#almost 40 chapters we've been doing this

[bensonoliviasstuff]

“Turning Page”

Chapter two! “ Loml”

Masterlist for “Turning Page”

Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Once Bucky regained consciousness and was no longer the Winter Soldier, all he missed from the 40s was his wife. But maybe she's closer than he thought.

Warnings: English is NOT my first language, so I'm sorry if there are too many errors. Futhermore i don't think there are many warnings, a little bit of angst, memory loss, betrayal, trauma, Insecurities and other things that you will discover throughout the story. And the best part: Thanos doesn't exist here

“Steve?” You said with a mixture of shock and joy. “Long time no see!”

Bucky frowned as he saw Steve smile at the beautiful nurse before them.

“I thought you were still in Washington” Steve flinched when you gave him a hug, squeezing the bruise that threatened to form on his rib.

“Did you get into another fight?” You said observing the dried blood on his cheekbone “Some things never change”

As you turned to grab the material you would use to clean Steve's face, Bucky discreetly elbowed his best friend before whispering. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your pretty friend?”

Steve rolled his eyes before you turned your attention back to him. “Y/N, this is Bucky, Bucky Barnes, I already told you about him” Steve pointed to his smiling friend next to him “Bucky, this is Y/N Y/L/N, my friend and ex neighbor since we were 16 .”

You looked up at Bucky and it seemed to him that things went in slow motion when you smiled, he almost didn't hear you when you said “Nice to meet you”.

He gave a slight shake of his head to regain consciousness and turned to Steve. “If you've been friends for so long, why have I never met this beautiful girl?” You gave a sheepish smile as you bandaged Steve.

“First: you would flirt with her exactly like you are doing now” You laughed softly and Bucky was sure that was how angels laughed. “Second: She went to nursing school in Washington a while ago, I didn’t know she had come back until now.”

“I'm sorry I didn't warn you, I came back a little while ago and things have been busy, but we'll see each other more often from now on.” You said, taking off your gloves.

“That’s a splendid idea” Bucky said, if you had gone to college maybe Bucky should start improving his vocabulary.

You smiled at him before turning to Steve “I finished, you can go, I have to do a blood draw, but let's plan to have a milkshake, I missed you” then you turned to Bucky. “I hope to see you again, Bucky Barnes.”

“You can count on it” He winked at you before you left the room shaking your head.

“Look, we've been friends for a long time, don't even think about it” Steve pointed his finger at Bucky who was smiling with hearts in his eyes. “I'm serious, if she doesn't want to be my friend anymore because I introduced you two, I'll break you”

Steve stood up and left, Bucky behind him muttering “It’s easier for her to break me” with a smile.

After that day, it was quite funny for you to see Bucky every day in the hospital with some mysterious illness that only you could treat.

Sometimes he would arrive saying he had a really bad migraine, sometimes he would arrive with a terrible stomach ache, all this when he didn't arrive saying he had a fever only for you to put your hand on his forehead and say his temperature was normal.

Your friends from work at the hospital were already more excited than you were, always talking about how that handsome man was wooing you.

You always laughed at these crazy ideas, for you he was just a flirt who flirted with all the girls, but you had to admit that you were starting to get attached to his visits to the hospital.

One day in particular changed your view of him.

Your duty was almost over, you had already changed your clothes and grabbed your bag to leave, Bucky hadn't come to see you today.

You were sad, you spent half of the duty wondering what could have happened, you had come to the conclusion that he had found another girl and lost interest in you.

You said goodbye to your friends and were leaning against the reception desk, looking for a hair tie in your bag.

You had found it and were finally tying up your hair when you heard a familiar voice call out to you.

You turned around and found Bucky a few feet away, holding a bouquet of colorful flowers.

Your friends who were behind the desk began to sigh and squeal excitedly, you placed a hand over your mouth, hiding the wide smile that was about to spread across your cheeks.

“Oh Bucky, what happened now?” You teased, crossing your arms against your chest. “Pollen allergy?”

He laughed, hiding his face behind the flowers. “Actually, miss, it's a very serious allergy to 'being away from you'” You blushed when he approached and your friends sang a chorus of “Ownnn how cute!”.

“This one should be easier to deal with” you said as he approached.

“There is only one treatment option” He said with conviction, making you laugh.

"And what would be?"

“You agree to go out with me” he said and extended the flowers towards her.

You took them and smiled “I would love to.”

“Exams state that she has some internal injuries that have not been treated correctly, her brain has been badly affected so she is going to be treated for the headaches that will definitely bother her for the rest of her life” Tony was listing while Steve and Bucky followed him towards the medical wing with quick steps.

“She's also going to need physical therapy because apparently her shoulder ligament was torn at least three times, and lastly most importantly…” Tony stopped in front of a door turning to Steve and Bucky with a hard look “She She hasn’t spoken a word since she opened her eye, we don’t know if she just didn’t want to talk or if there was something behind it.”

Bucky was shaking, he couldn't even imagine what your reaction would be like.

Tony opened the door and walked in, Steve was right behind him when Bucky pulled him out of the room.

“I don’t know if I should go” Bucky said unsure, Steve frowned.

“Bucky, she’s still your wife, why don’t you want to see her after so many years apart?” Steve grabbed his friend by the shoulders.

“That’s the point Steve, I want to see her more than anything, but what if she doesn’t want to see me?” Bucky asked nervously. “What if she doesn’t even remember me? What should i say? ‘Hi, I’m your husband, we’ve been married for almost eighty years, bizarre right’?” Bucky acted out to Steve. “I'm no longer the Bucky she fell in love with, I'm no longer the person who made her laugh until her stomach hurts, I haven't made anyone laugh in over seventy years” He said scratching the back of his head nervously.

“What if she doesn’t like the new Bucky? What if she doesn’t like sleeping hugged by a metal arm?” He raised his left hand, showing the wedding ring above the metal finger. “What if she doesn’t love grumpy Bucky?”

“What if she does?” Steve interrupted before he could continue. “What if she likes the metal arm? What if she starts to love annoying a Bucky who gets stressed about everything?”

Steve raised his arms, dropping them to his sides. “As far as I remember, the last time I saw her she even loved Bucky who was supposedly not alive.”

“She probably doesn’t remember that” Bucky ran a hand over his face.

“So make her remember, if today you remember so can she, you heard what the scientist said, she always ended up remembering you” Steve put his hand on the door “You haven't changed enough to have stopped loving her"

Steve entered the room, and Bucky unconsciously held his breath as he did the same.

You didn't see him right away, you were paying attention to what Tony was doing with the equipment next to you.

Bucky kept close to the door, thinking he could slip away without being noticed if he was lucky, but that was when you turned your head towards him.

It was exactly the same as when he saw you for the first time, your eyes met his and everything seemed to be in slow motion, if he ignored everything and just kept looking at you, he could easily believe that it was still the summer of 1941.

You didn't know why, but you couldn't look away, something about that man made you want to keep looking at him, his blue eyes were familiar to the butterflies in your stomach.

“Y/n... Do you know them two?” Tony pointed at Steve and Bucky.

You looked away from the man with blue eyes that made your stomach do somersaults and glanced at the blonde who was looking at you expectantly.

Something about him made you have a déjà vu about a smaller man.

You looked away from him and looked at Tony before he speaks: “That’s Bucky, and that’s Steve” You looked back at the men, you assumed the brunette was Bucky.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I know them” You apologized, seeing Bucky’s gaze drop as if you had just broken the news that someone had died. “I… I’m sorry, should I?”

“No, it’s okay” Steve said, with a sad smile.

Tony picked up a bag and placed it on the furniture next to him. “Here are some clean, comfortable clothes, I believe they are in your size, let’s wait outside while you change.”

Tony dragged the other two out of the room and started messing with something on his cell phone.

“Tony?” Bucky called cautiously, “Thank you for what you’re doing.”

“Don’t thank me” Tony looked up “We both know I still don’t like you”

Steve gave a weak smile at Tony's statement, Bucky nodded, raising his hands in surrender.

“But I know what I would feel if Pepper forgot about me” Tony looked away. “That’s why I’m helping.”

"I thank you for that"

The three looked to the door when they heard it open.

Bucky held his breath when you walked out of there wearing sweatpants and a “S.H.I.E.L.D” sweatshirt.

“Great, the clothes fit, now let’s go” Tony said, putting away his cell phone “That brunette over there is going to show you to your room”

“There are two bedrooms here” The real estate agent continued walking around the apartment. “This is where our Tour ends, I think it's the perfect apartment for you, it has a beautiful view of the city, it's close to the hospital where you work, and there's plenty of space for two people, or even three if you're thinking of start a family soon.”

You turned to Bucky with a smile on your face, the apartment was a bit trashed, but you could perfectly imagine everything you and Bucky would change in it to make it 'home'.

“What do you think, doll?” Bucky asked with a smile.

“I don’t think it could be more perfect”

This is the kitchen” Bucky said, showing the room that Tony made sure was empty.

After almost killing Tony and Steve for leaving him alone with you, he followed the path beside you, He tried a few times to make comments, but you just looked at him, smiled and responded with a nod.

He then stayed quiet, taking every opportunity he had to just keep his eyes on you, he would never pass up the chance to watch you bite your nails or bite your bottom lip, everything you did was like the best movie in the catalog for Bucky.

He watched with an adoring look as you walked around the kitchen, taking in every detail, you did the same in every other room, taking in everything and not saying a word.

“There are coffee grounds in the disposal” It was the first time you said anything since they left the hospital room.

Bucky gave the most genuine laugh he'd ever had since he could remember being Bucky Barnes, he felt so much joy over such a stupid comment because it sounded exactly like something you would say.

You couldn't help but smile at his laugh, something about that man made you feel like you couldn't avoid many things.

"Yes! Tony always complains about it, no one ever listens.”

You licked your lips, hiding your smile.

“The next thing I’m going to show you is your room” Bucky said, now smiling.

“Do I have a room?” you frowned when Bucky nodded like it was obvious. “Why are you being so nice?”

Bucky felt his heart beat faster, Is this when he says he loves you?

I mean...” you continued before he made a decision. That man in armor took me out of that horrible place, gave me medicine, did tests, and now you’re going to keep me sleeping here?” You shrugged your shoulders “You guys don’t even know me”

“This is what we do” he lied, it was all a lie, He never did for anyone what he would do for you “We help people who need help” lie, his brain screamed that he was lying, he knew you, he knows you, only he knows how you hate the dark and are afraid of needles even though you are a nurse, His heart screamed, asking him to tell you that only he knew you better than you knew yourself. “I would do this for anyone”

“Even by those you don't even know? What if I were dangerous?” You weren't, you asked him to kill every cockroach that ever appeared in your apartment, He knew you, it was killing him to be in front of you saying he didn't know who you were.

“I trust you” His vocal chords were trembling

“Why?”

“I feel like I should” Holy Ghost, you were the love of his life, even if he didn't want to he would trust you.

You stayed silent, looking at the man who looked like he was in physical pain with every word that left his mouth.

“I feel like I should trust you too” felt like the right thing to say.

Bucky felt all the fireworks in the world going off inside his stomach.

“I will prove to you that you can trust me” That was a promise, both for you and for him, at that moment he promised that he would win you over, just like he did the first time, You were the loss of his life for a long time, but now he would have you back

[aihoshiino]

Chp 160 was so??????? that I am straight up unable to form an opinion on it.

Like I can see the story going one of two ways. 'Kamiki is the evil mastermind actually he faked his reaction to the dvd' or 'Kamiki is playing the villian but is actually not the culprit'

And like both directions have massive problems.

The former would mean that the movie (which we spent nearly 40 chapters on) amounted to fucking nothing. Other characters ominous talking about Aqua trying to kill his father with it? Ruby's so called revenge arc? Nah, that meant nothing, the movie didn't do a damn thing.

And while I prefer the latter interpretation as it's the tonally and thematically consistent way, it would also mean that Akasaka has been circle-jerking us with the 'Kamiki is an evil serial killer.' -> 'No wait actually he isn't.' -> 'SIKE, HE IS EVIL.' -> 'Nvm he isn't.' for some inconceivable reason.

It's a mess no matter how you slice it, honestly I am so tired of oshi no ko and I just want it to be over already.

YEAH. THAT'S BASICALLY WHERE I'M AT.

In general, I just don't know why we're having a second confrontation with Kamiki. Narratively and emotionally, it's redundant - having him come back into the story and get his final resolution would be fine but playing out Yet Another Big Dramatic Showdown between him and Aqua just falls so flat for a number of reasons. We've already had the huge release of tension that was Aqua and Kamiki facing off like nearly an entire volume ago and everything that was emotionally riding on that confrontation was emotionally resolved. I know some people are still mad that Aqua didn't hit Kamiki with an orbital laser or something, but the absolute fucking gutpunch that was 153-154 was so incredibly effective and also just more interesting than this much more generic standoff. Not only is it kind of mid on its own merits but I feel like it retroactively makes that first confrontation weaker because like... it ends up not really mattering and we get a take 2 where Kamiki is acting like an entirely different character.

@yuseirra made an excellent point in their discussion of ch159 which is that (thematically speaking) the movie has to be the method by which Aqua achieves his revenge because Ai's tragedy was the result of the public's perception of her. If it isn't able to do that then not only was that arc just kind of a waste of everyone's time, reader and character alike, but it means the movie itself as an object in the narrative loses what little shaky thematic ground it has.

An issue the Movie Arc always had that it never really engaged with to my satisfaction is the underlying discomfort of watching Ai's life being turned into a movie. I said this over and over as the arc was ongoing, but there's something almost repulsive about taking this character whose life was warped and eventually ended up the exploitation of the entertainment industry and the voyeristic gaze of the public and indulging in that voyerism by creating fiction out of her life, chopping it up and outright making shit up to invent a version of her that the public can devour. It claims to be a movie about 'Ai Hoshino' but literally and explicitly fictionalizes the most pivotal events and relationships in her life - the 'Ai' of 15 Year Lie is just as fake as 'Ai of B-Komachi', just sold with an even more insidious lie to make her go down a little sweeter.

If the manga actually engaged with this idea or was even the slightest bit aware of this underlying discomfort, the Movie Arc as a whole would've been much better off for it and so would all the resolutions in the arcs following that rely on it as foundation. But as it stands, the movie is thematically dead on arrival and the fantastic emotional resolutions we got out of it, in spite of everything, have been seemingly retconned into irrelevance.

[kaile-hultner]

GoFundMe Update, 8/12/2024

Hey y'all! it's been about a week since the last GoFundMe update. We've hit a pretty predictable slow period in this fundraiser, a kind of doldrums, but I also got super busy over the last seven days, so it's all good there. So what's been going on in the past week?

To start with, as I mentioned last week I'm down to just one installment loan. This in itself has already made a massive difference just even in terms of how I'm feeling. It no longer feels like I'm being crushed by this massive weight on my shoulders or chest. I know I've mentioned this a lot, but it's such a weird feeling after experiencing the opposite for most of my adult life.

With that, things are already starting to change rapidly: my credit score has gone up 23 points in a week and a half, for example. I hate that this is even something we should have to pay attention to, but I can't help but feel relieved when number go up instead of down. The number of phone calls I'm getting per day, in the evenings, on the weekends - all the debt collection calls - has dropped dramatically. Now it's mostly just spam and companies trying to get me to take out more loans with them. I've experienced a burst of creative energy that has gotten me back in the game-playing-and-reviewing saddle - I just wrote a piece about "A Short Hike" as a donor request fulfillment exercise. (You can check that out here.) I was able to get through an entire weekend of work at my side-gig with no issues or delays—something I haven't been able to say for a few months. And when I finished that work? You'll never believe it, but I didn't feel stressed out or exhausted! I felt normal!

This doesn't automatically catapult me into 24/7 comfortable living, and now I really have to focus on the hard and dirty work of living within my means, building a budget and being an adult when it comes to daily choices, but I always knew that. This GFM has never been the magic bullet that would solve all of my problems - and I've never wanted it to be. However, it's helped assuage such a significant portion of my problems that I can focus on other things for once, and navigating that for the first time has been a pretty significant experience! This comes after months of having to transfer my paycheck from my bank to my Apple Pay account and a litany of other sketchy shit just to make sure it didn't all get swallowed up by various debt repayments and years of sometimes paying rent in parts instead of all at once. With most of that gone and cleared out, I no longer have to do all that! I don't feel like I'm constantly between a rock and a hard place, and that's… honestly pretty significant.

So what's next? Why am I still moving forward with the GFM towards $8000 and eventually $10000+?

Well, as I've said in prior updates, it's still pretty unbelievable that we reached $6500+ and I genuinely have no expectations about getting even a cent more. If nobody else donates, I think I would be pretty pleased with what this GFM was able to accomplish. But I don't think I'm totally out of the woods yet. Thanks to your help, I've upgraded from "basically completely underwater" to "balancing precariously on the edge of the dock," and there's a WORLD of difference between those two states. But that doesn't mean I don't ever again have to worry about the possibility of almost drowning.

Goal 4 would help me pay off my remaining installment loan, and with that close the book on that chapter of my life altogether. I've got these two annoying (paid monthly) loans in the background, but paying $40 and $78 a month respectively for them isn't really all that bad. It's not moving the needle the way these installment loans (paid every two weeks on my payday) were. I'd like to get rid of this final installment loan pretty quickly if possible. I'm currently just a bit under $1400 away from that goal, and I think it's pretty attainable.

Goal 5, $10,000, and Goal 6, $10,000+, are maybe my vaguest goals, so I want to flesh those out a bit. For those goals, I'm thinking of my long-term future more than anything immediate. If I can get anything past $8K, great! That will be money I put into a savings account and start adding to on my own. The reason I'm putting these goals at the end of this GFM is because in a little bit less than a year, I'm looking at the end of a pretty long arrangement I've had at the place I'm living, and the situation is that either rent is going to raise pretty significantly or (more likely) I'm going to be finding a new place to live. Having some money in savings is going to help me out with this in two ways: first, being able to pay a deposit on an apartment or absorb some of the cost of raised rent. Second, being able to put down a down payment on a car. My (smaller) worry is that, even with the radical erasure of my most immediate and crushing debts that this GFM has already afforded me, I may not have enough time to save this kind of money on my own, and/or that my credit score won't heal fast enough to qualify me for cheaper car payments, apartment deposits that aren't an arm and a leg, and so on. For context, I live in Oklahoma, which has a relatively cheap cost of living, but it's practically impossible to get around without a car as OKC's transit system is bootycheeks.

Finally (and least importantly), I promised when I set this GFM up that it would be the last time I asked for money from the Internet for this or any reason, outside of like a medical emergency. I set $10k up as a moonshot goal, something I didn't think it was possible to achieve - and yet here it is, barely $3400 away. If we make it to the end, that's gonna feel like a wild achievement! I'd finally be able to rest easy.

Here's a bad car metaphor I just thought of: you know how when you jump a car, you don't just plug up the jumper cables from one car to another and call it good when the car in need of jumping starts? You have to give it a little bit of extra juice in order for the car to restart its own charging capacity? That's kind of what this GFM is. I'm the car being jumped. The fundraiser is the other car revving its engine and giving me a bit of extra juice after I was able to start my own engine again.

See? told you it was bad.

Anyway, as always, I cannot thank those of you who have already donated enough. None of this would be possible if it wasn't for you, and my inbox is always open if you want to suggest cursed internet artifacts for me to look at. Someone suggested the entire series of Eyewitness children's science documentaries to me. I have no clue if I'll be able to find them. I've been vibing on the theme song for days tho. The only thing I would ask of you at this point is to share this GFM on social media, maybe link back to this update directly, and let's see if we can't find some extra wind for these sails to get us closer to that final goal. If you can't donate, please don't feel pressured to donate! Just reblogging it is more than enough help.

[hestzhyen]

Flower Symbolism in the Edgy Sword Manga pt. 2

Greetings, internet void. It's hanabachi time. (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

Ch. 40: Flower Vase

Thinking matsumoto for the puffy guy near the bottom, to reference patience and elegance. Which seems to apply very well to John Hishaku (at least what we've seen of him so far). He's been sowing seeds for a long time now and is willing to keep waiting for them to sprout. Why else check in on Chihiro just to goad him and then peace out? He's cooking something, and he's willing to spend years doing so.

The one immediately on top of the matsumoto might be another sakurasou for deep desire. John wants something very, very much that has to do with Chihiro and the weapons his dad forged. Enough so that he murdered Kunishige to traumatize Chihiro, did 10 years of work in three to unseal Magatsumi, orchestrated this whole situation at the Rakuzaichi, and who the hell knows what else. What do you want, man?! Being able to wield Magatsumi is a means to an end, the key component... to do what, exactly? What war are you waging here and why? Gosh, I'm looking forward to the end-game with this guy already... as soon as we've had enough suffering and setup to get there.

Lastly, the one to the bottom left of the matsumoto might be a poppy? I'm the least sure of this, but if it's a poppy then it would be there to symbolize victory. John and his group are getting what they want from this shitshow of an auction for sure. It doesn't seem to matter if the Hishaku can personally recover Magatsumi or not, so whether Team Goldfish or the Kamunabi take it in doesn't matter. All has gone to plan- Kyoura was played like a fiddle and became the perfect guinea pig.

The rest are honestly hard to say. A lot of flowers have similar silhouettes and I don't like spitballing. If there's ever an anime adaptation, then seeing colours would help a lot.

Chapter 41: Bloody Field

More irises, and finally a clear shot of some very symbolically loaded flowers: white lilies.

I can't wait to rant about the extra insect stuff from this chapter too aaah

They were almost certainly present in last week's chapter too but I was hesitant to assume without it being shoved in my face. Well, here we are.

White lilies have a lot of meanings ascribed to them- purity being the most prominent. But there other layers that could add context, such as symbolizing spirituality and enlightenment. They're also often used at funerals in several cultures (including in Japan) for sympathy, remembrance… finally, and maybe most interestingly, to convey the sentiment of renewal/rebirth.

I think the last one is the most potent interpretation to ascribe here. It doubles up with the cocoon>butterfly imagery shown when Kyoura tapped in to Magatsumi's power. Kyoura's been reborn as... something. Might also be worth noting that Magatsumi means something like "curved/captured sin" so the lilies contrasting with their most common meaning really makes me feel a certain way. Maybe to symbolize the purity of Kyoura's intentions (in his own mind) while contrasting with the sheer horror of this blade's cursed nature? It could also just be a straight-up screaming at us that Magatsumi is death incarnate.

