck affected you more than it should, your fingers found his soft hair and played with it, as he planted more kisses.

“we shall continue this once you’re really comfortable, ready, and definitely not on your period”

You moved you head to look at him as he looked at you too, with his blinding smile.

You kissed him deeply and backed off to say.

“yes we shall” 

------------------

Minho was still the same weird Minho, but a more extreme version, he became flirtier, throws dirtier jokes, like that one time he asked if you liked being choked.

-

You were texting your friend, she was making jokes about her ex which made you laugh, while Minho was sitting right next to you, staring at you with curiosity.

“who are you texting and giggling with?”

He asked calmly, and you, being you, replied:

“the one I’m cheating on you with”

Without even lifting your eyes from the phone, because you were actually telling your friend what is currently happening, you can tell he’s jealous and he wants your attention, Minho’s usual cat behavior.

“you’re asking to be choked, aren’t you?”

With a threatening tone he sarcastically asked.

You answered, looking straight into his eyes, it felt like he was challenging you to answer, and you are always up to a challenge.

“hell yes”

“so you ARE into choking, noted, good to know, nice nice.”

He giggled at your blank expression, staring at the void, you thought he would be flustered by your answer, but turned out you had fell in his trap, again, there is no wining, he’s always one step ahead of you.

He giggled, throwing his head back

“I was joking baby “

you should’ve gotten used to his jokes by now, but no he still manages to get you all flustered.

-

Today Minho was exceptionally adorable? He was clingier than usual, he followed you around like a lost puppy, even when you were making something to eat, he was back-hugging you, smothering small kisses all over your neck, while whispering cute stuff in your ear like:

“hmmm you smell nice”

“ohhh you’re so fluffy”

He was literally glued to you, you weren’t complaining though, giving him head pats, appreciating this soft and loving Minho, it’s not like he is not affectionate at all, there is always this balance between lovey dovey Lee Know, and little shit devil rabbit Lee Know.

“you love me more today”

“I love you lots already what do you mean more”

He whined at you and bit your shoulder as you smothered the cream cheese on your sandwich.

“ouch Minho”

“you love pain don’t act all hurt”

You laughed shocked at his reply

“what the actual heck lee know?”

You left your sandwich on the plate, turned your neck to look at him, lifting your eyebrows at him.

He looked at you smiling while patting on you head, stroking your hair and said:

“you said you liked being choked, remember?”

Ah-

He was biting his lips obviously holding his laugh, sometimes you hate him, for getting under your skin.

“please can I finish making the damn soundwich?”

You turned to finally eat your sandwich but he turned you around again, you will start getting dizzy

“I love you so much you make me want to bother you all the time I can’t help it”

He said while holding your face with his both hands landing a small kiss on your pouting lips.

“I love you”

You hit him on his shoulder

“I already know so stop repeating it”

He had said it million times already but it still feels like the first time, you hate how affected you get.

“you don’t love me do you?”

Here we go again, his dramatic ass is at it again.

“shut the fuck up and let me eat my damn sandwich”

“I knew it, you will always choose food over me, and by the way, this is MY bread and MY cream cheese, so technically this is MY sandwich”

“yeah and you are MY boyfriend, what yours is mine”

He back-hugged you again.

“yup that’s right, I’m YOUR boyfriend and you love so damn much you can’t live without me, and my food”

Said it in soft voice, moving his head in your neck like the small kitten he is.

“yes, I admit, I can’t live without you nor your food”

You played along, smiling.

You were just about to put the sandwich in your mouth when he asked

“you still love me, right?”

He sounded serious this time, you gave up, you’re not eating this sandwich, not today, so you put it in the microwave, and turned around to face him.

“Of course baby, I love you, I love your cute small three cats, I love your cute teeth, your long lashes, your laugh, I love how you smell in the morning, I love your clothes that fit me just right], I love when you randomly kiss me, I love how you look at me when I’m not watching, and I lo-“

He is pro at cutting you off with his passionate kisses now.

He kissed you, and you lost all the senses nothing on your mind but him, no smell but his, no touch but his, no sound but his. He held your neck with one hand while the other one was wrapped around your waist pulling you even closer, your chest touched his, where these fast heartbeats, yours or his? You didn’t know, your arms found their way around his neck, your fingers pulling at his hair, you both were immersed in the kiss that’s getting deeper by the second, between your kisses that got sloppy, you barely managed to say:

“to the bedroom”

Never cutting the kiss, he wrapped both of his arms around your hips to lift you up, walking stably to the room, I guess the gym is working because two months ago he couldn’t lift the coffee table, and now he’s lifting YOU up.

“Oh, my strong boy”

You mouthed on his lips, and he smiled “only for you”

You moaned “that’s hot”

You kissed him harshly, bit his upper lip, and pulled at his hair even harder.