Anyway, even if it's useless to try and share thoughts about this, I do like looking at what the author might be trying to tell/show us. The best manga artists use stuff like this to give context without interrupting the flow of the story and I love how it's used in Kagurabachi so far.

Sources: https://skdesu.com/en/the-meaning-of-the-flowers-in-japanese/ https://shuncy.com/article/aster-matsumoto-flower https://mylilylife.com/guides/unfolding-the-cultural-meanings-of-lily-flowers/

https://garvillo.com/what-do-white-lilies-mean/

https://greenpacks.org/what-does-the-white-lily-symbolize-in-japan/

Hella's really cool and informative Twitter thread about Magatsumi: https://twitter.com/KaguraShiba/status/1810500858192531694

kipplemaker's clarification on Magatsumi's potential namesake: https://twitter.com/kipplemaker/status/1810252282313019666

[leiflitter]

The Quotable Catton

Aka: More Felixisms from You're Almost Home!

“Now, Lu, are we going to add Childish Gambino to the little list for the DJ? I know he's Farleigh's pal or whatever, but fucking hell it's awful when all the Alexanders try to rap.”

Chapter 36

“You're not allowed to leave my side tonight, okay? Unless you want to- but you don't want to, right? If you have to piss I’ll cover my eyes, I promise, or I can wait outside the door... And you are so fucking cute with my kids, Oliver, they love you so much and I love you and them and-”

Chapter 38

“Go on, then... This should be our song, Ollie, you do make me feel like I'm the only girl in the world- but that's silly. I want us to have a song, Ollie. Can we have a song? What song was playing when we kissed on the stairs? It can't be I love It, that's Harry's Girl Party song, we can't steal that.”

Chapter 39

“Right. Firstly- we’re going back and fixing things, yeah? So that's another thing to clear off, while we're on a roll. Secondly- fucking hell, Ollie, you can't just hide from your parents forever. What are we going to tell our future dog? You can't see your grandparents on Ollie's side because they don't know that he's into fellas? Which goes into point the third. You can't hide me from them either. Not just because I'm an absolute catch, Olls, but because I refuse to sneak around once we've gotten this whole mess sorted out.” 

Chapter 40

“He's five foot eight, actually."

Chapter 41

“It's been good to have him back. Someone who'll tell me off for being a prick and actually make sure I pay attention- he's a professor for a reason, you know…" [...] "Plus he sucks cock like a bloody professional. So, y'know, I'm probably going to try to move him in once Lu's out of the way.”

Chapter 42

“Oh, calm down, Farls- you can give me a smooch too if you're feeling left out." [...] "Come on, totally platonic- please, Doctor Start, help a fellow out? You aren't scared of Ollie germs, are you?”

Chapter 43

“I, er, voted Green last time.” [...] “What? The lady running for MP popped round and she was lovely. And I like recycling.”

Chapter 44

“What the fuck is a Grindr? Like... an angle grinder?” 

Chapter 45

[coquitokisses]

Trusting Again | prologue

Word count: 3325

series masterlist • previous chapter • next chapter

— 2015 —

📍Austria

So after this man tried to kill us all, Sam and I are being the nicest friends Captain America could ask for because while he's out there saving the world, we're on Winter Soldier duty. We've been trying to locate Bucky for a few months now and we finally have a location so we came here. Just the two of us, so the chances of us dying are... pretty high considering we're dealing with a super soldier murder machine.

"You're taking too damn long, dude." I said walking around the hotel room waiting for Sam to give me a location

"It's still searching! Oh my god" he said "Take a seat and shut the hell up, you're making me anxious."

I walked over to a window and stared at the cars outside taking a deep breath.

"Got it." Sam said after a few minutes and I quickly walked over to him

"Where is he?" I asked looking at the computer

"Some street cameras caught him three hours ago."

"Let's go." I went to my backpack and grabbed my guns

I placed them in my holster and then I grabbed my knife putting it in my pocket.

"So you got two options," Sam told me "You either drive almost 4 hours to get there or you fly with me."

"Fine, but drop me and you're dead." I pointed at him with my other knife before putting it away

"Deal." he nodded

Before I could say anything else he dragged me to the balcony and he put his arms around my waist before jumping off making me let out a scream. He opened his wings and we were fucking flying.

"Don't fucking do that again!" I held on to him tighter and wrapped my legs around him

"Such a baby" he rolled his eyes

When we got to the location close to where the cameras caught Bucky, Sam did some more digging and we found where he was staying, it was like an abandoned building, but it didn't looked quite abandoned..? But people live here.

"Are you sure you wanna go in there alone?" He asked, we were on the roof by the way

"Yeah, I'll be fine" I nodded putting on the earpiece "Besides, I need you up here in case anything happens. Just.. be prepared, he already tried to kill me once."

"Be careful."

"Always."

I took out one of my guns and I entered the building, I walked down the stairs checking each floor, each small apartment but there was no sign of Bucky. And boy, there were 40 floors in this shit.

"How are things?" Sam asked through the earpiece

"It just look like a normal apartment complex, it doesn't look like he could be here." I pressed on my earpiece so he could hear me

I went to the next floor and started looking around, but again, nothing. Everything was normal, some of the people had their doors open and again, it really looked normal.

Where the fuck is this guy?

I walked down the stairs to the next floor.

"Can we talk to the people?" I asked Sam

"You wanna ask them?"

"Well.. yeah." I shrugged getting to the next floor "I don't think Bucky has austrian features so if someone has seen him they can tell me."

He sighed. "Alright, ask."

I walked to one of the apartments that had their doors open and I knocked twice on it with one of my knuckles catching an old lady's attention.

"Hi, um.. do you speak English?" I asked

"Yes, love, what do you need?" She walked to the door

"I'm looking for someone.. I believe he lives here but I'm not sure which apartment and I was wondering if maybe you've seen him." I explained and she nodded letting me know to keep going "Uh.. he's tall and has long brown hair, down to his jaw maybe.." I pointed my jaw "And uh, he has bright, steel blue eyes, kinda broad shoulders.. he’s a big dude."

"Oh yes, the man with the cap." She said

"You know him?"

"Yes, yes, he lives downstairs." She nodded "But I don't really know the apartment number."

"That's okay, this was helpful." I said "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome, dear." She smiled

I quickly made my way downstairs to the next floor and I spoke to Sam.

"So I know he lives in this floor, but I don't know where." I spoke pressing on the small earpiece

"You got a pretty good intuition, use it." He replied

I rolled my eyes. "I'll try."

Not a lot of people live here by the looks of it. I walked around and decided to ask a man that was sitting just outside his apartment and thank god I did. I walked over to the apartment that the man told me and tried opening it but it was locked so I took out one of my bobby-pins and tried picking the lock, after a few tries I got the door open so I got in. Mentally preparing myself in case this guy decides to kill me.. which most likely will happen.

I walked inside and saw that there was a mattress on the floor next to a small sofa, some empty bottles on the table and on the kitchen counter.

"I think I found it." I said to Sam

"You think?"

"This is it, yeah." I nodded walking over to the table

"Is he there?" He asked

"No, I don't think so" I said looking over at some newspapers that were there

"Be careful, Cat."

I moved the papers away and there was one of those comic books of Captain America from back in the 40s and I also saw some old pictures along with a little notepad. When I grabbed it I heard the door creaking so I quickly took one of my knifes out and turned around immediately trowing it towards the door, only for Bucky to catch it with his metal hand. But in his other hand he had a gun.

"I'm not gonna hurt you." I said to him as relaxed as possible even tho I was terrified

"Oh yeah? Then what's this?" He threw the knife in my direction causing it to be nailed on the table

"Just a precaution." I grabbed my gun in my holster

"Uh-uh." He shook his head after seeing my action

"Then put the gun down."

"You're the one trespassing." He raised an eyebrow

Well he was kinda right. But I couldn't care less.

"How'd you find me?" He asked closing the door with his foot

"Well we've been keeping an eye on you since DC." I said, my hand was still on the gun

"Why are you here?" He took a few steps closer so I took a few back

"Why don't you put the gun down so we can talk?"

"Why don't you?" He looked down at my holster

He looked back up at me, straight in the eyes, and if I was fucking nervous just by being here, you can imagine how nervous I am now that he's just feet away from me while pointing a gun at me.

"You're very defensive." I sighed

He scoffed. "Look who's talking"

"Put the gun down, Barnes."

"You first, agent."

His eyes never left mine, not even for a second. I debated with myself for a few seconds before agreeing.

"Fine." I took a deep breath and then I lifted my hands

He lowered his arm and put the gun on the back of his pants, I put the safety back on the holster

"You're scared." He said walking towards the kitchen and he left the bag he had on the counter

"Well can you blame me? Last time we saw each other you tried to kill me."

"Then why are you here?" He asked

"I'm working with Steve, I'm sure you know him." I said and he looked at me

"I don't."

"Don't lie." I scoffed "You saved his life, now why would you do that if you don't remember who he is?"

"I just felt like I had to." He replied "Some part of me knew him and I knew that." He turned around to face me "Is he okay?"

"He is." I nodded "What are you doing here?"

"Well no offense but that's none of your business, agent..?"

"Navarro." I rolled my eyes "And no offense to you but after you tried to kill us I think I'm entitled to know what may be your next move."

"There's no next move." He said "I'm just trying to figure out who I am exactly."

"We can help you."

"With all due respect, how do I know I can trust you after what happened?"

"We're the good guys here, okay?"

"Are you?" He raised an eyebrow

"We're not the ones turning people into killing machines and ordering kills everywhere." I said and he scoffed

"You sure about that?" He frowned a little "You don't look much like any ordinary agent, miss Navarro, with all due respect."

"You don't know me, Barnes." I folded my arms

"No but I think I know a killer when I see one." He nodded slowly "After all, takes one to know one, right?"

"You're very quiet, is everything okay down there?" I heard Sam’s voice

"Give me a sec." I responded to him

"You didn't come alone." Bucky said "Smart."

"Listen, we wanna help you."

"Unfortunately I don't think you can."

"Look, Steve knows how I work and what I'm capable of and when I said I would find you, I meant it." I said "And I don't leave things halfway done."

"Then I guess you're gonna have to do it this one time."

"No I don't think so." I shook my head "You're coming with us whether you like it or no."

"I'm not coming with you." He said

Who does he think he's talking to?

"Why not?" I asked

"I just.. I need time." He sighed "Look, I'm not planning on killing anybody if that's what you're all worried about, that's not who I am."

"We don't know that."

"I'm telling you I won't do it." He said "Just trust me."

"Trust you?" I raised an eyebrow

"Oh the irony." He scoffed "And you want me to trust you? When you don't even trust me."

"Well no offense but given your reputation I don't think anyone would trust you."

"Steve would." He said "If you're here risking your life coming to find me, I assume it's because you're close with him because no one is that dumb to go after the Winter Soldier alone"

"I'm not alone."

"You know what I mean." He rolled his eyes

"And yeah, we're close."

"Then trust him, okay?" He said

Honestly, I could see in his eyes that he really wasn't a bad person. And I gotta say, even tho I was terrified when I saw him walking in here, I'm feeling a whole lot more calm now. He's not so bad when he's not a psychotic killer, I feel like he actually was being genuine about all this. Like he really means it and he actually doesn't mean any harm. Or at least for now. I can't believe I'm saying this but I believe him.

"I can't leave empty handed." I sighed "And I don't lie when it comes to my job so don't even think I'm gonna lie for you."

"You won't." He said

"I can't exactly just let you go."

"Well then why don't you actually try and stop me?"

"Stop you?" I scoffed "Look, I.."

"I'll help you, make it look like you actually tried to stop me if you let me go."

"I can't do that." I shook my head

"Like you haven't broken some rules before."

"It's not that, we're talking about screwing with the mission."

"I'm not going with you, miss Navarro and I think you know I'm serious."

I let out a sigh trying to think what the hell I was supposed to do now. He was serious about not coming with me and to be quite honest, I don't feel like fighting him on this, but I also don't want to go knowing that I didn't do anything to bring him.

"I want you to know that I don't do this, like, ever." I spoke "But I think I can manage to let you go if you're actually being honest about not killing anyone."

He sighed. "I don't want to kill anybody."

"For some.. dumb reason, I think I trust you." I ran my hand over my face "This is insane."

"So you're letting me go?" He asked

"I am, yes." I let out a sigh "But you gotta help me out."

"Deal." He nodded "I'll go easy on you."

"Not too easy." I rolled my eyes "Gotta make it believable."

God.. I'm in so much trouble.

He took some steps closer to me and I didn't have another choice than to pick up my gun.

He closed his fist and before he could hit me, I shot him but he blocked the bullet with his metal arm. He then grabbed me by the arm and threw me on the floor.

"Cat, is everything okay?" Sam asked, I'm assuming he heard the gunshot

"What the fuck?" I groaned and looked at Bucky

"You said you had to make it believable" he said "Well you are."

"You're crazy." I stood up from the floor and he grabbed me by the arms

He threw me to the other side of the living room and I took out my knife, he came onto me and grabbed me by the throat but I cut him in the arm.

"Ah!" He groaned and I pushed him getting him off me "That was very bold of you, you know that?"

What? I panicked.

He lifted me up by the shoulders and pressed me against a wall next to the kitchen cabinets, making me hit my head pretty hard tho. He reached his hand up and I saw him taking out a backpack from the top of the cabinets, then he. grabbed me by the shoulders pulling me away from that wall and pushing me into another one, his face was really close to mine and I was very nervous. Even tho I knew deep down he wasn't really trying to kill me this time.

"Just tell them you lost me." He said before cutting my arm with his knife

But the cut felt pretty deep. Well I can't complain, I did cut him pretty deep too.

"Ah shit." I winced pushing him away and he ran over to the balcony "Wait!"

Before I could say something else, he jumped off the balcony. I quickly made my way over there just to see him disappearing into an alley.

I can't believe I just did this. I let him go. You had one fucking job, Catalina, just the one.

And I decided to let him go. This is a first.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." I mumbled to myself "I lost him." I said to Sam as I pressed the earpiece so he could hear me

"What do you mean you lost him? Where'd he go?"

"He jumped off the balcony." I said "Ah motherf.. oh that asshole." I winced leaning on the wall

"What happened? Did you fight him?" He asked worried

"Something like that." I sighed

"Did you see where he went?"

"No, I was too busy pulling myself together." I lied walking back inside and saw that he left everything on the table "I'm coming back up, just give me a sec."

I walked over to the table and saw that the comic book and the pictures were still there. I looked around for the little notepad but I didn't find it anywhere so I guess he took it with him. I grabbed the comic book and I opened it, took the pictures and put them inside before grabbing the book and my knife and then I walked out of the place.

I walked up the stairs back to the roof and when Sam saw me, he quickly walked towards me.

"Are you okay?" He asked

"Yeah." I nodded "I found this tho." I gave the comic book to him "Look inside."

He opened it and saw the pictures. By the way, the pictures were like the ones on the museum in DC. They were of the Howling Commandos and Captain America and all of that stuff from back in the 40s.

"We gotta bring these back to Steve." He said and I nodded "How the hell did you lost him?"

"Well he's a fucking super soldier, what do you expect?" I rolled my eyes "He threw me across the room and left."

"Oh my god." He sighed

"We'll find him again, don't worry." I said "Now let's leave, my body's sore and I'm getting hungry."

"Did you talk to him?"

"Yes, I did."

"How was he acting tho?"

"I think he's going to places he has been before, that explains why he's here." I said "I think he may be remembering things with time, but maybe he's trying to jog his memory too by going to these places."

"Well makes sense, these are the same pictures that are at the museum." He looked at the pictures "And assuming he went there well then he knows pretty much how everything went down before HYDRA took him."

"Exactly." I nodded

"He needs help, Cat, he can't just go jump from one place to another trying to jog his memory."

"Technically he can, Sam, it's not illegal." I sighed

"He's probably doing things illegally."

"The man doesn't want our help, he made it clear when he threw me across the room." I rolled my eyes "Besides, I think he just needs time."

"Time? What, are you crazy?" He looked at me "Time for what?"

"To wrap his head around the fact that he's been an assassin for the last few decades." I said "All these years, they were wiping his memory and sending him on missions, the man didn't even recognized his childhood best friend, for god's sake."

"Why are you all of a sudden on his side? We're talking about a HYDRA assassin who, by the way, tried to kill all of us."

Yeah, what the fuck? Why am I on his side? He tried to fucking kill me when he appeared at SHIELD last time.

"He's not just an assassin, he's Steve's best friend."

"He was an assassin for HYDRA."

"He's a victim, Sam." I crossed my arms "Any sane person is gonna realize that."

"We don't know what he's gonna do, Cat." He said "There are probably people from HYDRA who survived, what if someone finds him?"

"I know that! Just.." I sighed

Maybe I made a mistake in letting him go.

I don't know why but something about him told me that he meant what he said. And to be honest, I do believe he was being honest, I don't usually do this but let's be real, the man has gone through some serious shit, give him a break. And Sam's right too, I mean, I see his point, he doesn't trust him completely after what happened and that's understandable. But I talked to him and I felt.. I just felt that he was being genuine about what he said.

"What?" Sam asked

"Let's just go." I ran my fingers through my hair "We need to tell Steve."

"Wait, you're bleeding." He grabbed my wrist watching the cut on my arm

"I'm fine." I said letting go

"Come on, let's go."

And just how we arrived here, we left the same way, flying. My body was a little sore actually.

Let's just hope the guys don't find out about this or else Steve is never gonna talk to me again.

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[dont-call-me-baby-posts]

Blacking Out and Breaking Hearts - Chapter 37

Blacking Out and Breaking Hearts - Master List

Word Count: 19K

Warnings: sex drugs and rock n roll baby!! But on a real note there's also some mental health stuff in here so be warned!!!!

Summary: Y/N is a successful musician, trying to navigate the world of stardom along with her complicated feelings for her best friend, Harry.

Alternatively: The one with some closure.

A/N: Hey guys :) Long time no see.

This chapter is starting to tie up all of our loose ends; we need happy endings for everyone! I kind of flip between alllllll the characters in this chapter so we can see a little bit of what they're all doing. Sorry its a little long! As always, please let me know what you think!

Here's what we've got lined up for the rest of the story:

chapter 38 will probably be around 16k of straight smut, plus an ending. 39 and 40 will be the epilogue and then we'll have as many blurbs as y'all want! thank you again everyone who still loves this story! I can't wait to finally see it through with you guys :)

Chapter 37

Rachel wasn’t a confrontational person.

She couldn’t tell if it was just the fact that she’d been born and raised to sit still, look pretty, and be pleasant, or if that was just the personality she’d been cursed with. Either way, she had been soft for as long as she could remember. She was kind and nurturing and never raised her voice, but that also meant she was constantly being stepped over, talked over, and told exactly what to do. She felt like a show dog who never learned to play fetch; all she was meant to do was sit, or speak, or jump. 

That was one of the many, many reasons she loved Logan so much. She was almost the complete opposite of Rachel; She never held her tongue, she never let anyone step on her toes, and she said what she meant with her chest. She was everything Rachel wanted to be and couldn’t. She was strong and brave and also soft in her own way without being weak. 

For some reason, the news of Harry and Y/N’s inevitable rekindling didn’t bring Rachel the same warm, sappy feelings it did for everyone else. Sure, she was happy for them… But she had to fake the excitement in her voice while she listened to Logan go on and on about how amazing it was that her best friend had finally “gotten the balls” to open up to Harry and fix the “good thing they had”. 

Instead of the nice, bubbly feeling Rachel knew she was supposed to have, she felt something else entirely. Something wicked and foreign and almost sinister. Because you know what? Rachel and Logan had a good thing, too, and yet here they were tiptoeing around and lying and covering up every track they left behind them. Here they were, going on nearly two months without having seen each other. Here they were, happy and in love and almost entirely secret.

She didn’t talk to Logan before she did what she did next. It was almost like she was possessed by someone else, someone like her beautiful, talented girlfriend who was brave and bold and decisive. She hung up the phone, after having spent a better part of an hour insisting that she was over the moon for Y/N when in reality she was feeling quite bitter and jealous and angry, and sat motionless on her bed for another 45 minutes. Then, as if someone else had come to rest their hand on her shoulder, she stood up and walked down the stairs to where she knew her parents were enjoying cocktails and fancy little finger foods. 

(She, as she marched down the marble stairs, thought how interesting it was that her parents were still having guests over in the height of a global pandemic but insisted it wasn’t “safe” for her to go see Logan. Funny, she thought to herself. Hilarious, really! If Rachel didn’t know any better, she'd suspect they had different motives keeping her away from Logan! Imagine that!)

And then, still guided by some outside force completely out of her control, she found herself in the middle of the expansive kitchen of her parents enormous house, surrounded by at least 20 people she only sort of knew. People who ran companies her parents invested in or directed movies Rachel never bothered to watch or owned record labels that fucked over people like Logan and Y/N. She, in her pajama pants and hair undone, face bare of any makeup whatsoever, slapped her palms on the cool of the island counter and found herself smiling. Cheesing, actually. Nearly giddy with excitement. 

Her mom noticed her last, letting out what could be considered a gasp as she turned to see her perfect, hand-moulded daughter in front of all these people looking the way she did now. Hair thrown up on top of her head, not clean. Logan’s oversized t-shirt over her narrow frame, covered in various stains. (The stains were an homage to the exciting, vibrant life Logan had lived before they met, one that Rachel would never experience or understand. Stains from house parties in basements and 9-5 jobs and public school. Rachel loved the spots where the material was stained blue or purple with paint, or slightly torn from a fight Logan had gotten into with some girl from Junior year. None of Rachel’s clothes had stains. Not any of them. It was almost as if she’d never existed at all.)

It was after the gasp that Rachel’s mother said: “Oh! Oh, wow! Sweetheart, why don’t you go upstairs and get dressed and you can join us for dessert?”

Rachel, quick with a response she hadn’t taken any time to think over or plan, shook her head. Her smile didn’t falter. 

“Actually, mom, I don’t think I will.”

Nervous laughter, from everywhere. It came in small spurts, someone else’s uncomfortable chuckle filling the silence one after the other. 

“Okay, well…” Her mom started, letting out her own high pitched chortle. “Why don’t you-“

“I’m going to see Logan.” Rachel interrupted. (She couldn’t remember one other time she had ever cut someone off while they were speaking, but she was already far from her usual self tonight). Rachel looked around at the confused faces around her, “Logan is my girlfriend.” She clarified with a smile. Her mom laughed tightly again. 

“Oh, no, she’s-“

“Yes, mom. Logan is my girlfriend and I’m going to go see her. I think I might stay there a while, actually. With the virus and everything, you know, I figure it would be safer than staying here with all of your lovely guests.”

Now she’d done it. Her mothers face changed shades three times over, going from pink to red to a stark white that for some reason made Rachel feel even better than she already did. Her mom, after a quick excuse to her friends, walked herself up the stairs, knowing Rachel would follow. 

When she got to Logan’s house later that night she didn’t recount the events of the evening. She didn’t tell her what her mom had said, all the threats she’d whispered under her breath. She didn’t tell her how she’d cried the whole time packing her bags, or how her dad had run out after her telling her to think it over or sleep on it. She didn’t tell Logan that her mom had, in her own words, told her she wasn’t welcome back in their home if she did anything “unsavory”. She didn’t tell Logan that she’d essentially been cut off by her parents when she told her mom she was going public with her relationship. She didn’t feel that she needed to, not yet at least. 

Rachel didn’t need her family's money. She was successful in her own right, and the whole pandemic had given her a chance to start thinking about careers other than modeling, anyway. She didn’t take time to think it over. She didn’t have to. 

///

Logan was snuggled in her bed when Rachel knocked on the door. At first she wasn’t sure what she’d heard, knowing she had already had her daily DoorDash interaction and wasn’t expecting anything or anyone else. The second knock came once Logan had sat up in bed, ears perked and skin prickly with nervous goosebumps. 

To say she was surprised was a massive fucking understatement. She’d never been so happy. She threw herself into Rachel, whose arms were slung with bags, and didn’t notice the way her cheeks were still a little puffy. She tugged her inside and she sat her down on the couch before running to the kitchen to whip up some of Rachel’s favorite cookies. 

Rachel could’ve cared less about the cookies, but she knew Logan wouldn’t take no for an answer. So, she sat backwards on the couch, gazing into the kitchen just watching the love of her life pant and stress and measure and stir. She’d never looked more beautiful, Rachel thought. Never ever ever. 

They stayed on the couch the rest of the night, catching up and kissing and saying over and over how they’d missed one another. Next to a half eaten tray of cookies is where Logan helped Rachel pick out all their favorite photos together for Rachel to post on Instagram. A post dedicated to her girlfriend. And in a way, a post dedicated to herself. 

And it was that easy. After so many months of lying and hiding and longing desperately for what all these other couples had, Rachel had it. She was free. She was cut-off and angry and hurt and scared but before all of that she was free. And, now, she was out. 

///

You didn’t see Rachel’s post, or Logan’s texts, or the countless tweets breaking the internet. You were… preoccupied. 

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like that.” Harry praised, running a hand through your hair to rest on the back of your skull. “So fucking pretty. Fucks sake.”

You hummed around him, running your hands up the length of his thighs to rest on the soft part of his hips. Harry was laid back against the headboard, body at a slope while you nestled yourself between his parted thighs. Your head bobbed softly around his length, his hand applying no extra pressure but still making your scalp tingle warmly. You weren’t in any hurry, your movements slow and sleepy and delicate. Harry hummed softly above you, telling you again and again that you were so pretty, so pretty, so fucking good. 

The last few days had gone pretty much like this. You’d wake up wrapped up in Harry’s gangly limbs, kiss his eyelids open, and stay in bed until one of you was desperate enough to go pee or eat. You’d sometimes lay in bed and talk or make out or, on days like this one, you’d shuffle yourself down the length of Harry’s body and take him into your mouth like you were starved. Harry would do the same for you, usually pulling you by your hips up his torso and onto his face or bending his leg just enough so you could situate yourself on top of his tiger tattoo and curl into his chest until you came. 

Life was so good. Everything was perfect. Harry was an angel, as usual. The weather was just right for leaving the windows open. No one texted you or called you about meetings or bothered you. It was just you and Harry and a kind of calm contentment you hadn’t felt in years. 

You still hadn’t had sex, but after listening in on Harry’s conversation with Anders you decided not to push it. You thought maybe if you just proved yourself to him, he’d be ready. You didn’t mind giving him time, even though you secretly hoped each night you curled up next to him that he might take you right there and press your face into the mattress until you couldn’t think or even speak. You would never ever want him to do something he didn’t want to, and he was giving you more than enough to hold you over. In fact, the amount of affection and love and attention he’d showered you with the last few days had been enough to last a lifetime. Not a second went by that you didn’t know with every singular cell in your body how much he loved you. He wouldn’t allow it. 

Even when you had a nightmare a few days before, Harry had been awake and alert the moment you needed him. You didn’t even have time to get to the worst part of the dream and startle yourself awake before he’d pulled you on top of his body and began whispering in your ears. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and his legs around your thighs, tying you to his front. You weren’t scared when you woke up and didn’t pull away from the touch. “I’m right here.” He’d whispered, shifting his weight to rock you slightly. “I’m right here. It’s okay, flower. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.”

He must have heard you mumbling his name in your sleep, the same way you always did when you had these nightmares. You called his name like always and he was there. You were calm and back to sleep in a matter of minutes, something you wouldn’t have even thought possible a few months ago. 

And now, on another beautiful morning, you were leaving the half-moon indents of your nails on the inside of Harry’s thighs. Feeling more alive than ever. On top of the world. Like the luckiest girl alive. 

///

Anders wasn’t sure what to do with himself. 

He’d not been doing his weekly therapy sessions like he was meant to, and hadn’t been for weeks. Talking about his feelings with some stiff old man was bad enough, and doing it over a Zoom call was just downright unbearable. He’d rather do anything else, and so he did. He crocheted and wrote songs and annoyed his parents to no end practicing his trumpet from middle school. He painted and talked to Harry and Y/N and learned the dances from three separate Justin Bieber music videos to a fucking T. He kept himself busy by any means necessary, because he had to. He even built a tiny house for a lady bug he found on his window still out of a cereal box. The ladybug died the next morning, but Anders liked to think it died comfortably at least. 

But on this day, Anders was inclined by some outside force (perhaps the same force that had moved Rachel all the way in LA) to find his laptop under all the dirty laundry and half-finished projects on the floor and open up the stupid fucking website and message his stupid fucking therapist that he was actually going to show today. 

He found himself talking about Y/N, and Jena, and Macy from the grocery store. (She’d been the one to stop him from nearly overdosing that day he’d bought all those drugs, after all. He thought about her all the time lately. He thought about her every time he ate one of his oranges he’d bought that day, which was a lot. His mom told him he had to finish the entire bag as some sort of fucked up punishment, he supposed). His therapist, with his cable knit sweater and glasses slid half-way down his nose, had to basically force Anders to talk about his parents. 

“It sucks, man. What else do you want to know?”

The doctor, Dale, narrowed his eyes at Anders’ answer to his question about how things were ‘at home’. When he realized Anders wasn’t going to continue, he sighed and lifted his hands. 

“Could you be any more specific about what sucks so bad, man?” Dale retorted. Over the weeks that Anders had spent with him before the pandemic, Dale had learned it worked better if he talked to Anders the way Anders talked to him. Dale thought, genuinely, that they bonded this way. Anders just thought it was funny. 

“Everything about it sucks.” Was all he could think to say in return. 

By the end of the session, Dale had somehow convinced him that spending more time with his parents might help. If he didn’t put so much space between them, he said, he may feel less suffocated. So, in a desperate fucking attempt to feel a little less crazy, Anders decided to do just that. 

Every night his dad would hobble up the stairs and knock softly on the door and invite Anders to dinner, and every night Anders would decline. (Ever since the incident with the drugs, Andy couldn’t stand looking either of them in the eyes.) When Anders would inevitably turn him away, his dad would say something about how he would save some if he changed his mind and Anders would mumble a quick “thank you” and that would be that. He knew his dad was trying his best, and he believed it when he said he missed Anders and wanted to spend time with him. His mom never made any attempt to talk to him after the drug incident. Anders was okay with that, he thought.

To put it plainly, Anders’ dad was fucking bamboozled when he accepted his offer to come to dinner later that night. He’d been leaning against the door, his ear pressed to the wood to hear Anders’ response when it had been thrown open to showcase a bright-eyed and surprisingly content son on the other side. “I’d like that.” Anders smiled, feeling like this was his first big step into fixing everything. “Thank you for asking.”

His dad had followed him down the steps, even the sound of his socked feet on the stairs sounding confused. Anders spun around the corner into the kitchen, throwin’ a little razzle dazzle on his triumphant return to the family unit as he found a seat at the table. He leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. He felt almost excited to be here. 

“Whatcha makin’?”

His mom, at the sound of her only son’s voice, turned to face him and froze, serving spoon still in hand and dripping twice onto the tiled floor before she looked back at her husband. 

“I told you I didn’t make enough for three.” She said to him.

Oh. 

And, just like that, it was over. The high Anders had felt following his talk with Dale fizzled out and settled into an ache in his abdomen. He was stunned for a second, looking back and forth between his parents. Surely he misunderstood. 

“I’m sure there’s enough.” His dad said, an over the top sunshine in his voice. When she didn’t answer right away his dad spoke again, his sunshine feeling a bit more shaded. “He wants to have dinner with us, hun.”

“Well, there’s not enough.” She reiterated, literally throwing her spoon onto the stove. “If he wanted to eat he should’ve said something. Since when does he want to spend time with us?”

“He can have mine, then.”

Before anyone else could speak, Anders stood up. He felt so small and yet too big, like he was taking up too much space no matter how far he folded into himself. 

“It’s alright, Dad.” Anders smiled, turning to face his mom. She met his eyes, finally, though she couldn’t have looked more uninterested. “I have oranges upstairs.”

And he turned and walked back up the same stairs to his same room and collapsed on that same bed he spent all day every day in. He could hear the bickering, just like when he was a child. He covered his head with a pillow but he could still hear them. 

“That was cruel.”

“He doesn’t want anything to do with us! Why should I continue making him dinner if he never eats any? I’m tired of cleaning out the tupperwares you insist on saving for him.”

“I’ll clean them, then.”

There was a pause. Dishes clanging in the sink. 

“Why do you do this? Why do you defend him after the way he’s talked to us?”

“You’re holding him hostage here! What is he supposed to do?”

“Be grateful, I don’t know!”

Anders turned under his covers. He decided already he wouldn’t cry, but it was threatening to gurgle out of him anyway. 

“He is our son. We’re supposed to be helping. You read all those books… You- you went to classes! And now you’re not even going to let the boy eat?”

“I'm tired of the books! I'm tired of the classes, and the coddling, and the fighting! I give up. I give up, okay? I’m done!”

“You give up? Haven’t we failed the boy enough?”

“He failed us! We gave him everything. He could’ve been anything and, and, and… and look at him! You’re proud of that? I’m tired of feeling responsible for how he turned out. He did that on his own.”

“Damn right I’m proud. He may have his… struggles, but he is not a failure. The boys a goddamn rockstar!”

“He’s not a rockstar, he’s a junkie. And I��m tired of pretending that he’s not.”

Now, to anyone else hearing this conversation, there’s a few things you might miss. 

Number one:  Anders’ dad never cursed. He had, in all of his son’s life, uttered at most 4 curse words and even that was a stretch. Him using the word “damn”, and taking the lord's name in vain? Anders’ could’ve thought hell had finally frozen over! 

Number two: Anders couldn’t remember a single time in his life that either of his parents had said they were proud of him. So, even if he hadn’t said it to his face, his dad saying those words was like winning the fucking lottery. 

Number three: In all of his years as a semi-professional drug addict, Anders had never been called a junkie by anyone. He hadn’t even seen it online, and he was called his fair share of names. So, to hear his mom say it… It was like a kick in the back of the head. It was like a blow right in his chest. It was worse than going to therapy and making phone calls and being punched in the nose. It was worse than anything he’d ever felt before. 

He sprang up out of bed, grabbing his car keys and stuffing his feet into the nearest pair of shoes. He sauntered down the stairs, making no attempt to hide his presence. The conversation in the kitchen stopped as both parties watched him. With a captive audience, Anders thought, it was the perfect time to put on the performance of a lifetime. 

“I’m heading out.” He said, spinning the keys around his finger. “Don’t know when I’ll be back.”

Anders, when his mom said nothing, thought he might have been hoping she would stop him. She didn’t. 

“I would ask you not to wait up, but seeing as you’ve already eaten I suppose you’re about ready for bed.” He continued. His dad followed him to the door. 

“Do you want me to come with you?” He said, stopping a few feet away from Anders as if he was some feral cat that might be startled away. “We can go grab a bite somewhere. It would be nice to spend some time together.”

Anders actually thought about it. His dad, who his entire life had stood by like some decorative piece of furniture, was finally doing what Anders had always wished he would.

“I’m just going to go do some shopping, but maybe we could watch a movie tomorrow, okay?”

His dad smiled, a real smile, and nodded. “Okay, son.”

“Okay.” He said back. 

Anders gave one last look to his mom, waiting. Any second now she’d say sorry and tell him not to go. She’d tell him at the very least to be careful, or be home by 10. She didn’t. 

“I’ll be home by 10.” He decided for himself. Maybe she’d hold him to it. Maybe she’d call a hundred times if he wasn’t home in two hours. Maybe she’d do what she used to and demand he be home by 9 instead. 

She didn’t say anything. She turned back into the kitchen and continued clanging against the pots and pans she had on the stove. His dad gave him a sad, knowing look, but forced a smile anyway. 

“Call me if you need anything.” He said, giving a quick slap on the shoulder. “I’ll still be up when you get home if you decide you want to hang out. Be safe, okay?”

Anders nodded and because he was possessed by some much more kind hearted spirit tonight he wrapped his arms around his father with an awkward pat-pat on his shoulder blades. His dad took the opportunity to hug him tightly against his chest, even ruffling Anders’ hair the way he had when he was only a kid. 

“I trust you.” He whispered. “And I’m sorry.”

///

The drive to Taco Bell didn’t take too long. Anders turned at the second stop light, hooked a left by the library, and took two more rights until he had made his way into the drive thru. He was the only car there, which was fitting. 

He ordered himself two soft tacos, a quesadilla, a cheesy gorrida crunch, and three spicy potato soft tacos. Instead of bringing it home he sat in the empty parking lot and ate there. He wasn’t hungry anymore after the first two tacos but he forced himself to eat the rest anyway. He kept eating and eating and even when it hurt he kept going. He didn’t need his mom to feed him when he could feed himself, he kept thinking. He didn’t need anyone when he could take care of himself. He was eating, wasn’t he? As long as he was eating it was proof he didn’t need anyone at all! He was doing just fine.

When he’d finished the last scraps of food, he nestled himself further into his seat. It was 9:55. His mom would call any minute. 

He tried to call Y/N, but she didn’t answer. He tried calling Rachel. No answer. He almost called Logan, but knew he wouldn’t have shit to talk about with her. He was about to call Harry when he changed his mind, not really in the mood for someone who was going to try to fix his problems instead of just listening. He settled on sitting and waiting instead (for what, he wasn’t sure), watching the clock change numbers. He didn’t even put on any music. 

He bent forward, picking at a spot of dried paint on his pant leg. He hadn’t even noticed the red splotch there before, the paint somehow reaching his ankle while he painted a portrait of his now deceased lady bug that morning. He kept picking at it but somehow made it worse, chips of red shoved under his nails so deeply it was starting to hurt and the stain now more deeply embedded into the fibers of his sweats. He kept trying and trying and it just got worse and worse and it hurt more and more but he needed the stain out. He needed it out. It had to come out. 

When he looked up again, it was 10:37. His mom never called. The red paint was still on his pants. 

///

You’d already cum twice before you picked up your phone that morning. After Harry had finished, he’d pulled you up onto him (as he was in the habit of doing), nestling his face against your belly as he pressed kisses into the spaces under your hip bones. 

You didn’t even notice all of the missed messages and the chaos online until Harry left to go to the bathroom an hour or two later. You were still foggy-headed and naked when you finally picked up your phone, quickly propping yourself up on an elbow when you realized that while you’d been busy apparently the entire world had turned upside down. 

You sprang out of bed, nearly slipping as you hauled yourself down the hallway and into the bathroom where Harry had just finished washing his hands and was getting ready to brush his teeth. 

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!” You were spitting out, scaring the ever loving fuck out of Harry. He jumped almost out of his skin, smearing toothpaste on cheek. 

“What is it?” He questioned, free hand pressed to his chest in shock. “Is everything okay?”

You just shook your head, scrolling through the 40 messages Logan had sent so far that morning. (Or, really, that night for Logan). 

“Everyone knows about Logan and Rachel.” You finally said, setting your phone down on the counter and tangling your fingers into your hair as you shoved it out of your face. Harry froze mid-brush, his face flashing with panic before settling into a determined, problem-solving stare.

(Harry had been in the habit of doing that lately. Something about him just seemed so much more at ease, more sensible, more calm. He was so much slower to boil. He had a tranquility about him that you hadn’t noticed before.)

“Someone outted them?” He asked, setting his toothbrush down on the counter. He cringed for a second, shaking his head. “Do you know who it was? I can talk to my team about having my lawyers reach out to them, not that Rachel doesn’t have her own lawyers…”

You stared back at him, confused. “Oh, no…” You started, letting out a small chuckle. “They didn’t-”

“I’ll talk to Logan myself if she already said no, but I can’t just let that happen to them.” Harry grimaced again, leaning his elbows on the counter. “Is she okay? Is Rachel okay? That’s so fucked up that someone would do that.”

“Rachel did it.” You stopped him, cutting him off before he completely spiraled. “She posted on Instagram. Apparently she’s moving into the house with Logan. Her, uh, her parents…”

“Right.” Harry said, letting out a huff. He paused for a second, acting like he was about to speak again before stopping. It only took him a second for him to change his mind, turning his body to face you and resting a hand on the counter. “It’s really fucking convenient of these parents to just kick their kids to the curb like this, innit? And for no fucking reason. It’s so fucked up.”

You closed the gap between your bodies, wrapping your arms around Harry’s waist as he put his attention back towards brushing his teeth. “If it makes you feel any better, Logan says Rachel’s okay. She never liked living with her parent’s anyway, so she says they both just feel relieved.”

Harry hummed along, bending forward slightly to spit into the sink. “Are people being nice to them? Online and allat?”

You pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades, meeting his eyes in the mirror ahead of you. You nodded. 

“They’re being very nice.” You told him. “They’re trending on Twitter.”

///

Harry left a few minutes later, making you promise not to shower without him. You agreed, sending him off with a kiss and a promise that you’d join him on his next run. You didn’t mean it, but Harry still seemed satisfied as he headed out. 

You’d been so distracted by the whole Logan/Rachel situation that you almost forgot Anders had called you until you were snuggled up back in bed. You figured since Harry would be back soon to take a shower that you would wait to get dressed and have a few extra minutes in the swaddle of covers on Harry’s bed. So, back in your snug little cocoon, you decided to give Anders a call back. 

“HEY FUCKER.” Anders yelled into the receiver almost the second you’d pressed the call button. You giggled to yourself, pressing the phone between your ear and the pillow.

“Hey sweet pea. What’s up?” You asked, letting your eyes flutter closed. You could hear some kind of… banging on the other end, though it didn’t particularly surprise you considering who you were talking to. “What are you building a fucking rocking chair or something?”

“Its a shelf, actually.” He corrected, swinging what you assumed to be a hammer a few times before continuing. “I’ve almost got it all finished, I just need to add some final touches.”

“Oh…” You started, deciding whether or not you should even ask. “That sounds… fun?”

“It’s keeping me busy, at least. I got in a fight with my mom again so I decided to take matters into my own hands.” He swung the hammer again before letting out a sigh. “She wanted to act like a bitch and not let me eat dinner so I thought, y’know, okay. I’ll go buy some fuckin’ groceries and a shelf and I’ll feed my fucking self. I got a mini fridge and everything.”

You paused, unsure what to say next. As close as you and Anders were, Harry was normally the person that he went to to talk about his family stuff, and you weren’t sure exactly how to navigate it. 

“Why wouldn’t she let you eat?”

“Because she hates me.”

“She doesn’t-”

“No, she does.” Anders stopped you, chuckling to himself. “But I’m okay with it. Kinda come to terms with it, you know?”

It got quiet for a second, both of you unsure what to say next. 

“She called me a junkie.” Anders added, instantly making your skin itch all over. You tried not to but let out an audible gasp, your hand not quick enough to stop it before it came out. “She said all kinds of stuff, actually. But it’s cool.”

What were you even supposed to say to make this any better? “You aren’t a junkie, Anders.”

“No, I am.” He brushed you off. “It’s all good though, seriously. You don’t have to make me feel better or anything. I just wanted to talk to you is all.”

“Okay.. Well, if you were wanting to talk to Harry he should be home in a little bit…”

“Harry? No, no..” Anders responded. “I just want to talk to you for a bit if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, totally.” You rushed out, realizing too late how desperate you must sound. “I mean, for sure. I can talk.”

///

Anders filled you in on the rest of his night, telling you all about how he had spent half the night in a Taco Bell parking lot before coming home and watching a movie with his dad. He said his dad waited up for him just like he’d promised he would, only to pass out less than 15 minutes into the movie.  You felt your chest swell slightly at the news but you didn’t make a big deal out of it. You’d always hoped Anders could work it out with his parents, and even if his mom still wasn’t on board, at least he had someone on his side now. 

(Anders made a point not to tell you that he’d purposefully fallen asleep on the couch, too, his head ‘just so happening’ to fall on his fathers shoulder next to him. He’d imagined they’d both wake up the next morning and laugh about how they’d dozed off. Andy woke up only an hour or so after he’d drifted, though, neck stiff. He was never, ever able to get a full night's rest, even now. Once he woke he hobbled up the steps and got into bed like nothing had ever happened. He'd already decided he’d never utter a word of it to anyone.)

When Harry got home you were still on the phone, and instead of listening in he decided to clean up the kitchen. (You’d decided to make homemade pizzas the night before, and to put it lightly the kitchen looked like a murder scene). You felt kind of guilty leaving him to deal with the mess, but you felt special being the one to have Anders’ attention for once and you didn’t want to let it go just yet. 

“And so I built the little guy a house and everything, right? I made him a little couch and a bed and all that…” Anders was going on, telling you some story about a lady bug he’d found in his bedroom. “He was dead when I woke up, though. I googled it and I don’t think it’s bad luck to find a dead lady bug but I still think it’s, like, a sign or something. Like a bad omen.”