“oh getting rougher I see”

He mischievously said while putting you on the bed slowly, lowered himself slowly, not kissing you yet, he decided to play with your messy hair as he was staring at you with so much love in his eyes, got you all emotional and in your feels, but you just HAD to ruin it.

“are we about to kiss right now?”

“yes, and so much more”

Deserved, you can’t really try him without getting immediate payback

The way he leaned to kiss your cheek softly and slowly, taking his time, every kiss he landed was burning, and as he was kissing you, his hands were drawing shapes on your waist under your t-shirt, your hands were playing with his hair, which smelled so fucking good.

He was soft and gentle, as his kisses were.

“Do you still wanna keep going?”

He asked when he got to your pants, did he hear your racing heartbeats?

“hell yeah why would I want you to stop now?”

Breathless, you sounded.

“you could’ve just said a small “yes” but you being the dramaqueen that you are…”

Dead serious, he looked, but you guess he’s nervous too, both are mumbling random shit.

So you took his hands and looked straight into his eyes.

“it’s okay baby, you’re doing good, keep going”

You comforted him hoping he’d keep going in that pace. H took your hands that were in his, planted a kiss on each one of them, and lifted them up near your head on the mattress, tangled your fingers, and began kissing you hard, while his whole body melted on yours, you didn’t think he was heavy, he was warm. You detangled your fingers from his, and moved your hands under his shirt, around his waist, he felt so soft and warm, he got your message and got up to take his t-shirt off, and damn what a sight, the way he lifted his arms, his cute belly, he had big ass biceps, strong back, strong ass thighs, he had a bit of muscles here and there, but you really adored his cute belly, he was just beautiful and graceful. You reached to touch him probably, your hands went from his belly to his chest, to his shoulders, and ended up on his neck, pulled him down to kiss him again, it seems like you’ll never go somewhere with this because you’re both so addicted to kissing each other, so you reached to your own shirt to take it off as he stared at you in awe.

“stop it”

You said because he kept staring, it’s not like he had never seen you shirtless, but he always never looked at you like it’s first time he sees it. You could feel your skin tingling under his eyes, his admiring eyes.

“damn, how could you be so beautiful in every freaking situation?”

“cheesy”

With  bored face you said, as you took your bra off, and he started taking his pants off, ‘oh it’s happening’  you though, you were starting to freak out but tried to play it coo. Until you saw him pulling the blanket over the both of you, safe, comfy and warm, that’s what you felt.

“how about YOU take my panties off for me?”

The look on his face was priceless, the way he smiled shyly after it, giggled in tiny

“I think I’m so in love with you?”

You said , dead serious, because the way you felt in this particular moment, in the most sexual moments ever, you felt so in love, he never made you feel uncomfortable, how can he be so, perfect?

“in love?”

He asked, because yes you both say “I love you”, but “in love”? it’s so much more, deeper and sensual.

“yes, Minho, I’m pretty SURE I’m in love with you”

He smiled again, flushing, you didn’t know how you could you take it, it was an overwhelming feeling.

“just fuck me already you’re wasting our time”

You had to escape this overwhelming feeling, your heart was about to burst out, you will lose your shit, you were also impatient.

staring directly into your eyes, getting closer, but not kissing you yet, then you realized he was reaching down to take your panties off, you stared away, embarrassed and shy, considering the way he his fingers touched your thighs as he was sliding the panties down, oxygen, air, a breath, ah…

But of course this dork HAD to ruin it by swaying your red cute panties in the air while laughing at it

“cute”

You slapped his shoulder

“asshole”

“what? I said it was cute”

He said with his cute little pout.

Then he reached to his own boxer, to take it off.

At this point you were a hair close to fainting out.

But the way he held your hands after it, kisses you slowly, sensually, calmed you down, the Lee Know affect, you call it.

“you okay pumpkin?”

He asked as he stared at your expression trying to read it, you were obviously nervous, but it’s only natural.

“yes baby, keep going, I’m perfectly fine”

He reached down to prepare himself, when he was done preparing, he looked at you, gave you one of his beautiful smiles, and grabbed both of your hands, kissing as you both connected for the first time, the discomfort at first was bearable, you needed to breathe, so he broke the kiss.

You hear his panting, he was breathing heavily, was it because you weren’t as relaxed as you should be? you tried to breath out, relax, remind yourself that this is Minho. You heard him sigh.

“you okay?”

You asked him and breathlessly giggled, looking a bit shy.

“I’m the one supposed to ask you this”

With a red face, he said.

“I’m okay baby that’s why I asked you”

“I’m alright love, you’re doing great”

“you’re doing great too, you’re doing so good”

You both were sucker for compliments in these type of, situations…

You were both taking your time, then slowly things got heated, the room was filled with moans, sighs, and groans, you weren’t so loud, not in bed at least, and you also found yourself enjoying praising him, he groaned louder every time you did.