“You sound like you’ve been cooped up too long, buddy.” You laughed, imagining the comical frown on Anders’ face when he found the bug. “You’re thinking about it too much.”

“That’s all I have to fucking do these days, man! I’ve been cooped up way too long.” He spit out, exasperated. “You never wanna fucking talk to me anymore so I have to resort to desperate measures.”

You furrowed your brow. “What do you mean I never talk to you?” You asked with a soft laugh, though you really weren’t joking. “You’re the one who never calls me.”

That wasn’t entirely true and you knew it, but it came out anyway. What you meant was that he didn’t call you as much as Harry.

“I never call you? What the fuck do you mean I never call you?” He pushed back, his awkward laugh mimicking yours a moment ago but his tone a little bit harsh. “I would call you more if you actually wanted to talk to me.”

“What are you even saying right now?” You sighed, sitting up in bed so the comforter hung off of your chest. “I always want to talk to you. You just call Harry instead.”

“You want to talk to me now but you didn’t before I left LA.” He said matter of factly. “You’ve barely wanted to talk to me for months now.”

“That is not true, Anders.” You spoke, offended. You realized once you’d said it that you had no reason to be offended; he was actually right. But that realization only annoyed you further, so you doubled down. “We hung out all the time before you left LA.”

“Well, first of all, we definitely did not. Not alone at least.” He spoke again. He didn’t sound angry, only a little bit miffed. “And second of all, you’re my best friend. You seriously think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been around me? It’s just like… if I did something, I’d rather you tell me what I did so we can talk about it.”

For some reason your blood ran cold. If I did something, he said. You could almost laugh. 

“I’m not your best friend, though. Don’t say that.”

He barked out a laugh. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious, Anders. I love you but I am not your best friend.”

He didn’t say anything right away. “Okay then? Fucking ouch.”

“I’m just saying…”

You could hear him breathing unevenly. “So could you, like, tell me why? Or?”

“Why what?”

“Why you don’t want to be my best friend anymore?”

It was you who laughed this time, trying to lighten the mood and make your words a bit softer. You spoke like you were kidding but you meant every word. “It’s not that I don’t, it’s just that you’ve clearly replaced me. Like I just mean don’t call me your best friend when it’s obvious I’m not.”

“Replace you? What the fuck are you even talking about?”

“What is not clicking here, man?” You tried to tease him.  “We’re still friends I’m just saying that you and Harry are closer than us now, and that’s okay, but don’t-“

“Harry? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Yes, Harry.”

“Fuck Harry! What the fuck? You’re-“

“You can’t tell me it isn’t true!”

“It’s not!“

“It’s is!”

Anders let out a long sigh. “Y/N you are my best friend… I couldn’t ever replace you even if I lived a thousand life times. Don’t be crazy.”

You hated it when he called you crazy, even when he didn’t really mean it. 

“I’m not your best friend and you know that.” You let out, words coming faster than you could even comprehend them. “I can admit that I might have been distant but you’ve been doing the exact same thing as me. You think I haven’t noticed how much you talk to Harry? You call him every day and tell him all about your life and what’s going on and when we talk you tell me everything’s fine. It’s like… It’s like you replaced me the second you got back from…”

“From where, Y/N? Say it.” He prompted you. “Where’d I come back from? Hm? Could you just fucking say it for once instead of acting like it didn’t happen?” 

You frowned hard, biting your lip. “Did you even hear what I said?”

“I did, I was just letting you finish before I tell you how ridiculous you sound.”

Your eyes rolled so hard they almost fell out of your head. “Fuck you, Andy.”

He let out a sigh. “No, I didn’t- I just meant that you’re wrong about that. About Harry, I mean.”

“Oh, am I Anders?” You questioned, free hand balling into the comforter. He tried backpedaling but you had already departed the station, the damn already split open. You were upset now and couldn’t hide it even though you wished you could. “You tell him everything. I’ve heard how you guys talk to each other. And, yeah, I needed some space from you after everything but… But I’m just saying it didn’t take you very long to find someone else. You act like I just fucked off and left you out to dry but you did the exact same thing to me.”

He was quiet for a while, thinking. “I wasn’t trying to say that at all, dude. I think maybe we’re misunderstanding each other-“

“Oh, and speaking of rehab,” You cut him off, words already caught in the avalanche. “Who did you have come visit you twice a fucking week? Not me, Andy. If I was your best friend… fuck. I didn’t get to see you once, Andy, and I’m the one who fucking found-“

You stopped suddenly, chest heaving. It was the first time either of you had come even remotely close to talking about that night. You decided to do what Anders tried and back pedal, but it was already too late. You kept going.

“Whatever. I’m just saying that, to me, it seems like you've already got a best friend. I’m sorry for not being around more but-“

“Hey! Hey! I wasn’t trying to pick a fight, okay? I just wanted to know if I did something…”

Here he went with that shit again. If I did something. He could get bent. 

“I’m not either.”

“Kind of seems like you are.”

“I’m just saying! Geez!” You yelled, knowing you were just making it worse. You didn’t know why you couldn’t just stop yourself. “It’s okay if Harry’s your best friend. It’s fine. I just don’t think we need to lie to each other to make me feel better.”

“He is not my best fucking friend, Y/N. I could give a motherfuck about Harry.” Anders spoke. He wasn’t often serious with you like this, so his tone made the words you wanted to throw at him disappear instantly on your tongue. “Not really, but you know what I mean. And I… I never even invited Harry to come see me at rehab, he just showed up.”

“Yeah, and you never even told me!” You snipped. 

“You told me not to talk about Harry! What was I supposed to-“

“No. You kept that from me purposefully, Anders. That’s different and you know it is. I fucking… I fucking drove you there and you didn’t even let me see you.” You caught your breath, panting. “I’m sorry, I know I’m being mean right now it’s just…”

“It’s been on your mind, I get it.” He excused you. He was so kind, even now, letting you off the hook easily as always. “It’s been on my mind, too. I’m glad it’s out in the open at least.”

“I guess.” You grumbled. But he was right, and he was right to bring it up. You sighed, admitting defeat. “You’re right, I just… Its hard for me to talk about. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He waved off. “What else do you need to say?”

You chuckled, wracking your brain. What could you say? There were a million things you’d thought to yourself over the last few months, and the last few weeks in particular, and yet nothing came to mind. 

“That’s it, I think.” You answered honestly. “I’m sorry I talked to you like that, but… I don’t know. It hurt my feelings when you said I don’t like talking to you because it isn’t true. I still care about you and I still love you as much as I always did…”

“Then why doesn’t it feel like that, Y/N?” He asked, voice wavering. “I’m sorry for spending so much time with Harry, but I couldn’t be alone, man. I… I felt like you fucking disappeared. I’m not blaming you I’m just saying I wasn’t trying to replace you, ever. I- I genuinely didn’t know what else to do. I needed someone.”

“So did I!”

“I know you did! I know! And I would’ve been there if you’d fucking let me.”

“Maybe I would’ve let you if you weren’t with your fucking boy  all the time!”

He let out a small gasping sound. “That’s totally fucking unfair. I only spent so much time with him because you weren’t around.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. But it’s not just that you were hanging out with him, anyway. It’s the way you talk to him… You know when I got here he knew things about your life that I didn’t even know? It was embarrassing, dude. You call him to talk about your feelings and you tell him what’s bothering you and when I call you just say it’s fine.” You let out. “You don’t talk to me like that, and you never have. You didn’t before you went to rehab and you don’t now… And you know what, now that I think of it, it kind of did bother me how much time you spent with Harry. You could’ve befriended anyone in the world, Anders, and you chose him? I mean, part the reason we stopped seeing each other as much is because you were constantly with my ex boyfriend. It wasn’t the main reason, but it still fucking sucked for me.”

“I was trying to get you guys back together the entire time!” He defended weakly. “I wasn’t picking a side, man, I was trying to fucking help. I don’t fucking know. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I spent so much time with him and I can totally understand why that would upset you. I should’ve thought about that and I’m sorry.”  He paused, sheets ruffling as he must have been laying down. “But we both know that’s not the reason you didn’t want to hang out with me. And, you know, I understand that and I’m not trying to act fucking stupid by pretending I don’t get it, but… I mean, I want to know how I can fix it. Like how long is that going to last before you want to be around me again? I know I fucked up and if there’s nothing I can do I get it but I would like to at least try before I let this fucking ruin our friendship.”

You weren’t sure what to say. He spoke again while you tried to figure it out. 

“Sorry I didn’t fucking open with that.” He giggled, letting out an exhausted huff. “I didn’t mean to come at you like that I just didn’t know how else to bring it up. I should’ve just asked you how you were feeling.”

“It’s okay. It’s fine, I just don’t…” The words you searched for still eluded you. “Why didn’t you let me visit you, Anders? When I found that out, I… That hurt super fucking bad, man. I mean, I asked you every single day… And, I mean, the whole Harry thing aside, I feel like I should’ve been the one to get to be there. I think I earned that.”

“Earned it?” He whispered incredulously. “Y/N, I didn’t want you there because I was a fucking mess. I- I- I was a fucking disaster! I had already done enough to you at that point it felt unfair to drag you into that. And I was embarrassed, man. I didn’t want anyone to see me, and the only reason I was okay with Harry being there was because I didn’t know him and I honestly didn’t give a shit what he thought. I care what you think, a lot. I always have. I couldn’t let you see me like that.”

It made sense, but it didn’t make you feel much better. You didn’t even realize how badly you’d been hurt by the news of Harry going to visit him until you’d spoken it out loud, and it was hitting you like a truck. 

“I still wanted to be there.” You replied, words like glass ready to shatter. “I wanted to be there for you the entire time, after rehab, but…”

“But you were mad at me. I know.”

“Mad at you?” You snapped, shaking your head for no audience. “I wasn’t… No, Andy. I couldn’t be around you because…” You had to stop, inhaling a shaky breath. You didn’t want to think about it. “Because every time I was around you, all I could think of… I still saw it every time I looked at you. I could see how purple your lips were, and you were so pale…”

You couldn’t continue, throat closed tight. You shook your head again but didn’t know why. Maybe to shake the sight out of your brain. 

“I’m so sorry I did that to you, Y/N. I am so, so fucking sorry.” He whispered again. You could tell he was crying. “I spend every second of every day wishing I didn’t do that. And, you know, sometimes I think that… I don’t know, if I’d only done it an hour earlier, or locked my door, you never would’ve-“

“Anders! Stop it!” You broke, cutting him off before he could rip your heart out entirely. You were crying now, too. “You can’t say stuff like that. It’s a good thing I was there. I was supposed to be there.”

“You were never supposed to be there.” He argued. “That wasn’t supposed to happen like that. And if- If I thought for a second that you’d come there and see that then I wouldn’t have… Or I would’ve done it differently, or something. And then you wouldn’t have had to see anything and you wouldn’t have had to drive me to rehab and we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. And you wouldn’t have even known me that well back then to even really miss me for that long.”

“It would have ruined my life, Anders.” You clarified. He couldn’t have been more wrong, about any of it. “I never would’ve fucking forgiven myself for that shit. I still can’t forgive myself now! You can’t- You don’t get to say you wish you’d done it better, or that I’d be better off or whatever dumb shit you’re gonna say. I was there for a reason and I am grateful every day that you weren’t alone.”

“I know. I know.” Anders repeated over and over while you finished, voice hushed and tired. “I know, I didn’t mean all of that… I just feel so guilty about everything, and the only way I can think to fix it is if I would’ve-“

“You don’t need to feel guilty.”

“Yes, I do.”

“You do not.”

“You just fucking said you can’t forgive yourself for what happened! You just said that! I fucking ruined your life as it is! I didn’t need to die to do that, it’s already fucking done!” He went off suddenly, nearly making you jump out of your skin. “I know what I did to you. And I’m sorry. But that is exactly fucking why I call Harry to bitch about my life, or talk about my fucking mom, or whatever. I can’t talk to you about that shit.”

“Why not, Anders? Why not?” You croaked. “That’s what friends do. I want you to know how you're doing, I want to help…”

“I can’t fucking talk to you about it! I can’t! I have burdened you since I fucking met you, I’ve scarred you for fucking life. I’m not calling you to complain about how shit my life is.” He huffed for a second, bordering more on angry now than he did upset. “As far as I’m concerned, for the rest of my fucking life I’m going to be perfectly fine every time you ask me how I’m doing. I have to be okay for you. I don’t get to complain to you, ever again.”

“I don’t want you to always be okay. I want you to be honest with me.”

“Because you’ve been honest with me, right? Like you ever tell me what’s going on with you. You hardly even talked about the breakup with Harry with me. You don’t tell me shit.” He spilled out. “Every time I ask, you lie to me just like I lie to you. You’re telling me you’ve been perfectly fine this whole time? There hasn’t been one thing that’s bothered you? Not one bad day?”

You didn’t realize just how clueless Anders was on what you’d been through while he was off dealing with his own stuff. You’d kept just as much from him as he had from you, from the breakup to the nightmares to the way you were constantly haunted by that pale, purple version of your best friend. 

“You’re right. I haven’t been honest with you, either.” You admitted. You wiped your face, frustrated tears threatening to make their way down your neck. “Can we just agree not to lie to each other anymore? I’ll tell you what’s going on with me but only if you agree to do the same. I want to be there for you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

It was quiet, both of you catching your breath and slowing your brains. Everything was coming at you so fast it was like you couldn’t keep up. You thought about everything, about how angry you had been and how hurt and how confused… You thought about everything that had pinched at the back of your brain for months now that you always steadfastly ignored. 

“You should’ve told me what was going on, before all of this.” You said without meaning to. “It never should’ve gotten so bad if you just told me.”

“It’s not that simple, Y/N.”

“It is, though. I… I fucking asked you if you were on drugs, and you lied to me. I asked you all the time if you were okay. I tried calling you every single day after you broke your nose.” It was all bubbling over now, nothing stopping it. You were angry again, about everything. All at once. “I know I should’ve tried harder and I will always carry that with me, but you should’ve talked to me, man. You should’ve told me.”

“What was I supposed to do, huh? What do you want from me?” He snapped, a chord obviously struck. “You wanted me to tell the girl I hardly knew that I was fucking su*cidal? That would’ve gone over super well, I’m sure.”

“That’s not what I mean-“

“I can tell you how that conversation would’ve gone, actually. Hey girl I just met, do you want to hear about how fucked up I am?” He stopped to laugh. “You wanted me to tell you that I was on drugs, again? Should I have told you how many fucking times I’d already done the exact same thing since I was, like, 17? That would’ve been really comforting to you, I’m sure. It wouldn’t have totally made you lose faith in me or anything, like everybody else.” He stopped for a second to laugh, again, the idea of this imaginary conversation obviously tickling him. “Or, better yet, I could’ve told you at the hospital that that wasn’t even the first time I’d tried to fucking k*ll myself! Or the second! Or the fucking third! I’m sure that would’ve helped soooo much had you known that.”

Instead of saying anything you just cried quietly into your bent elbow, head resting on your knees. When you didn’t say anything Anders sighed sadly, speaking again. 

“I shouldn’t have said that. I know that’s not what you meant, and I’m sorry. But you have to see where I’m coming from, right? If I…” He choked on his words for a second, clearing his throat. “Y/N, if I knew how to ask for help you would’ve been the first one I went to. If I knew how to ask I would have. You have to believe me.”

You did believe him. It was unfair of you to blame him for not coming to you, but you still couldn’t help how angry you were at him. It was fucked up but you just felt so… fucked over by him. It was so wrong and you knew it but you couldn't help being mad that he didn’t think more about your feelings. You knew it wasn’t about you and it never was, and yet it still hurt you. Maybe you were just selfish, you weren’t sure. 

“You didn’t even leave me a note, Andy.” Was what you decided on saying. You’d never brought that fact up to anyone, deciding it was too morbid for your mom or Logan or even Harry. But it had always been there, in the back of your mind, gnawing away at the space you used to use for your fond memories of Anders. It’s like with every second you didn’t say anything about it it just continued eating at the image of him you had in your head. Each day that passed just eroded at the soil more and more. “I called and I texted and I showed up to your house… I was the only one who didn’t think I was being irrational. I was worried fucking sick about you for weeks and weeks after the Halloween party, and you couldn’t even write me a fucking su*cide note?”

Saying it out loud like that made your stomach lurch. You were nearly hysterical but you kept talking anyway. 

“I deserved a fucking note, Anders. If you were going to leave me all on my own the least you could’ve done was write me a fucking note. And I know there wasn’t one hidden because I cleaned every square inch of that apartment after I dropped you off at rehab.” You choked back a sob, so upset the phone in your hand shook fiercely against your ear. “There was nothing there, Anders. Nothing. I know I sound selfish and I’m being a brat, but honestly Anders when you… when you took those pills I felt so abandoned by you. How do you think I felt? I know it’s not about me and I’m fucked for feeling that way but I felt like you never even cared about me at all when you did that shit. And I tried ignoring that part, I chalked it up to being bigger than me, but… but I didn’t even get a note? I wasn’t even important enough to you for a note?”

He didn’t say anything, for a long, long time. You both just cried and cried and cried and you wished more than anything you could’ve had this conversation face to face. You wanted to hold him like you did at the hospital. You wanted to play with his hair. You wanted to put a hand on him, just to prove he really was okay.

“There was a note. On my phone.” He whispered after that long, long time had passed. His voice was so quiet you could hardly hear it over your own ragged breath. “There was one for you, and for Rachel. And there was one for my mom. I thought that you guys would, like, go through my phone or whatever, after…”

You opened your mouth but nothing came out. You hated the way your shoulders relaxed, like something had been proven to you by that fact. You hated how relieved you felt. It made you sick.

“You are important to me and you always have been. And I don’t think you’re fucked for feeling that way. I knew you must feel that way and I thought… I thought if I just went back to normal I could make up for it. I thought I’d make it go away.” His breath rattled his chest for a second. “I’m sorry we didn’t talk about this sooner. If I could go back, even to February, I’d do it all differently. I swear on my life I would.”

“I’m so sorry…” Was what you said, unsure what else could fill in the silence. “I shouldn’t have even brought the note thing up, it’s just been.. on my mind, I guess.”

“No, I get it.” He spoke sweetly, voice still soft by the tears mostly gone. “I actually thought about telling you I wrote it a few times, but I didn’t know if you’d even realized and I thought it’d be weird to just randomly tell you…”

He started laughing at that, a real, genuine laugh. You started laughing too, unable to ignore how silly the whole thing was. You wished softly that you’d talked about all of this sooner, but you did your best not to think too much about it. 

“It would’ve been weird, yeah.” You snickered, wiping your nose on the back of your hand. “Imagine we just went out for lunch and you drop that on me over a salad. Like a casual, hey by the way…”

Anders laughed harder, the sound healing some part of you that had snapped during the conversation. “Right like we go out to fucking Bella Vino and I just slide my notes app across the table to you.” He had to stop, cackling with laughter. “Like, I wrote this for you, just so you know.”

“Not the notes app.” You shrieked, wiping at your eyes. 

“You know what they say, right? The only thing better than a notes app apology…”

You both giggled a while longer, eventually sighing exhausted and overwhelmed but somehow peaceful. 

“You know you’re important to me, right?” Anders asked once your stomach was sore. “I mean that. You saved my life, Y/N, and I could never, ever…. I could never replace you, or stop caring, or any of that. You saved my fucking life. And I never even said thank you! I never… I’m fucked for that, I know I am. I just didn’t know how I could possibly-“

“You don’t have to thank me.” You assured him. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I owe you my life, man. I owe you everything.” He choked up again, blowing out a deep breath. “Because, you know, I bitch a lot to Harry, and this has been the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done, but.. but I’m really happy I’m alive. I’m so happy I’m alive.“ He stopped again, giggling. He sounded like a little kid. “I got to watch a movie with my dad because I’m alive. I owe you for that, big time.”

///

The rest of the conversation went easily after that, or at least easier. You talked more about everything, both of you letting out everything you’d been meaning to. For as scared as you were of this inevitable conversation, it really wasn’t as hard as you expected once the first bit was over. 

The topics floated around elsewhere, too. Anders caught you up on how life with his parents had been and even told you a bit more about his relationship with his mom in particular. He told you stories from his childhood about being locked out of the house for a day and a half because his mom was mad at him or not being able to go on a feild trip in eighth grade because “she thought he liked his friends at school more than her”. He told you about Jena, too, more than he ever had before. He told you how she used to force him to have sex or literally push his head down to snort pills off the coffee table even when he said no. He told you how he still had panic attacks every single time he took a shower. He couldn’t wear wet clothes, either, like if it was raining or his sleeve got damp in the sink. “It makes me feel like I’m dying.” He told you. “One time I got caught in the rain and I was so upset I threw up in a parking lot.”

Harry walked in as Anders finished a story about his sixth grade band recital, a plate of scrambled eggs and a bagel set on your lap. You asked Anders if he wanted to say hello, but he politely declined.

“I just want to talk to you for a while.” He’d said. “I’ll call Harry later today.”

And so you told him everything, too. You told him about what happened with Christian and the nightmares (which he did not take well, by the way). You told him that you also hated taking showers at home because it reminded you of what happened. You both shared song recommendations that you used on your shower playlists that made it a little bit easier. 

///

By the time you made your way downstairs, Harry had already cleaned up from breakfast, folded your clothes in the dryer, and was neck deep in your old guest bedroom. 

He turned to look over his shoulder as you walked in behind him, smiling broadly. He had your suitcases dumped out onto the floor, though most of their contents was already scattered around the room. 

“There you are!” He beamed, setting a tube of mascara in a pile he’d set aside for makeup. “I was starting to miss you.”

“I got distracted talking to Andy.” You brushed off, sitting down next to him where you could find the smallest amount of clear floor. “We got into a fight.”

Harry furrowed his brow, setting a pair of socks into the sock pile. “A fight? What about?”

“About you.” You teased. Harry snapped his head to look at you, mouth falling open.

“Did I do something?” He asked, abandoning the t-shirt in his hands. You only smiled, shaking your head.

“No, no.. I’m just kidding.” You laughed, “I kind of told him off for calling you all the time instead of me.”

He didn’t laugh with you. “Baby, you should’ve told me it bothered you.” He began, putting a hand on your cheek. “I didn’t know…”

“It’s okay!” You insisted. “I was feeling kind of bitter but we talked about it and it’s okay. I was just jealous, I guess.”

“You were jealous?”

You paused. “Yeah, kind of.” You admitted, taking Harry’s hand in yours and pulling it off your cheek and into your lap. “I felt like you guys were closer than me and him, and… I don’t know. He called and told me I was his best friend and I kind of lost it on him.”

“But you are his best friend?” Harry responded, confused and looking guilty. “I could’ve told you that. He tells me every day he doesn’t like me as much as you.”

You smiled, maybe a little bit too satisfied. “I am his best friend.” You agreed.

Harry smiled, confused. “Okay?”

“We’re good now, though. Like, actually.” You said, picking up a pair of leggings out of the mess and throwing it in the clothes pile. “We finally talked about everything.”

Harry followed your lead and grabbed your lap top off of the floor and set it on the bed. “You did?” He beamed, nudging your shoulder with his own. “That’s awesome, sunflower. I’m really happy you guys did that.”

“Me too. He said he’s call you later today.”

Harry picked up a bottle of lotion out of the pile, revealing how it had leaked out onto everything below it. He closed his eyes, sighing. 

“You know you don’t have to live like this, right?” He nagged. “You’re lucky that didn’t get all over your laptop. Which shouldn’t have been on the floor anyway.”

“It’s fine.”

“Yeah, well if you’re going to be living with me you need to start living like a real person.” He rasped, rubbing his brow. He stopped suddenly, realizing what he’d said. “Not that you live here now, or anything. I just mean since you’re gonna stay here for a while. You don’t have to live out of suitcases.”

You shrugged, brushing off the exchange about the living situation. “I like living out of suitcases. I’m used to it.”

“Well you don’t have to do that anymore.”

“It’s not a big deal…”

It was quiet for a second, you still helping Harry clean your disaster of a bedroom despite you saying it wasn’t an issue. Harry stopped after a minute or two. 

“Is there a reason you don’t want to move your stuff into our room?” He questioned, looking you in the eyes. You frowned, stunned. 

“I just haven’t gotten around to it.” You said honestly. Harry knew that, the two of your spending nearly every second of every day together. “You know how I am about cleaning.”

Harry didn’t laugh at your joke, just nodding along. “Feels like you have one foot out the door.” He mumbled, chucking a pair of shoes into the shoe pile with a bit of extra frustrated force. 

You looked at him, but he just kept organizing. You thought about what he’d said, realizing how it must look from his perspective. Your suitcases were literally still packed.

You thought about his conversation with Anders the other night, how Harry had told him how afraid he was that you would change your mind or leave. You picked up a pair of jeans. 

“Do you think you have room in your dresser for my stuff to go in there?” You asked, folding the pants carefully. “We could probably move everything to our room before lunch, if you think we can make space.”

Harry whipped his head around, ignoring your question. “Really?”

You furrowed your brows. “Yes?”

“You want to put it all in our room?”

“Yeah, I do.” You answered honestly. It would be nice to not have to go down the hall every time you needed socks, anyway. “Do you think it will all fit?”

Harry leaped up, a ridiculous kind of look on his face as he cheesed down at you. 

“Yes!” He squeaked. “Yeah, I can make room! I can go move some stuff right now!”

“Okay. Awesome.” You commented, just looking up at him. You couldn’t help smiling just as goofily as he was. “Do you want help?”

He looked back and forth for a second, running his fingers through his hair. “No, no, I’m good. I’ll just move some shit and you stay here and get your stuff ready, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t leave, though, just staring at you. His legs were wiggling with nervous excitement.

“This is great.” He said, letting out a giggle. He covered his mouth, trying to force the smile off of his face and failing. “This makes me really happy, Y/N. Thank you.”

You crinkled your nose at him. “You don’t need to thank me, you pest.”

He continued staring at you for a second, his smile now a permanent fixture on his face. He knelt beside you, pulling your face to his with a hand on either cheek. 

“I love you so much.” He gushed into the kiss, hands clammy. “I love you. Thank you.”

“I love you more.” You promised, pulling away from the kiss with a smile of your own. “Now go get ready for all my junk, okay?”

He stood again, his entire body tense and excited and giddy. “Okay! Yeah, okay.. I’m gonna go do that.” He turned to leave, looking back at you every step or two to give you another grin. “I’ll be in our room if you need me.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

And then he left the room, his giggling following him down the hall. “Let’s fucking go!” He said to himself, his footsteps in the pattern of a little happy skip. “Let’s fucking go!”.

///

You weren’t done by lunch time, the entire ordeal becoming much more of  a thing than you’d expected. You sorted through all of Harry’s shit, him deciding what items he wanted to move out of the closet to make room for your own. He threw sweaters you’d seen him wear in paparazzi photos onto the bed, discarded as if you hadn’t memorized the patterns staring at those pictures of him while you were broken up. “I never fucking wear this.” He said, throwing another jacket onto the bed. “Or this. Or this.”

You watched him take nearly all of his clothes across the hall to another empty bedroom, leaving them on the bed in there to be put away later. He took out things you’d seen him wear within the week, insisting he hadn’t worn them in years and didn’t mind them being in the other room. You didn’t argue with him on any of it, his mood so bubbly and excited and just about over the moon. You hadn’t seen him this excited, even the night you first got back together. He talked the entire time, going on and on about how happy he was and all of his plans for your new room you’d be sharing. 

“We can paint the walls yellow, too, since that’s your favorite.” He was saying, taking the last load of  clothes out of his dresser. “I’ve been meaning to paint the walls in here anyway.”

“You definitely don’t have to do that.” You’d laughed, thinking he was kidding. He just looked at you like you were crazy. 

“You don’t like yellow anymore?”

“I do, I just don’t want you to have to-”

“It’s fine.” He cut you off. “I want it to feel like your room, too.”

You didn’t say anything for a second, just looking at him. He looked so in love. You smiled, nodding. “We can paint it together, then.”

He grinned back at you, shoulders relaxing. “Yes! Wouldn’t that be fun?” He gushed, back to his rambling now. “We could buy a new duvet, too. We could hang up some of the paintings Andy’s done for you, too! And all your awards can go over here if we add a shelf.”

You didn’t say anything about the fact that Harry most certainly wouldn’t hang any of his own awards in his bedroom and that you didn’t want to do that, either, just letting him continue. You just listened to him talk, believing everything he said and every promise he made. You wanted to kiss him, so you did, over and over and over. Before you knew it, you had moved everything onto his room and the two of you were picking out a new silk duvet cover online. It had tiny flowers on it. 

///

You didn’t get around to lunch until after 3, the two of you close to starvation by the time you’d finished up everything upstairs. You sat on some stools at the kitchen island, scarfing down the Thai food you’d had ordered in. You were almost done with your entire plate when Bethany called you. 

“Hey Beth!” You chirped, Harry’s good mood infecting you and making everything seem a little more sparkly. “What’s up?”

She sighed. Bad sign.

“Have you been on the internet at all today?” She asked, not bothering with niceties. 

You paused, looking over at Harry who was just as confused as you. You set your phone down on the counter, turning it on speaker. 

“I haven’t really been on since early this morning.” You explained. “Why, what’s up?”

“Well, its officially happened. Cats out of the bag.”

You relaxed, realizing what she meant. “Oh, yeah. I saw everything with Logan and Rachel already.” You explained. “Logan texted me this morning to talk about it.”

Bethany let out a short laugh. “Nope, not that Peach. Try again.”

Your breathing stopped for a second, your head whipping to look at Harry the same moment his turned to face you. You had matching expressions on your faces, eyes wide and eyebrows bunched together. Harry leaned towards the phone, speaking.

“What do you mean, Bethany?” He asked, his plate pushed away with the back of his hand. 

“Harry, great. I’m glad you’re here.” Bethany went on. She had that tone to her voice right now that she always had when she was really, really pissed. Not at you, but at everything else. It was the way she talked after meetings with Tom, or when someone posted something about you online that was particularly searing. “You should be here for this so you can reiterate all of this to Jeff.”

Oh, fuck. You looked back at him, mouth opening and closing over and over again but no words actually coming out. Harry looked just as dumb and confused as you felt. Finally he spoke. 

“What happened?”

His expression changed into the kind he always got when he talked about work. (You selfishly hated that version of him, the one who was all serious and analytical. It didn’t feel like him.)

“Well, Harry, your girlfriend wore your pants on Jimmy Fucking Fallon.” She snipped, sighing. You knew she wasn’t mad at you two, but you still felt like a child being chastised. “And you have a scuff on your wall.”

“What the fuck are you taking about?” You asked, put opened on your stomach. 

“Well,” (You could envision her pulling glasses off the top of her head, sliding them down her nose.) “Aubrey on Twitter says, ‘Y/N was literally wearing Harry’s pants on Fallon tonight I’m gonna kms.’ And attached is a picture of you, my dear, wearing some black sweats and another picture of Harry last week on BBC wearing the same ones.”

You looked at each other, mouths agape. 

“How do they know we don’t have the same pants?” You asked. You were trying not to panic yet, remembering how Beth had always been the one to brush off incidents like this. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yeah, except there’s a stain on the back.” She explained. “A big white splotch on the butt. Paint, or something.”

Harry groaned, leaning his head onto the counter and banging his fist once in defeat. He stayed like that for a second before sitting back up, his head in his hands. 

“Andy and I got into a paint fight.” He started, voice small.

“A paint fight?” You asked incredulously. “What even is that?”

“Well, babe, it’s a lot like a fight but with paint involved.” He snipped back at you. “I should’ve remembered. I was so pissed he ruined those pants…”

You just shook your head, mimicking Harry and throwing your head into your hands. 

“What about the scuff on the wall?” You asked, remembering that other detail. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well it’s in the same spot in every single interview the two of you have done the last month.”

Of fucking course it was. You grumbled, laying your head down completely. You’d spent so much time picking an inconspicuous place to set up your camera, and this was still happening. 

“So everyone has put it together, then?” Harry asked. 

“Yup.” Bethany answered. “And there’s no denying it. I mean, we can say you aren’t a couple… We can say whatever you want, but there’s no denying that you’re living together. Everyone knows it. And, now that they have that, they’re putting everything else together, too.”

Harry shook his head, eyes closing. “But is it like, a couple people saying this? Or is it, like, everyone?”

“Well you're trending on Twitter. Right under Rachel.” 

It was quiet for a second, the three of you all waiting for someone else to pipe up. It gave you enough time, in the three or so seconds it was silent, to make up your mind. 

Harry needed to know you meant it. He needed to know you weren’t going anywhere. You’d already moved your clothes out of their suitcases and you promised to meet his mom, and there was only one more thing to do. There was only one more thing you could do to prove you meant it. 

“I’m happy this is happening.” You said out loud, unsure if Harry would feel the same considering but taking a chance. You watched his face out of the corner of your eye. “I… I don’t want it to be a secret anymore. I want everyone to know.”

Harry snapped around to look at you, expression unreadable. 

“As long as Harry is okay with that.” You added, adding some cushioning in case this went sour. “I’m okay with it, though. I’m excited, actually.”

It was true. You’d spent so much time forced to keep it a secret that you’d forgotten that wasn’t ever what you wanted at all. Bethany still sounded just as stressed when she spoke. 

“You guys can talk about it. And Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“You need to talk to Jeff. Once you guys talk let me know and we’ll go from there.”

He agreed, both of you saying your goodbyes to Beth before hanging up. You pressed the big red button, waiting a beat before looking up at Harry. 

“So…” You started, not able to get much further before Harry cut you off.

“Did you mean that?” He asked, eyes cautious. “About wanting everyone to know? You meant that?”

You nodded weakly. “We’re only supposed to say the stuff we mean, right?”

He looked at you a beat before realization set in and his face broke out into a smile, a giggle ripping through the tension around you. 

“Really?”

“Really.”

He sprang foreword, kissing you firmly in the mouth. He held your face the way he always did lately, a hand on either cheek. He mumbled into your mouth, too, the way he’d been keen to do lately. 

“I fucking love you. I love you.” He rushed out, biting your lip. “I’m so happy. I’m so fucking happy.”

You kissed him back, telling him you were too. You were too. You were too. 

“We can go on a date now.” He went on. “I can take you to get that spaghetti I was telling you about, after everything opens again. You’ll love it, it’s the best spaghetti I’ve ever had I swear to God. We won’t have to lie to anyone anymore.”

You, out of nowhere, felt your eyes grow hot with tears. You didn’t say anything else, just continuing to kiss him. You hoped if you kissed him enough times he would just know everything you wanted to say this whole time. Your dirty dishes still sat on the counter, forgotten. 

///

A few days later, Anders woke up on a Sunday in the best mood he’d been in for days. 

Since his conversation with Y/N he’d felt a weight lifted off of his shoulders, but rehashing everything that way adding an entirely different kind of pressure. But today was Sunday, and Sunday’s were good.

On Sunday’s, his parents left the house to go to church. His parents, even in the pandemic, still went and sat with everyone else who was too stupid to stay out of large crowds, and even though that should’ve annoyed him Anders loved it. He didn’t care if his parents brought the virus home. The possibility of dying was worth the 180 minutes he got to spend without them in the house. (His mom no longer asked him to go with them. She actually still hadn’t said a single word to him since he’d gone to Matt’s house).

Anders threw open his door once he heard the car roll out of the driveway, feeling as if he had the entire world at his fingertips. He was wearing a pair of sweats, the same ones he’d had on for 6 days, not bothering to put on a shirt before bouncing down to the kitchen. 

His plans for breakfast were foiled as soon as he turned the corner. 

“Hey son!” His dad smiled brightly, standing over the stove. He was just pulling out a pan, a carton of eggs out on the counter. “I thought I was gonna have to wake you up.”

“Why are you here?”

He knew he should’ve said something else, but it’s all he could think. In the last 24 years he’d never once seen his dad skip church. Ever.

“I wanted to have breakfast with you.” He said simply. “Are you hungry at all?”

Anders just shook his head. “But it’s Sunday.”

“We can’t have breakfast on a Sunday?”

Anders laughed, deciding to sit in one of the kitchen chairs. He realized that he wasn’t actually upset his dad was here. 

“I figured you’d be at church is all.” He explained. “Im starving though.”

His dad just smiled. “Fantastic. Do you want bacon, too?”

Anders, suddenly, was bombarded by memories of Christmas morning when his dad would always make bacon after the gifts were opened. He stopped doing that when Anders was in middle school, but he could still smell it when he really tried. Back before everything was bad all the time. 

“Fuck yeah.” Anders said, knowing his dad would chastise him for that but not able to resist pissing his parents off even when he didn’t want to. It was a defect of his he couldn’t help.

His dad turned to look at him, mouth pinched to hide a grin. “Fuck yeah.” His dad agreed, the word sounding bizarre coming out in his voice. Anders threw his head back in a howl of laughter, tears accumulating.

“Did you just say fuck? My father, the Saint?”

His dad was giggling now, the sound almost identical to Anders' own laugh. He’d never noticed that before. “Fuck yeah I did.” He said, only causing them both to giggle harder. 

“Fuck yeah, dad! Let it out!”

“Fuck yeah!”

“You can do better than that”

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck yeah!!!”

Anders was in fucking stitches, his sides literally pinching his ribs as he died laughing. 

“Feels good doesn’t it?” He asked. His dad nodded enthusiastically. 

“It feels good.” He agreed, pulling a pack of bacon out of the fridge. “Feels fucking good.”

“I'm surprised you chose a Sunday to say your first curse with me, dad.” Anders joked. “I'm surprised you’re here at all.”

“Well I am, aren’t I?”

“Just figured you’d be, like, praising the son of god right now. Or whatever.”

His dad was quiet for a second, using the same scissor he always used when Anders was baby Anderson to open the bacon. 

“I have my own son to worry about.” He said quietly, looking over his shoulder. He smiled shyly. “You ever make bacon before?”

Of course he had. Everyone had. But for some reason Anders shook his head. 

“Can you show me?”

His dad smiled even bigger now. “Yeah! Of course I can! Grab the tongs out of the drawer over there and I’ll get us started.”

“Okay.”

Anders did what he said and grabbed the tongs. He stood next to his dad, feeling awkward but also strangely good. He was almost as tall as his dad. The last time he’d watched his dad cook he had to stand on a chair. Part of him wanted to stand on a chair anyway, just for old times sake. Or maybe he just wanted to feel like baby Anderson again. Baby Anderson never had a care in the world. Baby Anderson’s parents were always crazy about him. 

“Moms gonna be pissed at you, huh?” Anders asked, laughing lightly but meaning it. His dad shrugged, turning on one of the burners. 

“She can be mad at both of us, then.” He as all he said. “So now we have to wait for the pan to get hot…”

///

“How much shit do you own?” Logan asked, a hand over her eyes to block out the sun above her. Rachel was grabbing another box out of her Range Rover, hobbling up the steps to the door. 

“You could help me.” Rachel squeaked, barely managing to make it inside before the box slipped from her fingers. Logan shut the door behind them both, coming up to take Rachel by the waist. 

“Why don’t you just stop for a while?” She whispered, pressing a kiss to her girlfriends hair. “Let’s relax. I miss you.”

Rachel only blushed, as always, pushing her hair behind her ears. “I have a lot to unpack.”

“You can unpack tomorrow.”

Rachel looked around the living room, full of boxes and suitcases and all sorts of junk. It was a fucking disaster in here. Rachel’s house, or her parents house, technically, was never dirty. Ever. 

Rachel thought maybe she liked it being dirty. She threw the bag off of her shoulder she’d grabbed from the car, letting it land right in middle of the floor. Her heart beat funny at the thought that she’d just leave it there, right in middle of the walkway. 

“Tomorrow.” She agreed, leaning into Logan. Logan chirped triumphantly, immediately pulling Rachel to the couch. They both laughed together, happy. 

The house was a nightmare, Rachel’s parents wouldn’t talk to her, and she didn’t know what the fuck she was going to do when the pandemic ended and she had to go back to work. She didn’t feel like taking pictures anymore, or doing her hair every time she left the house. She didn’t want to hang out with Margot or Kira, ever again. She had a millions things running through her head, all of them spiraling and twisting and bumping into each other until she couldn’t make sense of a single second of it. For some reason she didn’t mind though. 

“You know I was never allowed to have short hair.” She said without knowing why. Logan hummed. “I’ve always wanted to cut it.”

Logan sprang off the couch. “Babe! I used to go to beauty school! I’m, like, so good at cutting hair!”

“You did?”

Logan frowned, her nose scrunching up in the way that always made Rachel feel especially soft. “Well, I went for like a week before I quit. But I am really good at cutting hair! I swear!”

This wasn’t entirely true. Logan had enrolled in beauty school, but never actually went. And she was only decent at cutting hair, at best.

But Rachel couldn’t give a fuck if she was any good at it. “Okay.” She agreed, standing. “Do you think it’ll look good?”

Logan nodded frantically. “Of course! You know what, I’ll cut mine first so you can make sure you like it. Then you can decide.”

Rachel was objecting the best she could but Logan was already in the kitchen, scissors in hand. 

(The scissors, funnily enough, we’re the exact same pair Andy’s dad always used for the bacon on Christmas morning.)

Before Rachel could even catch up Logan grabbed a fist full of hair, lobbing it all of just under her chin. Her eyes widened as the blonde strands scattered on the floor. Then, she started laughing. And so did Rachel. 

They both laughed until they were crying, making their way to the bathroom with Logan’s hair half to her waist and half to her chin. It only took an hour or so for both of them to be made over, making eye contact through the mirror. Both with matching hair cuts, both equally as drastic. They looked fine, but not great. 

“I love it.” Rachel beamed, eyes teary again for a whole new reason. “I love it.”

She shook her head around, watching the bob swing around her face. She looked like a completely different person, someone she’d never met before. She loved it. 

“It looks amazing!!” Logan screeched, excitedly bouncing around. “This is amazing!!!”

///

“I didn’t know you had so many tattoos.” Anders’ dad said through a mouthful. 

Anders shrugged. “I did that on purpose.” He said honestly, referring to his mostly blank arms and covered chest. (Not covered, but he had a few.)

“They’re cool.” His dad said, making Anders furrow his brow in surprise. “I always wanted to get a tattoo.”

He couldn’t help snorting. This was the best day he’d had in as long as he could remember. Maybe his whole life. “I can’t imagine you with a tattoo.”

“I’ve still got time.” His dad grinned, taking another bite. “Maybe I’ll get one.”

“I’ll take you to get one.” Anders offered, saying it like a joke but not at all kidding. “You could get a face tat, dad. You’d look so fucking sick.”

His dad just shook his head. “What’s that one?” He questioned, pointing to the mysterious blob on his torso. It was on his ribs, just under his heart. 

“It was supposed to be a frog.” Anders laughed. “My friend Y/N did it.”

“With a tattoo gun?”

“With a needle.”

His dad didn’t tell him off like he was expecting. “What’s she like?”

His parents never asked about his friends. They’d always hated his friends growing up. 

“She’s fuckin sick.” Anders answered, realizing they’d both finished their plates but weren’t getting up. “She’s my best friend.”

“Maybe I can go see her show one day.” His dad said casually. “Or am I too old for that?”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? You could totally go!” Anders gushed. He imagined it, his dad bobbing awkwardly along like dads do. “You could come see Harry, too.”

“Could I come see you?” His dad asked, making Anders’ heart skip a beat. He’d never invited his parents to a show, figuring they wouldn’t want to go. His mom definitely wouldn’t. 

“Of course you could.” Anders said. He felt his face get hot. “It would actually mean a lot to me, dad. If you came, I mean.”

His dad smiled to himself, shaking his head. “I can’t believe my kids a rockstar. That’s pretty cool, huh?” His dad chuckled for a second. “Sorry. That’s pretty fucking cool, isn’t it?”

The praise made him embarrassed. “It’s alright.”

“I always wanted to be a rockstar.” His dad mused. He almost didn’t even look like his dad right now. He looked younger somehow. More like a person. “Like Jimi Hendrix, you know? I used to be pretty good at the guitar. Not that good, but I think you’d be impressed if you heard it. I was never as good as you, though.”

For some reason Anders wanted to cry. For every reason and no reason. His dad wanted to be a rockstar. His dad used to be young. He used to want things. He used to have dreams. He felt overwhelmed by the realization that he’d lived an entire life before Anders was born, and part of himself hated the other for ruining his dad's plans. Maybe that was why neither of them liked him for so long. 