“you’re doing great, yes baby just like that”

You loved how it felt like you were both equal, no one is less than the other.

“I wanna be on top ”

You said out of the blue, you had this burning urge to see his face as you were pleasuring him, he changed positions, and held your waist up to help you lift yourself.

It was worth it, the look on his face, the way he closed his eyes, mouth a bit opened, he still managed to look soft in the most sexual moments ever.

Your found your pleasure in pleasuring him, you liked the feeling, making him feel good, but you couldn’t ignore the burning sensation, you were a sweating mess, but not as much as Minho, whose hair was sticking to his forehead, so breathless, so lost in his own pleaser.

His grip on your waist was so tight and harsh, he’s close, and so were you.

The closer you both got, the louder you became, till you both reached you highs, that blissful feeling.

You fell on his chest, feeling sticky, but it didn’t matter at this point.

As you both were heavily breathing.

“you did so good, you were so good for me, beautiful”

He said, moving your hair from your face, to look at you properly.

“was I?”

“oh yeah”

You kissed his chest and held one of his hands near your chest.

“only for you”

You said with a smile.

“only for me”

You giggled at his childish tone.

“we definitely should do this more?”

You whispered.

“definitely”

He agreed but the way he was still panting and breathing told you otherwise.

“old”

You whispered, but the slap on you naked butt told you that he heard you.

“wanna go another round? Huh?”

“no I was joking sit the fuck down”

“that’s what I thought”

(I hope you all like it, tell me what do think)

[dreamingangelwolf]

Hello tumblr, I am not dead yet *fist pump*

Finally answering one of two tagging things from @aranict - this is long overdue, to say the least…!

3 Ships:

1. Dabi/Hawks from My Hero Academia. Literally one interaction was all it took for me to go ‘oh god I ship it’ and, damn, I ship it hard. It may not be canon, but the potential for it is unreal - the snark, the parallels, the tension, the drama, that delicious enemies-to-lovers foundation, yesssss. Helps that each of them has a very attractive voice to me, too, haha X) This latest season is going to hurt me, I can tell…

2. Rowan Whitethorn/Aelin Galathynius from the Throne of Glass series. As much as I wanted these two to be much more of a slow burn than they actually were, I can forgive that when they work so well together as a couple. Crying shame also that we never got to see them literally fighting side by side, but we got “To whatever end” instead and y’know what? Iconic.

3. Zack Fair/Aerith Gainsborough from Final Fantasy VII. I have loved these two for nigh on 15 years now. I found FFVII because of them. I love the innocence of their fledgling relationship, I love the tragedy that it fell victim to, but mostly I adore how happy they made each other, and how complimentary their personalities were. (I have just reached Gongaga in Rebirth too and when I say I spent 50% of this part of the game clutching my chest over my heart - augh. The Feels.)

First Ship: Had to stretch my memory back a bit, but I’m pretty sure it would have been Lenne and Shuyin from Final Fantasy X-2. That was my first ever FF game (criminal, I know, but fight me) and their story grabbed my 14-year-old heartstrings like nothing else at the time. In retrospect, it might have been the tragedy of it again, and that was probably the first tragic romance that really resonated with me? Admittedly, ‘1,000 Words’ probably helped with that, heh (still love that song).

Last Song: ‘Choke’ by The Warning, whom I discovered in the last few days and damn. Talk about fresh talent. There are very few bands for me where I prefer the live version of a song to the recorded one but these girls are breaking all my expectations. Will also recommend ‘Hell You Call A Dream’, which is the song I was recommended and that got me hooked!

Last Movie: The Crow (1994), which my local cinema put on now that trailers of the remake with Bill Skarsgård are making the rounds. To my friends’ exasperation, it was a bit lost on me. I like the concept and the basis of the story, but I didn’t quite dig the goth-ness of it (eternal apologies, Brandon Lee - it’s no slight on you, I promise). I can appreciate it as a cult classic, and for its importance at the time, but personally it wasn’t what I want from a film nowadays. Can I still call myself a 90s kid

Currently Reading: House of Earth and Blood by Sarah J. Maas. I’m about 1/3 the way through, off the top of my head, and while it’s not gripping me like ToG (or even, dare I say it, ACOTAR) did, I’m liking it so far. It has, however, spurned a SJM Bingo Card between me and my two friends (who have also read the entirety of SJM’s books and are cheerleading my foray into Crescent City), which is proving to be highly amusing X)

Currently Craving: udon noodles in some kind of broth. Preferably a light, beefy one. Sick as I currently am, I just want the warm, thick, soft noodly goodness as a source of comfort and a way to flush out my sinuses. I curse my lack of takeaway options and my inability to cook one of my favourite foods for myself.

Okay I’m not tagging anyone else because I’m running on my last few brain cells and still need to get myself to bed, so I’ll wrap up with a thanks to aranict for the tag and a promise to get to the next one soon!