“I love you, Dad.” Anders said, immediately feeling the need to cry multiply at the embarrassment of saying that out loud. “Thank you for making me breakfast.”

His dad smiled, speechless for a second. “I love you so much, son.” He spoke, his face growing warm in a similar pattern to Anders’. “I always did, even before I met you.”

Anders started crying. His dad stood up, pulling Anders to stand with him. He wrapped him up in his arms and baby Anderson was crying, too. 

“I’m gonna fix this. The best I can.” His dad spoke, voice sounding strained through all the sincerity. “We can have breakfast again next week, okay? It can be our thing.” 

Anders wiped his eyes. “Won’t mom start to get upset if you don’t go to church?” 

His dad wanted to say something, but he didn’t. He shook his head, staying quiet for a long time but not letting his son out of his grip. “I have done this entire thing wrong, for a long time.” He said finally. He gestured between father and son, nearly identical copies of each other. He stopped, shrugging his shoulders. They slanted at the same angle as Anders’. “If your mother wants to be mad at me for fixing my mistakes, she can be. I’m done making her mistakes with her.” He cleared his throat again. “One day she’ll come around. I know she will.”

Anders just nodded, understanding. He didn’t believe what his dad said about his mom, but he believed the rest. He was still sniffling like a child. The front door opened, signaling the end of the moment. Anders quickly rubbed his face clean. 

“I’m gonna go.” Anders told him, hating his mom extra for ruining the only good thing that had ever happened to him. His dad nodded knowingly, looking just as upset as Anders did. “I’ve got, like, four guitars in my room if you ever want to borrow one.”

“Okay, son.” His dad smiled, staying put while Anders tip toed out. Just when he was about to reach the living room his dad called his name, making him pause. “I think we should go get those tattoos. If you want another one.”

Anders laughed, resisting the urge to look to his left where his mother was setting down her purse and kicking off her heels. She didn’t look at him either. 

“That sounds fucking sick, Dad. You just say the word.”

///

On Sunday, after Anders had made his breakfast with his dad and Logan had cut her hair and Rachel had moved everything she’d ever owned into her new home, Harry was having an equally as exciting day. 

He walked down the stairs, having slept in way later than he ever did. He’d been a little miffed when he’d checked his phone, realizing you’d let him spend half his day sleeping. He’d grunted, sitting up. The windows were open, and it smelled like spring today. It felt like spring all over, really, in a way he couldn’t even explain. 

By the time he’d made his way to the stairs his bad mood had vanished. He couldn’t be in a bad mood these days if he’d wanted to. How could he be mad at Y/N for letting him sleep in when she was here? How could he be mad at anything when she was here?

Even when he’d heard the voices coming from the lower level of the house as he descended the stairs, he still wasn’t mad. Worried, obviously. But still in a good mood. 

“What is happening?” He grumbled, rubbing the sleep from the corners of his eyes. The entire house looked like it had been ransacked, things missing and random men wearing masks walking around. It was more like the opposite of a robbery, Harry noticed, seeing the boxes and random pieces of furniture scattered around. He came to his senses, slowly but surely, taking it all in. 

“Baby!!” Y/N shouted, rushing over to him. Before Harry could speak at all she’d covered his eyes with one of her tiny hands, using her other to grip his t-shirt firmly. “You’re not supposed to be awake yet!”

Harry pushed her hand away softly, looking around the room. He took in her subtle disappointment, her lower lip sticking out ever so slightly. (Upon seeing that he actually had to hop off his train of thought to take it between his own lips for a moment). He cleared his sleepy throat. 

“What is going on?” He asked again, trying to force both of his eyes to open as he squinted at his girlfriend. She sighed, frowning. 

“It was a surprise.” She huffed, crossing her arms. She shook her head, disappointed. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t sleep long enough.”

Harry couldn’t help leaning down and kissing her again, longer this time. He kissed her until she let out that breath she was always holding, her feet relaxing off their tippy toes so she could give all of her attention to him. Harry loved the way she always did that, he thought. He should tell her how nice it is. 

Harry forgot about the commotion around them, stopping the conversation entirely for a second to tell Y/N that he loved her so, so, so much. It was true, more so today than ever before. As he continued to kiss her he whispered all the things he’d missed out on saying by staying asleep for so long. He’d wasted so much time, he thought. He could’ve had, like, four more hours with her than he did if he’d woken up earlier. He brushed her hair away from her face, deciding that he wouldn’t tell her about that little breath-holding thing she did when he kissed her just in case she thought too much about it and stopped doing it. He’d die if she stopped doing it, he thought. He knew he would. 

“It’s already 10:30.” He said finally when Y/N pulled away from him all too soon to continue pouting. “How late was I supposed to sleep?”

“At least until 12.” She answered seriously, making Harry’s eyes pinched shut with laughter. He didn’t expect her to actually have had a time in mind. “I purposefully kept you up until, like, 3 just so you would sleep in.”

She never ceased to amaze him. “You fuckin’ what?” He giggled, overwhelmed in that moment by how much he loved her. He was so overwhelmed with gratitude towards the universe that he almost felt choked up. 

“I had a whole thing planned….” She sighed, shaking her head. “Anders said it wouldn’t work but I just thought….”

Holy shit. “Did you ask Anders to call me last night and keep me up?”

“Yeah. He said he kept you as long as he could…”

Harry couldn’t fucking believe his ears. It was all too perfect. Maybe he was just so delirious with affection that he was missing something, but to him this seemed like the funniest thing in the world. Men still wandered about, moving shit here or there and yelling across the room to each other. Harry didn’t even hear them. 

“What was the master plan, huh?” Harry asked, completely oblivious but not even minding it. 

“The plan was to keep you up as long as I could before having Anders call you and keep you up longer so I could sleep and wake up early and you’d be extra sleepy.”

(Harry had spoken to Andy for three and a half hours last night. About literally nothing. Harry figured Anders was in one of those moods where he just didn’t want to be alone and he’d forced himself to stay up as long as he could so he could be there for him. Turns out it was just a silly little trick and not a mental breakdown at all, which was nice.)

“And why am I supposed to be so sleepy?” Harry asked, pulling Y/N into his chest. He looked around again, realizing it wasn’t just new furniture being delivered here but Y/N’s furniture from home. Y/N’s makeup table. Her bean bag chair she never let anyone else but him use. A box with Logan’s handwriting on the side labeled ‘winter clothes’. He looked closer, realizing all at once what was going on. “What’s happening?” He asked again before Y/N could answer his first question. He pushed her back so he could see her face, heart beating erratically. “What is all of this?”

Y/N just huffed. “It’s my stuff from home. Or some of it, at least.” 

Harry heard himself gasp, Y/N confirming what he already knew. He looked around again, and it was true. It was her stuff from home. 

“I was going to ask if it was okay, but then I just decided to go for it. It was supposed to be a surprise once everything was, like, unpacked and everything…” She grimaced, eyeing Harry nervously. “You’re mad, aren’t you? I know I should’ve asked, I just got carried away-“

“Mad?” Harry laughed, both hands coming to cover his mouth as he looked around. He let his head fall forward, his eyes closing. He recovered, looking up again. “This is all your stuff?”

“Most of it.” She nodded, looking uneasy. “Is that okay? I just thought since we’re moved in together…”

“Moved in together?”

“No, I mean- I just meant-“ Her cheeks flushed bright red, her eyes widening. Harry also loved it when she did that, when she got super embarrassed and made that face she always made. He didn’t tell her how much he loved that, either, just so she would always do it. “Like, living together.”

He couldn’t believe his fucking eyes. She’d had all of this shit brought to fucking London from LA, she’d gone through the trouble of getting her own movers and even conspired against Harry so he’d be surprised when it was all done. She brought winter clothes. For winter. He couldn’t help it when his eyes started to sting and he teared up. His throat was tight suddenly. 

“This is amazing, baby.” He choked out, smiling the best he could at her. Her shoulders relaxed, her own smile replacing the worry on her face. “I… I can’t believe you did all of this.”

“I was so worried you’d be mad.” She gasped, taking a deep breath as she deflated. She giggled, relieved. “I was up all night getting ready and I almost called the whole thing off….”

“How early were you awake?” Harry asked incredulously. It was all too good to be true. 

“I told Anders to call me thirty minutes after you guys got off the phone and you were out like a light.” She admitted, looking embarrassed though Harry couldn’t for the life of him understand why. “So like, 3:45 I think. Somewhere around there.”

Harry choked on his next breath, having to turn away for a second to compose himself. He was still a mess when he turned around to face the amazing, chaotic, beautiful girl before him. He pulled her back to him, hugging her tightly. He felt like a little kid on Christmas. 

“Thank you.” He whispered, burrying his face in his hair. She did the thing she always did where she tells him not to thank her, but he did the thing he always did and ignored her. “This means so much to me, baby. This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done.”

She didn’t say anything else, just taking his face and pulling his mouth to hers. He loved the way she kissed him, he thought. Like she was trying to tell him something. 

“Now you’re stuck with me.” She snickered into his lips, thinking she was being cheeky. But as she said it all Harry could think was that this meant she really was going to stay. She wasn’t going anywhere, at least until winter. He choked back the emotion that threatened to bring him to his knees, pushing his hands into Y/N’s hair as he kissed her. He kissed her the way she always did, like she was telling him something. And with every kiss Harry was saying to her, in his own silent way, everything he’d ever wanted to. 

Thank you for not leaving me, he told her. Thank you for being the person who stuck around. Thank you for waiting for me. Thank you for forgiving me. Thank you for letting me grow when I needed to. Thank you for loving me even when you hated me. Thank you for being here. Thank you for bringing winter clothes. Thank you for making me feel like Harry, without the rest. Thank you for staying. Thank you for staying. Thank you for staying. I love you, I love you, I love you. 

And then Y/N did that thing she always did where she gasped for breath between kisses, thinking Harry didn’t hear the way she had to gulp for air. He thought about slowing down, about letting her catch her breath, but he selfishly liked the way she gasped like that. He liked everything about her. He liked the way she gasped and the way she said his name and the way she would say “pleeeease” when he had her really wound up. He liked the way her hands felt on his stomach. He liked the way her legs felt over his, the way her stomach moved when she breathed really hard. He liked the way her cheeks started to turn pink all the way up to her ears and down her neck. 

“Come here.” He mumbled to her, trying to maintain the kiss as he pulled her through the mess towards the stairs. They both stumbled their way across, tripping over a box they hadn’t noticed. It only took them a second to be wound together again, tumbling up the stairs like they were drunk or high or dizzy. 

“You know I love you, right?” Y/N panted, reaching for the doorknob behind her. Harry had his hands around her waist, keeping her against him. He moved his kisses to her neck, mumbling an mhmm. 

“Tell me again so I don’t forget.” He pleaded, throwing the door closed behind them once they’d made their way into the room. “Tell me again.”

“I love you.” She whispered. They bumped into the edge of the bed, tumbling onto their new bedspread that had just arrived a few days earlier. 

“Again.”

“I love you.”

Harry pushed her body down so she was laying, situating himself between her legs. His heart was pounding out of his chest, with excitement and an indescribable fondness. He was overwhelmed again by how much he liked her. She smelled like strawberries today, just like the lotion she’d gotten in the mail from her mom. Harry breathed her in, overwhelmed. Forever overwhelmed. 

“I love you, too.” He rasped to her, “You know that, yeah? You know how much I love you?”

“Yes, baby.”

“No you don’t.” He giggled. “You have no idea. No idea.”

He remembered saying something like that to her at the house party a lifetime ago. It was still true. 

Harry realized suddenly why he must have taken her up here. He must have known the entire time what he was about to do. His stomach flipped, considering it. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes extra tight as if to hide himself, though Y/N wouldn’t have noticed. 

“Baby…” He managed to force out, “Sunflower….”

“What baby?” 

He wanted to say it so bad. It was just there, behind his front teeth. His heart stuttered for a second. 

“Can I show you have much I love you, sunflower?” He whispered, not able to say it any louder. “I want to show you how much I love you. I need to show you.”

The sound Y/N made was enough to put Harry in the dirt. She chirped like a little bird, a short giggle following. Everything felt lighthearted and easy. She hummed into the kiss, letting the sound turn into a soft moan. 

“I want you to show me.” She whispered back. “I love you so much, baby. I want you to show me.”

She mumbled it all, broken up between kisses. She told him again that she loved him, saying it over and over again as the curtain next to the bed whipped around in the breeze. Harry believed her entirely, and he was scared and excited and awestruck and giddy all at once. 

He was finally going to do it, he thought to himself. It was finally happening. He thought about backing out again, but Y/N did that thing again where she slides her hand under his shirt and touches his belly. The butterflies under her fingers flapped harder and Harry folded immediately. He was so nervous he almost felt blinded by it. He took a hand and placed it over hers where she touched him, just under the tattoo. 

“I’m nervous.” He said out loud even though he didn’t want to. She tried to remove her hand but he pressed it down harder so it wouldn’t leave. 

“Sorry-“

“I want it there.” He whispered. “I always wanted to tell you I like it when you touch me like that.”

He wanted to keep that to himself, like all the other secret little things she did and had no idea about, but it just came out. He supposed she could know about one of her little things, at least. He could keep everything else for himself, which was more than enough. 

///

It was while you and Harry were whispering all these sweet little things to each other that the world, already turned upside down, flipped even further. Sunday wasn’t over yet, after all, and that same outside force that pushed Rachel to leave her home and cut her hair, the same propulsion that pushed Anders to tell his dad he loved him, the same hand that guided Harry and yourself up the stairs…. It was moving someone else, too. Right to your doorstep. The one in LA, at least. 

That outside force came in the form of a hard knock on the front door of the house you’d paid for but hadn’t been to in weeks. Logan and Rachel were already knee deep in an episode of New Girl, making it a particularly bad time for visitors, even more so than the pandemic. 

Logan shuffled to the door, annoyed. She’d been alone and totally fucking bored out of her mind with nothing to do for weeks but now that Rachel was here she suddenly had a million things that needed her attention. As minor as it was, she was still pissed. 

But when she opened the door, she didn’t know what to feel. Immediately she was hit with the smell of beer and cigarette smoke. She felt everything at once.

“What in the ever living fuck are you doing here?” She asked. The visitor nearly tipped over, eyes glazed. He shrugged. 

“I came to- fucking shit-“ The guest spoke, steadying himself on the wall with an outstretched arm. His hair had grown out since the VMAs, and it looked like shit. “I came to talk to Y/N. Is she here?”

[annemadebooks]

You Can't Make a Drawing Without Shadows ...

A Madam Secretary Story Subtitled: Bit-Part Players unleash the Dogs of War

Chapter One The team are gathered in the Conference room for their daily briefing. Elizabeth begins: "We have a convoluted plot involving international intrigue, illegal imports, irate Italians and unintentional alliteration. All this needs to be wrapped up in 40 minutes, in time for the incoherent commercials. So going forward, think outside the box, push out the envelope and let's take it to the next level". In unison, they all agreed that this time M-Sec really had lost her mind. But with her trademark flounce, she heads for the door. Then swiftly returns to snaffle the last pastry "Yeah, far too much coffee" said Blake, with a knowing grin "Might be" replied Elizabeth, munching on the Bear’s Claw

Author's Note: Do ex-CIA operatives even flounce? Almost certainly, it's intertwined with flirting and in the same territory as smut – of which there will be absolutely none in this story – except for references to the Rose Garden, sofa-time before the ping, bad traffic in the morning, and an inside-out blouse Oh, okay, there might be a bit … But, we are all very serious adults with very serious jobs, who regard Thomas Aquinas as The GOAT, so here's a picture of a library to quash any thoughts of a cult following

Just in case further evidence was required of zero Heroine worship in a non-cult following, here's a picture of when we first meet Elizabeth … nice and pleasant, then whup! Mic-drop of the first order. Coincidentally, it also depicts that little known sub-section of the flounce manoeuvre; that begins with a single arched eyebrow. Uh-oh, that politics student really had no chance at all.

"Normally, I like the opera, but it’s been a tough week so sitting in a dimly lit room with people singing at me in Italian is just going to make me fall asleep". Going to the opera? Or drinking beer with old spy buddies? Now, that's a difficult decision. Might need to get Ming on a Zoom-Call, but not sure if we've had the "I'll have to speak to you as a friend" speech yet. Also, who is Ming? He doesn't appear until Episode Four. But enough of all these segues, here's some arm-candy

So, having established that this lovely couple has a non-cult following, zero Heroine worship and, a yet to be seen Chinese Diplomat, let's get back to the bagels ... To Be Continued …

madam secretary

[darkx-the-dragon-kn1ght]

Chapter 40- Part 10

Shoot, Jack would have been perfect for this…! Can I even revive him? Let's send in Wulfrum to stall for now-

Turns out, I have no more revival items- which means no bringing Jack back, which means Wulfrum is really gonna need to clutch up here! Let's see if Rock Slide can do the trick!

Oooh, with that Nasty Plot setup, Raichu’s gonna- wait, Wulfrum has Sturdy! He physically cannot be one-shot, no matter what! As long as he hits this second Rock Slide, we should be home free!

Now, I'll need Riptide for this again, but I need a turn to heal him- which means sacrificing Wulfrum, alas.

Just pop an Ice Cream for Riptide, and then…

Alright, let's see what Crunch does this time!

Not bad, but Psychic Terrain is gone now, so Hypno’s Psychic shouldn't do much more damage.

You again…would Glare be best for this? No, Bloom might be better, it'll probably Volt Switch again.

Guess I'll just set up Growth if it's gonna switch out?

It did not use Volt Switch, it's using Foul Play instead! Fine by me, we'll just Giga Drain.

There's that Electivire…maybe it also won't Volt Switch? In that case, I should still send out Glare to weaken its Attack.

Now I'll use Acid Spray so Bloom won't need to worry about boosting his Sp. Attack back up…

Now we'll take a turn to heal with Berry Ice Cream, and send Bloom back in!

And now, we'll see what Giga Drain does!

Ooor not, uh- oh! Oh, shoot, this thing probably has Berserk, doesn't it? Which means I need to kill it immediately, but how to do that, uh…well, it's weak to Fighting, so Vulcan can take care of it, but I'll send in Riptide to hinder it a bit first.

Or he'll almost get one-shotted by Dragon Pulse immediately! Hopefully he can still land this Screech…

All according to plan, totally! Now, Arm Thrust!!

…You know…I could try that Glare/Bloom strategy again, but…I actually wanna see if Vulcan can deal with Electivire himself. We've still got the other two in the back just in case, so it'll be fine if he can't.

Previous

Next

[modern-day-bard]

Worth The Feeling

Content Warning: 18+

This story includes explicit smut, intimidation, and an age gap relationship (MC is 26, Javi is in his 40s). Minors, do not interact.

Chapter 4:

Sure enough, a week goes by without any extra attention from Javi. Lana swears he is still looking at me in between takes, but I know better than to trust a hopeless romantic. I do smile at him occasionally if I happen to catch his eye, but otherwise it is business as usual.

That is until Emma Madden gets rushed to the hospital.

We've almost completed our second full week of shooting. Halfway through the day, we are setting up for a flashback scene between Javi and Emma's character. A flashback to before she was kidnapped, apparently. As we are setting up, another PA called Lloyd in a panic that he was in the ambulance with Emma on the way to the hospital.

Emma had made it to the age of 32 without ever having tried sushi. And she decided that today, at eleven in the morning, was the day that she was going to give it a whirl. The issue is, Emma was unaware that wasabi is virtually made up entirely of mustard seed. And it turns out that Emma was not being a Hollywood snob when it came to her food. She was, in fact, highly allergic to mustard.

Naturally, Lloyd's first reaction was to freak out about when we were going to block this scene. Then one of the producers reminded him that he should be concerned about Emma's welfare, and he took a deep breath, and called the hospital.

Lloyd returned in a few minutes to a silent room full of at least seventy five people, all waiting on a response.

"Emma is alive and well, they're just keeping her until tomorrow to monitor her."

There is a collective sigh of relief in the room.

"And now that that is taken care of, I need someone to come up with a scenario in which we get this scene blocked off today without our leading lady, and somehow miraculously stay on schedule to fly out to Italy in two weeks."

The room grows quiet again. I can tell by Lloyd's eyes that he is a ticking time bomb.

"We need to block this scene today, people!" Lloyd's voice is shaky now. "It's bad enough we can't shoot it today."

"Okay, alright, nothing we can't handle." Henry, one of our oldest producers, claps Lloyd on the arm, startling him in the process.

"We need to block out where to place the actors, correct?" Henry continues talking to Lloyd in a tone that resembles a kindergarten teacher trying to subdue a meltdown. "And it's just Javi and Emma in the flashback scene, right? So let's just get Javi up there and mark camera placement for tomorrow when Emma is back."

"We would need Emma to know where she should be tomorrow. And that's impossible." Lloyd covers his face in his hands.

Henry looks briefly around at the crew, before he makes eye contact with me and I just shrug.

"Ava!" Henry beams. "We can have Ava block the scene and report to Emma tomorrow and explain what marks she needs to hit."

Lloyd looks frantically to follow Henry's line of sight, almost as if he's forgotten who I am. And honestly, maybe he has.

"Why Ava?" Lloyd asks.

No seriously, why me?

"Because she is about the same height as Emma, so the angles will be correct. And she is a PA, exactly the person who could report to Emma tomorrow and make sure she can hit her marks." What Henry really means is, anything can fall under the job description of a PA, and I cost less than a stand-in.

Lloyd checks his watch. "Alright, let's get it done."

As soon as Lloyd concurs, Henry briskly walks over to me and ushers me toward the set. The soundstage today has been transformed from the CIA headquarters to a beautiful hotel room with an office nook and a four-poster bed. The fake windows look out into gorgeous fake scenery that I believe is trying to resemble Paris. I hadn't had a chance to look over the pages today, so all I have to go off of is that it's a flashback to an earlier part of their relationship.

I'm standing in the center of the fake hotel room with my hands at my sides when lights blast on. I've never been on the stage when they're ready to shoot, unless it was to briefly run something up to an actor or take something away from the set at the last minute. The lights are hot and really, really bright. My hands start to feel shaky. I have yet to spot Javi, even though I know he is Emma's scene partner. I can barely see anyone around the stage anymore thanks to the lights, so I'm unsure if anyone has pointed out something for me to do.

"Um, where should I start?" I call out to no one in particular.

"Just wait there Ava. Javi and the coordinator are incoming." I can hear Henry reply for somewhere off stage left.

Coordinator? Is it a fight scene? I don't picture Emma doing her own stunts.

I'm still twiddling my thumbs when Javi and a small woman with a clipped blonde haircut step up into the hotel room. I'm too busy at first trying to figure out who the woman is that it takes far too long for me to realize that Javi is wearing nothing but a bathrobe. It's tied loosely, and a trail of chest hair is peaking through the opening. I can feel his eyes on me and I try my best to take a deep breath.

"Ava, is it?" The pixie-esque woman walks up and offers her hand. "I'm Naomi, the intimacy coordinator."

"Nice to meet you," I smile at her instinctively before I fully process what she just said. "Wait, you're the what?"

"I'll be walking you two through the scene. Since Emma is out, I'll give you the tips on what I'm looking for so you can tell her tomorrow. We'll also focus on getting the camera angles correct so nothing is exposed. So once we finish hitting a mark, we'll place some tape down and move to the next spot. It shouldn't take too long. Any questions?"

"I...um, exposed ?" I can feel my palms start to sweat.

"Oh, don't worry sweetie. We were already on our way when we heard about Emma so Javi was already in wardrobe. We're just blocking, so you can keep what you have on. And if anything makes you uncomfortable, just let us know." Naomi smiles at me.

"I'm going to have a quick chat with the cameraman and be back to lay down the first mark." She steps off the stage and I'm left under the bright lights, trying to pretend that Javi isn't half-naked in front of me.

"She means it, you know." Javi's eyes are still on me, and his face looks borderline apologetic. "If you are uncomfortable, just let me know. I have a feeling that we would still be able to make our flights to Italy even if this wasn't completed today." He rolls his eyes in sympathy.

"Probably...but would we make it through Lloyd's wrath?" Javi chuckles at my comment, seemingly a little relieved. "Just please tell me you have something on under there." I give him a once over with my eyes for dramatic effect, but it has an added effect on me when I really take in the full stature of him. His skin is perfectly bronzed, his shoulders broad and muscular, and the way the robe is tied around his waist... giving just enough away of his abdomen. When I look back up at his face, it almost looks as though he's blushing.

"Yes," He clears his throat, "Not to worry, I'm covered." He pats his leg.

"Okay, folks, let's get going!" Naomi bounds back up onto the set. "This scene is about passion. You two haven't seen each other for several months, so I'm thinking that we have several stops on the way to the bed."

I bite my tongue to keep my nervous laughter from spilling out.

"We're going to start you both by the door, and in each shot we just have to check with the cameramen that the angle is right, sound good?"

I don't trust my voice at this point, so I just nod. Javi does the same.

Naomi walks us toward the fake door of the hotel room.

"Okay, so, the scene begins with you two bursting through the door, all tangled up in each other. Ava, make a mental note of these directions to tell Emma tomorrow."

Javi steps into the doorframe and holds his hands out. I just stare at them.

"Ava, sweetie, you burst through the door all tangled up in each other." Naomi repeats as she gently pushes my back, walking me into Javi's embrace.

"Oh right, right." I whisper. Javi splays his large, warm hands on my back, pulling me in slightly.

"Is this alright?" He whispers, too. I look up at him and nod. His gaze is dark, and that familiar knitted brow is back in the center of his face. With my nod, he pulls me in closer, and I put my arms around his neck.

"Lovely. Now get your faces a little closer together and I'll check with the camera." Naomi instructs.

I wrap my hands a little tighter around Javi's neck. I realize with our height difference that he has no choice but to bend down as I do this. His skin is so warm and soft under the collar of the robe. It makes me shiver despite the hot spotlights. His brown eyes lock onto mine, and I'm hoping he didn't feel my response.

"Camera check!" Naomi calls.

"All clear, both in shot." Someone calls back.

"Great. So from here, I'm thinking that we have Javi press Emma, or in this case, Ava, against the wall once they close the door. And from there, we'll move to the desk."

Javi starts walking me backward before turning me slightly until my back is against the wall. He doesn't move his hands from behind my back, nor do I move mine from around his neck. Our faces are mere inches apart, but I'm trying my best to look anywhere else. Anywhere that would help keep my breathing in check.

Naomi finishes placing tape where we had been before, and then comes over to check our new placement against the wall.

"Okay the spot looks good...but Javi, I wonder if we could have you pin Ava's arms to the wall and you sort of dominate her in this moment. Then we could have a tighter shot of your arms holding her hands back."

Holy shit. I have hardly any hope of controlling my breathing now. And as Javi looks at me expectedly, and I give him the nod of approval, I can't help but let out a shaky exhale. Slowly, so achingly slowly, he drags his hands off my back and slides them up my arms to unhook them from his neck. I can tell that his pace is out of respect. He wants to make sure I have the chance to say that I'm uncomfortable. The problem is, I am way too comfortable with this. With his closeness, his skin, and God, his scent. I've never been close enough to smell him before. He smells like cedarwood soap and the kind of musk that only ever seems to be produced from masculine skin.

Javi threads his fingers through mine and pushes them above my head against the wall behind me. In doing this, his chest is closer than it was before. I try not to notice how good it feels to have my breasts skim both the soft fluffy fabric of the bathrobe, but also the warmth of his bare chest.

That look of concern, or concentration, or whatever makes his face so serious, is still staring at me. I look up at him briefly, only able to handle the intensity of his gaze for a moment.

"Perfect. Ava, make note of arching your back toward him like that for Emma." Naomi approves.

Oh my god. I didn't notice I was doing that. My cheeks burn.

"Camera check!" "Clear. Both on the wide and close shots."

As soon as that is confirmed, Javi practically jumps back from me. I feel a wave of disappointment. I've given so much thought to how good he smells, that I forgot to wonder if maybe I smelled unpleasant. I have been working all day...

But then Naomi tapes where he is standing and I feel embarrassed by my own train of thought. He was probably just making room for her. Two minutes of being in close proximity to this man and I'm losing my head.

"Okay so then Emma is going to push Javi, walk him toward the desk. Sort of take back a bit of that control, you know? But then Javi, you're going to lift Emma, or Ava, up before placing her on the desk. Both of you have missed each other so much you're fighting over who gets to be in control of the moment." I can tell this woman loves her job, but I'm also wondering if she particularly revels in making me as antsy as possible. And with Javi now a few steps away, I'm vaguely aware of the fact that there are nearly one hundred people in the room with us, even if I can't see them right now. I pray that only us, Naomi and the cameramen need to watch this.

"Take it away, Ava." Naomi encourages. I realize that I may have been stalling a moment.

I walk toward Javi and place my hands tentatively on his chest. I give him a similar expression to the one he's been giving me. A silent ask for permission. He glances down at my hands before smirking at me through his hooded gaze.

"You're going to have to push a little harder than that." He teases.

My heart stutters, feeling a little relief from his humor. And also, a little mischievous. "I'm sorry, I thought you were an actor. Act like I managed to shove your tall butt over to the desk." I give him another light nudge.

Javi chuckles and makes a large show out of stumbling backward until his behind hits the desk.

"Better?" He asks, bringing his hands up to cover mine still resting on his chest.

"Oscar-worthy." I say, almost breathless as his large hands envelope mine.

"Okay great, now the lift you guys." Naomi instructs.

"You okay with that?" Javi asks in a low voice.

"Mhm." I nod.

Javi put his hands under my butt and lifts me up against him. I wrap my legs around his torso, and I'm finally at eye level for the first time. I can feel his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. His arms are so strong around me, and I know he can't possibly be winded. Is it possible he's feeling how I am? Like I wish no one else were here right now?

As he places me on the desk, I'm wishing I wore something other than the standard PA wardrobe of a t-shirt and jeans. He looks so unequivocally male, and here I am ready for a long day's work. My legs are still wrapped around him, and at this angle, I don't have many other places to look other than his chest or the band of his boxers that I can now see peeking out of his robe. I have a strange feeling that I wish I was wearing something that could evoke the same feelings that his current outfit gives me. I want to even the score.

"Alright, almost done you two. Javi I want to make sure we can get another tight shot of you kissing Emma's neck tomorrow. Can you hold next to Ava in the same way?"

Javi leans down, hands on either side of my waist, and places his lips on the right side of my neck. His breath is hot, and concentrated right below my ear. I shiver for the second time, knowing that he had to feel it now. But somehow, I'm not as embarrassed by that thought anymore.

Naomi marks the spot and moves us to the bed for the last block.

"Okay so I essentially would like Javi to be between your legs, and sort of crawl up to be on top of her." I feel my mouth go dry. "Once you're above her, we want to take a moment and pause.You two have been waiting for each other for so long, and now the passion takes a backseat for a minute while you soak that in. Sound good? Javi let's have you start at the bottom..." Naomi positions him at the edge of the bed with me laying in the middle.

Javi splays his hands on the bed, one on each side next to my body. It's impossible for me not to stare at how his arm muscles flex, even through the robe. Naomi checks to make sure he is in frame, and then he slowly starts crawling up the bed until he is hovering over me. Unlike before when I could barely keep my breathing in check, now I can't breathe at all. If he lowered himself down just a little bit further, I'd get to feel the sheer mass of him. I wish he would. Somehow I think his weight on top of me would help me breathe easier. Right now, all I can do is look at him, with that same crease in between his eyes, and wonder how good of an actor he really is. I hope that the heat I feel between us isn't one-sided, but his serious expression only leaves me more confused. Maybe he doesn't have to act. Maybe he feels nothing.

"In shot?" Naomi asks out into the abyss of the room below.

"All clear, we got it."

"Excellent. Ava, can you let Emma know that I'd like Javi's hand to travel down to her navel? It's a fade-to-black, so we don't need to go over how to pretend to finger her, but we'd like to be implied."

Javi rolls off me quickly, coughing into his elbow.

"Um, yeah of course. I'll let her know." I say, staring at the ceiling.

"Superb. Well, good job you two! Javi, I'll see you for this shoot tomorrow. I'll go let Lloyd know we're good to go." Naomi prances off the stage.

I take a moment to breathe deeply, still laying in the middle of the bed in this fake hotel room. I sit up finally, trying to think of what to say to Javi. But when I shield my eyes from the lights, I can see him already stalking off in the direction of the soundstage door.

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

[ctrsara]

Fanfic asks

Thanks to @mossrose10 for tagging me!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

83

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

665k

3. What fandoms do you write for?.

Only Marvel (so far) and mostly just Irondad.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Emergency Contacts Flash gets a hold of Peter's phone at a party, and can only access the emergency contacts. Parker has a "Dad" listed in there, but Flash knows his dad died. As a joke, in the heat of the moment, he texts a ransom message to that contact. He didn't expect a very angry Iron Man to show up minutes later.

Cutting Remarks Peter Parker's field trip ends up being at Stark Industries, thanks to a little push from Pepper. Peter makes Tony promise to stay out of it, but Tony has never been great at keeping his distance. FRIDAY basically calls him a stalker. Kids are mean. Peter is self-sacrificing. You know, the usual.

Better Than I Was Rhodey makes it down to the Tower for a visit, and to meet the "intern" Tony has been so busy with, and is surprised by what he finds there.

Sick Day Shouldas Tony gets a call from Peter's school, asking him to pick Peter up because of a migraine, which turns out to be a result of his senses being haywire.

Outside Insights Since he had a head injury that prompted observation for 24 hours, Peter ends up having to shadow Tony as he attends to some SI business. It happens to be "Family Day," and lots of people are confused about the relationship between Mr. Stark and the kid he brought with him.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try hard to respond to every comment. But sometimes I get woefully behind! :( (Like right now!)

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Do any of my fics have angsty endings? Not really... Maybe Near-Arctic Adventures would count with Rhodey's musings at the end, and looking at the series possibly ending in "Infinity War" happening.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of my fics have happy endings... I'm going to randomly pick Birthday Breakout.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not so far. A little constructive criticism here and there. :)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I have not. I don't usually read them either.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't think so.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not yet, though we've talked about it a bunch of times, haha. I've co-brainstormed a bunch, and written a few of those!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

The platonic Peter Parker & Tony Stark one is probably my favorite, but I've liked lots of them in the past. :) Lois/Clark in Lois & Clark: the New Adventures of Superman, Edward/Bella, Jasper/Alice, Spock/Uhura, (that was cheating, wasn't it...)

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I don't have any WIPs I don't think I'll finish, unless it's the AU of my soulmates AU that I started. I don't know if I'll ever post it, therefore I'll probably never finish it.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Grammar and spelling, attention to body language, fun dialogue.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Rambling about things that aren't that interesting, not great at cutting stuff out after I write it. (I'm crap at "killing my darlings.")

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I do some in Italian for Peter and Tony in Hardly Coincidence and the rest of the soulmate universe, but I usually switch to English and just indicate that they're speaking Italian for anything very long. (It has also inspired me to study Italian on Duolingo though, and I have a 225 day streak!)

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I tried writing a Pern fanfiction (Anne McCaffrey's Dragonriders) at least 20 years ago. It wasn't good. I didn't make it past the first chapter, and didn't try again until I was almost 40...

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

How am I supposed to answer that? If I was cheating I'd pick the whole Strands in the Rope series, but maybe Visiting Hours is my favorite standalone.

No pressure tags: @fotibrit, @spagbol99, @asyouleft, @opal-earrings, @niniblack and @cajun-fangirl (and anyone else who wants to do it!!!)

[multimagical]

The Ghosts of Melbrew

Book 1 of 12 in the Multimagical Series by Lillian R.S.

Masterlist

Chapter 1 - "Welcome to Melbrew"

6,025 words

My wattpad / main: @lillianrs

Friendly criticism is welcome for future reference!

Continue reading below the cut, and enjoy! <3

●●●

     It's a dark evening as I begin writing this book. A night where the trees creak outside my windows, with harsh, howling winds in the forlorn wilderness. I'm not sure what finally possessed me to tell this story after all this time, but one thing I've learnt is that you should always trust your gut. So, I'm going where the keys take me, as I trace through my memories.

     It began back when I was only sixteen. So young, so unprepared, so naive, almost innocent. Nothing could've possibly warned me for the journey that lie ahead, for the things I've seen and the places I'd been. For then, in only my teens, my life changed in more ways than I could've ever imagined. I wasn't prepared to have my reality turned on its head, I wasn't prepared to see the truth, and I most certainly wasn't prepared to see the things that were not meant to be.

     I've stayed in this town my whole life. I've seen faces come and go, and am good friends with the ones who've stayed. This place is different than it once was, but it still has some traces of its cursed past, though now faded from time. Somedays it feels strong, like I can feel it through the roots in the Earth. Yet other times it feels distant, and unwilling to show.

     I've experienced a lot in my life, yet nothing has ever compared to the things that I had seen at the young age of seventeen. No one ever believed me, believed us. We never maintained solid proof, all of our camera evidence was destroyed during the ritual, but us seven know the truth... well, us seven, and the others silently involved who now refuse to acknowledge it. But those are all faces who have gone, to where, I'm not sure.

     So, I suppose I'm here now, the next Robert J. Wright, the next Lord Lutho, the next Jane Howell who will become a mere conspiracy in the darkest corners of a library, waiting to be discovered, and inspire the next generation of those who seek the truth. I work at the school now as the librarian, and I take responsibility in preserving the stories here. Though I feel that now in my present, the whispering warnings we've heard long ago are to soon reign true... I just hope that the message can reach others, before it's too late. There's only so much we can do.

--------

     My parents and I had to move across the country when I was sixteen years old. They are both photographers, and had gotten a job offer from a studio in Metalwood City. This studio in particular wanted them to focus on photographing both rural and urban life for usage in magazines and websites. Though we couldn't do this where we had previously lived, as the job specifically required the photos to come from the state of Washington. It had a much better pay than their previous job, and my parents were up for a change of pace, so they took them up on the offer.

     Metalwood was a short 40 minute drive from a small rural town called Melbrew. Living there was extremely cheap, and my parents figured that they could run between the town and city for their pictures. Unfortunately, they were unaware that cheap living often comes with a different type of price to pay.

     This town was founded by two brothers with the last name Melbrew, of course. It lay near the west coast of Washington state, with only a fifteen minute drive to the Pacific ocean. It was kind of in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by lakes and forest on all sides. That was the extent of my knowledge at the time of moving. I wondered if it would even be worth it to live there, but that decision wasn't mine to make. I never got to have a say in much.

     My parents had sprung the moving announcement on me out of nowhere, leaving me with only a few weeks left before the move, the process started immediately. I was mad and upset, but I knew that there was nothing I could do to prevent it. I had to suck it up and go along with it, however sad it may have been. It was hard.

     I enjoyed the last few weeks with my friends the best I could, however good it would be to say a final goodbye to people you would probably never see again. We all promised to stay in touch, but does anyone really? I'll move on and make new friends, and they'll soon forget about me, only to be brought up occasionally with a "Hey, remember Emmy?". It's not sad, it's just realistic. But sticking to the positives, they weren't really the best of friends anyways.

     My last day was depressing, but also quite terrifying, considering I would be moving all the way from western Pennsylvania to the state of Washington. That was on the complete other side of the country!

     My nerves those final few days were dreadful, I remember them all vividly. The rapid heartbeat, the feeling of leaving everything I've ever known behind... It felt like a clock was ticking down to my death and rebirth. In a way I felt I was dying, as overly dramatic as that sounds. I would be leaving everything and starting again, but as scary as the thought was, it also excited me. The death was the hard part, the afterlife is the easy one.

     It took us a about a week to get there, as we had to drive the whole way, but I'm not going to get into the whole moving process as it isn't important. Lots and lots of feilds out in the rural parts of America. Day after day, hotel after hotel. It was almost surreal and creepy, especially at night. A part of me almost wished we had stayed in some sketchy motel that's the only thing on a stretch of road. Now that's where the fun is!

      I sighed a breath of relief when I was finally told that we were almost there. Slowly the wheat feilds turned to forests and trees, that's all there was, just trees. After a few minutes a giant wooden sign appeared, reading, "Welcome to Melbrew". The letters were faded and it was hard to read, but still ledgebale nonetheless.

     I unbuckled my seatbelt and turned off my music as curiosity took its hold on me. Rolling down my window, I stuck my head outside and let the wind and rain hit my face. The smell of water and pine was strong in the air, and the town was rather grey. The clouds in the sky paired with the looming trees blocked quite a bit of sunlight, it was rather gloomy.

     The forest was now less dense as houses stood next to each other, all with their own areas, lawns, and garages, decently spaced apart from each other. Before I knew it, we were pulling into a driveway. With the car now in park and silent, raindrops could be heard pounding against the roof. Of course now is when it begins to pick up and pour!

     It rained for a full two days after we got there, which made moving in much harder than it already was going to be. We didn't have very much stuff though, as taking too much across the country wouldn't be easy. Nevertheless, I was in love with the scenery. All the trees, the rain, the near darkness in midday. It was very cozy, to me, at least.

      My cat was definitely not happy with the car ride, so I'm sure the old senior boy was glad to be out of his carrying cage. His name was Sir. Bennington the Fifth... there were no other Benningtons. Child me just thought it was funny. Nowadays I call him Benny.

     The house that I would now have to call home was of a decent size and stood on a corner street. Its outer panels were beginning to peel, and vegetation coated the lawn with various plants and grasses. When the rain died down afternoon had turned to evening, and the sound of birds, owls, and crickets filled the misty darkened air.

     There was a humble little farm across the road from us, and a few other houses nearby. Other than that, it was pretty vacant, lying near the northern outskirts of the town by wooded area, though the whole town was surrounded by woods, so it's not that special a detail. It felt very secluded.

     I wished we could've moved before the school year started, but I guess I'm also glad it was early on in the year instead of later. I tried to look on the positive side, instead of being pessimistic once I got there and had to confront this new life. There was no point in being sad about something I couldn't change, as much as I wanted to be. I got my sadness out the weeks before, now it was time to move on. Is it toxic positivity? Maybe. I'll get over it.

     That first night felt so... different. I'm not sure how to describe it. The sound of the rain falling on the roof, the wind outside, the eerie quietness of everything else. My practically empty room with nothing but a bed and a box of clothes. The yellow lighting and old-fashioned floral wallpaper, paired with the old, dusty wooden floors that would creak beneath your feet. That smell of dirt, and the ticking of an ancient clock that was left behind. It all made me feel stuck in time.

     It was very difficult for me to fall asleep. New environments paired with the fear of going to a different school kept me tossing and turning all night. I feel that Benny could sense my discomfort, as he nudged my door open to come sit on my chest. It was only then that my mind felt enough at ease to drift off to the realm of dreams.

     My parents walked me to school on my first day to make sure that I didn't get lost and knew the way. The town is very small and half of it seemed to be abandoned, so I didn't see a need for it, but hey, whatever makes them happy. Once the school was in sight, though, they backed off and waved me goodbye.

     The school was on the other side of the town from me to the south, so it was quite a long walk, about half an hour. The elementary and middle school were separate, but kept in the same general area. They were all brick buildings under the cloudy, grey morning sky that only just then began to brighten. The American flag waved in the wind, the eerie quietness absorbing me once more.

     It wasn't all that grand, in fact, it was quite the opposite. It looked rather decrepit and run down, but not to the point where it looked horrid and grossly unsanitary. Well, I mean, there were a few broken windows boarded up, and vines and grass growing up the sides, but it wasn't, like, dirty.

     Really, I doubt anyone around here even notices the appearance, but my fresh new eyes did. Though despite the vintage look that the town carried, I could still tell that it used to be rather well-kept, even though some areas even looked abandoned nowadays. There was a history to this place, I could just feel it. It was in the air, and on the scars the buildings carried. The stories they could tell...

     I pushed on the double glass doors of the highschool, which were smudged and slightly stained with dirt. They closed behind me in an echoed click, seemingly sealing the outside world away as the sound of wind was left behind me. The main entrance wasn't very spacious, unlike my last school. It made me feel a little confined and claustrophobic, but I was sure I'd get used to it. I was sure I'd get used to everything, though maybe that was still my want to be positive talking.

     The door to my left had a sign reading, "Main Office'', and the door to my right had a sign that read, "Guidance Office", which were both carved into golden plates that now looked brown. Okay, good to know. That was all that was in the entrance hallway.

     I wiped my feet on the entrance mat and made my way to the hallway, though my shoes still squeaked against the tiles. On the wall was a little red sign with directions, which I followed to my homeroom, which would be to my right. The voices of fellow students began to fill my ears, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, I began to feel anxious.

     "Hello, Emeline!" My teacher said as he saw me enter the classroom. I walked over to him and we shook hands. "Welcome to Melbrew High School! I'm Mr. Brown, and I'll be both your homeroom and algebra teacher. If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask me or one of the other staff members."

     I thanked him and he told me where to sit, so I took my seat, and sat quite awkwardly. My bookbag sat next to me on the floor, my phone gripped tightly in my hands. People continuously glanced over to me, I tried my best to ignore them. The whole place felt off.

     Not just off, though, it was straight up oldschool. The whole town was. There were no smart boards, nor overhead projectors. Just an old, green chalkboard. The lighting was also pretty dim and more... yellow? Yellow seems to be a favorable lighting choice here, I suppose. I obviously assumed that the budget was pretty low, as I haven't seen just a chalkboard in the class since I was in the third grade.

     As I waited in my seat, I looked around the room to the other students, who thankfully stopped starting at me. Two came up to greet me for a few seconds, but the rest either paid me no mind or just looked over to me. Some gave off weird, creepy vibes with their stares. I felt really out of place, it was kinda giving me impostor syndrome, to be honest. I felt like I shouldn't be there. Just the feeling of being the new kid, I guess.

     I began to get lost in my thoughts, staring into the abyss. That is until I jumped out of them due the unnecessarily loud overhead speakers. We all stood to say the pledge, then the announcements began, spoken by an upbeat girl, which seemed almost humorous to me given the boring scenery... well, either humorous or creepy, but you can be the judge of that.

     "Good morning, Melbrew students! Today is Monday, September 26th, 2016! For lunch today, the cafeteria will be serving spaghetti, tomorrow will be taco Tuesday! The breakfast for tomorrow will be pancakes! If you are going on Ms. Hogg's field trip this spring, your permission slips are due before Christmas break! There are still a few spots open for the book and biology clubs, so hurry and claim your spot fast before it's too late! Speaking of clubs, sign ups for the brand-new history club will be on Thursday, and they will meet every other week! Have a great day, Melbrew!"

     The announcements cut off and students resumed chatting with one another as we waited for the bell to dismiss us to first period. When it finally did, I stayed seated for geometry, while everyone else left. I didn't like the looks people gave me as people walked in for first period. Definitely felt like an invader. God, I was so out of place.

     Once geometry was over, I had to head to my second class, which was a study hall. I wasn't exactly sure where it was, though. It's easy to get lost in a place where every hallway looks the exact same. Everyone fled out of the classroom, except for me and one other student who was taking his time to leave. I guess I'll just go ask him.

     I approached the student, "Hello! I'm new to this school. Would you mind directing me to the library?" I asked as politely as I could.

     He paused what he was doing for a few seconds and looked up at me, before shaking his head and continuing on with what he was doing. He zipped up his backpack, stood up, and answered, "I'm going there. Just follow me."

     He spoke in a monotone, nonchalant voice. He said nothing else, and threw his bag over his shoulder as he walked out of the classroom, not even waiting for me. I hurried to follow him, feeling a bit awkward at his lack of acknowledgement.

     He was Asian with dark hair and lighter skin, though his face looked tired as bags sat under his eyes. He wore an old, grey baseball team hoodie that was now stained with mud, and had a hole on the sleeve. His backpack looked like it was being held together by ductape alone.

     I attempted to make conversation, "Um. My name is Emeline Orman, do you mind me asking yours?"

     He didn't say or do anything at first, as he seemingly ignored me. Thankfully for my own self-assurance he eventually shrugged slightly and said, quietly, in the same toneless voice, "Kai."

     I observed the hallways a bit as we walked, which all had the same beige colored tiles lining the walls. This school's color palette definitely wasn't the prettiest sight for sore eyes, but then again it could always be worse. Gotta remember that optimism, look on the brightside. The brightside being that I felt like I was in a mystery novel, so I'll take it! The buzzing lights and lack of people definitely added a whole layer to the ambiance.

      When we got to the library, he walked off and sat down at a table in one of the more hidden sections of the place, tucked behind some bookshelves near a corner. He immediately pulled out an extremely old looking book from his bag.

     "What are you reading?" I asked curiously, but he just looked up at me, said nothing, and looked back down. I waited to see if he would say anything, but he didn't. "...Am I bothering you?"

     "Yes." he said, matter-of-factly, without taking his eyes off the book. He rested his head lazily against his hand.

     "Sorry, I'll leave you to it." I said, and walked away. I decided to go and look around, I really didn't want to upset people on my first day, that's a good way to make enemies and I was not looking for that, especially in a place that looks like a good setting for a horror movie. Next thing you know you'll be choked to death by a vampire, or something weird like that.

     It wasn't a really big library, but it did have a whole lot of stuff in it. Lots of bookshelves, tables, and doors leading to I don't know where. There were even a few computers, and that's saying something! Usually libraries have all sorts of them, but here there's only four, as it seemed. In a place that doesn't have smartboards, I consider it impressive. They were all already in use, three doing work, while another pulled up games.

     I spotted a little hallway near the back between some bookcases, and decided to check it out. It led to another room, with more tables, and a door with a sign saying STAFF ONLY. Standing against a wall was a large, moveable whiteboard on wheels. There were all kinds of papers on it, held down by magnets. Written in blue marker was a list of clubs, and what days they will meet. I read down the list, and then jumped a little when a teacher approached me unexpectedly.

     "Hello dear, I don't believe I've seen you before, are you that new girl? The Ormans?" The teacher asked as she entered the room. She looked like your classic, stereotypical librarian lady. She had glasses, her hair was in a bun, but she didn't look to be too old.

     "Oh, uh, yeah, that's me. I'm Emeline Orman." I said, and held out my hand to shake hers.

     "Well, Emily, I'm the school's librarian, Mrs. Robinson." She said, and looked to the club sheet I was just checking out, "Are you interested in any clubs? We hold most of the meetings here in this room. It's a good way to meet some new friends!"

     "I might be." I said, shrugging. "What do the different clubs do?"

     "Well, most of them are already full, but we're offering sign-ups for a new club, as you probably heard on the announcements, if you paid attention, that is." She said and chuckled, "Most kids don't. The history club is brand new and just starting out, but there are also a few spots still open for the book club. It's what you would imagine, we give you a book, and you read it, and talk about it with your peers. There's also the biology club, I believe there's quite a few spots still open for that one, if you're interested. Ms. Hogg runs that one. She does lots of expeditions in the woods to look for little critters."

     "Hm. Do you know what they'll be doing in the history club?" I asked.

     "Well, I'm not entirely sure just yet. This year is the first it'll be up. If I had to guess though, probably various activities involving history, I think specifically on the town. I manage the book club, but if you're interested in town history I would ask Mr. Marshall about it when you can. He's room 105."

     "Alright, will do. Thank you, Mrs. Robinson."

     "Anytime, love. If you ever have any questions, you can always find me here."

     I walked back out into the main part of the library and decided to look around a bit to get familiar with the layout of the place, and maybe look at a book or two. After getting bored of it, I went back to the little room with the whiteboard and sat at one of the white plastic tables that were lined against the walls. There was no one back there, so it made me feel more comfortable.

     The time dragged on since I had nothing to do, and I was actually happy when the bell rang for third period. It was time to go to English, which I had to find on my own. Luckily the English hallway was near the library, and all someone had to do was point down the hall. I stepped inside and greeted my teacher, Mrs. Palmer, and she showed me to my seat. Once English was over, I headed to my fourth period class, which was History. I went in and greeted Mr. Marshall. Once the period ended and the bell rang, I decided to ask him about the club.

     "Um, excuse me, Mr. Marshall? May I ask you about the history club?" I asked. "I heard about it on the announcements this morning, and I think that I might be interested in it."

     He looked a bit surprised, and turned to a kid walking out the door, "Dominik," he said, "Where are you heading?"

     "Computer, sir." He answered.

     "Tell Emeline here a bit about the history club. I think you'll be better at it."

     "Sure thing!" He said, and nodded his head out the door for me to follow.

     "Why couldn't he just tell me about it himself?" I asked once we were out of the class.

     "Well, you asked him at the end of the period, and it would take a while to explain. Plus, you're obviously new and I think that he thinks that this is the perfect way for you to make friends," he stopped in the middle of the empty hallway, and stuck out his hand, "My name's Dominik, but you already knew that, because he kinda said my name, but whatever. If you'd like new information on the name though it's Dominik with a K."

     I shook his hand, "Emeline, but you already knew that, too."

      We continued walking, "Did all your teachers introduce you today? I wouldn't doubt if people start calling you Emily, if they haven't already, I've never heard of Emeline. That's like Emily but with extra steps... no offense."

     "None taken. My parents just wanted to be different, but if it helps, you can just call me Emmy. Or Emma, or Em, or even Emily, really. They're all the same thing. Though usually I go by Emmy. Cute childhood nickname that just kinda stuck."

     "Well then, Emmy, allow me to give you a run down." He said, "First of all, NEVER drink from the water fountains after Douglass Bailey has touched them. Just- trust me on that. Secondly, there's a crap ton of weird stuff around here so don't freak out over something strange, it's probably normal. Oh, and third of all, you should DEFINITELY stay away from the northwest side of town. The abandoned part with the park, and the mountains, and the cemetery, and all that. That's practically begging for trouble."

    "Well, that's good to know, I guess. Why is the northwest bad?"

     "Oh, you'll see. Or more so hear. It's impossible not to. We are definitely going to be late for class, but that's okay. Not to brag or anything, but most of the teachers love me. How about my friend and I tell you a little bit about the club at lunch? The history in this place is... well, interesting, to say the least to a new comer." He said as we approached the class.

      "Dominik, you're late!" The teacher said as he walked in the class, but he didn't sound angry at all.

     "I was helping out the new girl Emeline, Mr. Adams. Sorry about that."

     "No problem, take your seats, and Emily, find a free one."

     Dominik whispered towards me, "told you." I smiled a bit.

     A kid with bright green hair started excitedly slapping an empty seat next to them, and Dominik gestured to it with his hand. I sat in it.

     "Who she?" The green-haired kid asked.

     "A new girl who is interested in the history club," Dominik answered.

     "Oh! That's fun, a newbie. I've always wanted to teach a newbie!" They said, and turned to me. "Hi, I'm Cameron! And despite what people may tell you, I am in fact a boy. Actually, I'm just straight up feral. I'm a menace to society. A man in the shadows. An enigma. Cameron Payne Johnson, certified local cryptid freak and proud!"

     "Oh, well, it's... nice to meet you? I think?"

     I looked between the both of them, and I wondered how they could look like they have completely different interests, yet be friends who apparently have common ground.

     Dominik looked like your typical smart person. He was decently tall, and had dark, curly hair that was pulled up into a little bun. A few short curls were falling down into his face, which he pushed back with his hand, then adjusted his glasses. He was black, but more on the lighter side. He was well-dressed, and wore a long beige lab coat over a dark red turtleneck sweater. He looked like the type of kid who would remind the teacher we had homework.

     Cameron on the other hand was short, and had naturally brown hair. Half of his head was shaved, and the part that wasn't shaved was dyed an obnoxiously bright neon green that felt like an assault to the eyes. He wore a black hoodie tied around his waist, and had ripped, black, skinny jeans. His shoes were dirty, old-looking converse. He worse a black T-shirt with a skull on the front, the black clothes contrasted his pale skin. He looked like a mix of punk and emo, and his nails were painted both black and green.

     Mr. Adams began teaching. Towards the end of the period, everyone began to chat again, "Did all of this school's budget go into this room, or what?" I asked.

     "Dude I don't know, man." Cameron responded, "I always see vids from other people and they've got like fancy tech boards and shit. Meanwhile I'm out here like what the fuck is a smartboard? And apparently libraries are supposed to have like, 30 computers in them? Fucking foreign, dude. These are like, our only computers. I have a theory that the principle is hording money."

     "It is way too early to start on your conspiracies, Cam." Dominik said.

     When the bell rang, class ended, and the three of us headed to the cafeteria together, as we three all had lunch 6th period. They took their packed lunches and sat down at a table, and I went up in line. Once I had my food, I took my tray and went to sit by the pair I just met.

     "Yo, I really wouldn't eat that," Cameron said, "That shit's prolly poisoned or sumthin." Dominik lightly smacked the back of his head.

     "Don't scare her, Cam!" He turned to me, "The food is just a little weird, and he's also like actually insane, so don't listen to him."

     "Oh, please. I'm not insane, I'm just eager for unexplainable shit to be real... and also the food is just one of the minor conspiracies about this place, and the poison is also just one version!"

     "Just let her eat in peace for her first day, she just got here! You can start on your rants tomorrow." He turned to me and whispered, "Though I definitely would advise to pack your lunch for the rest of your time here."

     "Um, okay," I said, laughing nervously. I then changed the subject, "So, about the history club..."

     "Oh, the history club," Cameron said, leaning back a little bit, his hands resting behind his head, and his legs intertwined with the poles under the table so he doesn't fall backwards, "whaddya wanna know 'bout it?"

     "Well, what will you be doing in it?"

     "Well, the question is," he said dramatically, leaning forward. He then slapped his hands on the table, "can we trust you?"

     "What? Why?"

     "It isn't just a history club, Mr. Marshall is just as interested in the weird stuff going on around here as we are. So, can we trust you with the secret of keeping the clubs activities classified?"

      "Of course, my life's boring, this sounds interesting." I said. Cameron narrowed his eyes at me.

     Dominik looked at Cameron, and signaled him to go on. "Keep it to a minimum, Cam, we don't wanna spill too much. Though chill out on the drama, man, it's just town history."

     "Oh, it's more than town history, Dominik!" Cameron exclaimed, "Okay, so, Mr. Marshall told us that he convinced the school that it'll be a club about, well, history, but, actually, we're gonna be divin' into the conspiracy theories of this place. He's a relatively young teacher, about in his 20s or some shit. He said he got an interest in all this because his grandfather knew the Humphrey family, you'll learn about them... If you join."

     "...Sooo, the school thinks it's just going to be about the town's history, but it's for town-centered theories?" I asked.

     "Yup! But there's evidence, oh believe me, there's evidence! It's just not widespread enough. Most people don't even know about the murders. Not to freak you out or anything. It was a long time ago."

     We went on to eat our lunch, having casual conversation... as casual as a conversation can get when someone like Cameron is leading it. Afterwards I was headed to my 7th period class, which was my language class. Soon before the bell rang to start class, a short, bored-looking asian girl walked in. She had to have been about the ages of twelve to thirteen, but visually appeared to be younger. She had bangs and two ponytails on the sides of her head, tied with blue bows.

      She slammed her books down on my desk, "Get out of my seat or I'll throw hands, freckle face."

     "Kimora!" The teacher said, coming into the class, "We will not be 'throwing hands' and calling names in this class. Emeline, could you please pick a different desk? Kimi came in late today, and she's very picky about her seat."

     "Oh, of course," I said, and she greeted me. Her name was Madame Martian. I went and took a different seat, and went on with the class. Kimi was apparently a smart middle schooler who got to come to the high school for language class.

     Finally it was time for my last classes of the day. My 8th period class was gym on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I had another period of my science class, which was my 9th and last class of the day.

     Since today was Monday, I had gym. We played badminton, which was fun. That fun didn't last for long though, as nothing could've ever prepared me for my biology class. Not the eeriness, nor the rumors or weird conspiracies. It was the final slice of my introductory cake of what I was about to be subjected to for the rest of the year.

     It was a classroom near the back of the school, and the walk there felt kind of... off. But it was a different kind of off than the off everything else was. I'm not sure if that makes sense, but it seemed as if all the other rooms in that hallway were unused. To the left, there was one final hall of doors, and it led to a dead end. At the end of the main hallway I was walking down, there was a pair of doors leading to an outside parking lot. Towards the end of the hall, I headed into the room on the right.

     There I was faced with an odd looking classroom, older than the others. As if the other rooms had touch ups done over the years but this one didn't. I noticed immediately that this was the class that had that one boarded-up window I spotted that morning.

     Unlike my other teachers, Ms. Hogg didn't come and greet me, and didn't really look too inviting on me greeting her, so I kept to myself. I sat down in a free seat, feeling very uncomfortable, even more so than before. The worst it had been all day. God, I could've puked. It was so off that it became physical, sickening.

     Ms. Hogg had a vibe to her, and not a good one. She looked both old and young at the same time, and gave me the impression that's she's killed someone before, but I have no idea why. It felt very strange, I was deeply unsettled by that teacher, she gave me a bad feeling in my gut, right down to her voice and physique.

     During class she talked about the anatomy of different animals, and briefly mentioned a project that we'll be starting tomorrow. This was a very biological focused biology class. I thought we were going to be learning about DNA or whatever, but okay, sure.

     I left the class feeling uneasy, and totally ready to leave that damn building and go back to my house. I was caught off guard and startled when I was suddenly pushed to the cold ground.

     "Move out of the way!" A tall blonde girl from my class yelled in a mean tone, "You should pick up the pace next time, I don't like to be slowed down!" She stomped away, laughing with two friends as her heeled shoes clicked against the ground, echoing throughout the confined halls.

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[throwsomecheeseonit]

20 Years of Clean-Chapter 15

We made the rounds and was impressed by his friends/ Royals starting lineup. All of their wives were absolutely stunning and frankly, I felt out of place. They didn't make me feel that way it was just my inner voice that made me feel like that. It was hard to remember names so for the sake of this narration we will use my inner monologue and their beauty for inspiration.

Golden Hair: "Brandon can we borrow your girl and get some shots"

Me: No. No. I don't need any shots. I'm good.

Perky Ass: " Come on. We're celebrating. Don't make us peer pressure you. Pretty please." Batting her eyelashes.

Perfect Teeth: "Yeah. Come on. You don't mind Brandon do you?"

He just laughed and shrugged his shoulders, "I can't speak for her." They proceeded to look at me and jut their lower lips out at the same time. "Fine! You are peer pressuring me by the way!" Red grabbed my hand and pulled me to the bar with the girls in tow. I asn't the most outgoing person and this particular interaction was out of my comfort zone. I looked over my shoulder to see if Brandon was there if I needed help. He was there alright with 2 other ladies, that I didn't recognize, engaged in conversation. A twinge of jealousy started to build in my chest. Turning back around, the girls didn't notice and Golden Hair was buying a round of Kamikaze shots. "Batten down the hatches babies and lock up your men because we're going wild tonight," Red shouted. "Cheers," the women shouted and smiled at each other in unison. They had to have been cheerleaders in the past with their perfect perkiness. "So, Michelle. How long have you and Brandon known eachother?" "I'm going to give you the edited, condensed version. About 30 years." Every single one of them gasped. "30 years, how old are you?!, Perky ass asked. "I'm 37, he's 38. We've known each other since Elementary School." They all "Awww'd" at my admisson. "So are you guys dating now, that's soo cute," Red cooed at me. Looking over my shoulder again Brandon was with 1 of the 2 girls he was speaking with. Her hand was on his shoulder. "Doesn't look like it," gesturing towards him and the other. "Don't worry about that. We call them groupies. It doesn't mean anything." "I need another shot," a low growl in my throat. The bartender granted my request. "Honestly, I don't know what we are. We've been talking for months and this is probably the third time I've seen him since our 20 year reunion. I don't know what he does on the road. Look, we're almost 40. Do 40 somethings call each other boyfriend and girlfriend? That sounds so strange. Were just friends I guess." It hurt to say out loud but it was the honest truth. The alcohol had me spewing my absolute truth to these beautiful strangers. The buxom Blonde talking up Brandon stood on her tip toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek and a pinch on the ass before walking off. "Another," red asked. "Keep 'em coming." "How do you guys deal with that, the groupies. I don't think that's something I could deal with constantly." "We're just used to it by now. What's a relationship without trust? You have to have thick skin being a girl of a pro athlete." "I guess. I commmend you guys," starting to slur my words. By this time, we were 4 shots deep and the bestest of friends. "You have nothing to worry about. Look at the way he looks at you.," Perky ass motioned towards Brandon. It took a moment for my eyes to focus out the bluriness and when they did I saw 2 of Brandon. His fine ass was looking at me and smiling from ear to ear. The unmistakable effects of alcohol warming his cheeks. HIs hair was little messier and his suit jacket was hanging on the back of the chair in front of him. I didn't smile back. I still felt the pang of jealousy in gut, also the effects of my lingering buzz. "He's drunk. Thats the look of obliteration my dear." They all laughed and perky ass gave me a hug. "You girls want to dance," Golden hair piped up. "No thanks. You girl go ahead. I'm gonna stay here."

I did shimmy my way to where Brandon was standing. Mad at him for no apparent reason other than he entertained a conversation with some Bimbo. "Hey baby," he tried grabbing for me. I stayed still, not moving towards him any further. Not deflecting his advances but also not giving into them. "What's wrong," his voice low and serious. "Nothing. You just have a lot of groupie friends." "That was nothing," waving his hand around in the air. "They all want a piece but they can't have me." He winked to further his point. "And why is that slugger," mocking him. He threw his head back with a loud drunken giggle. "Ladies and Gentlemen! Can I have your attention please! Yo Listen up!," Brandon shouted over the crowd, even the music went silent. "What are you doing," asking him in a tortured whisper. "This Beautiful, Sexy woman is my girl. No one else. I flew her out here to be with me and she's the only one I'm interested in. Groupies beware!" My girl group started cheering along with every guy in the place. Instantly turning red, I inched closer to Brandon and tried hiding under his massive arm but he didn't let me hide. He grabbed me, dipped me and gave me a big, happy, wonderful sloppy kiss in front of everyone. "Now, if you excuse us were going home." I just stood there stunned and mortified but deep down my soul was beaming with happiness. Massive applause could be heard all the way from the venue to the Uber we took home.

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"Do you want to have sex with me?." Brandon's question caught me completely off guard. My head was already swimming, dorwning actually in alcohol. "Like right now," confusion splayed across my face. "Not necessarily." Brandon was slurring his words completely intoxicated. "Of course I want to have sex with you but. Can this conversation wait until we are at your place. Not in this uber." The uber driver looked at me from the rear view mirror. This couldn't be anymore awkward. "Fine," Brandon crossed his arms like a little boy who wasn't allowed to get a cookie from the cookie jar.

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Five minutes later we were at his building making the wobbly trek up to his apartment. As soon as the door closed behind us Brandon was right back into this rather unexpected conversation. "So what's the deal? Are we friends? Have I been friend zoned," he plopped down on the leather sofa. Honestly, this discussion should be done when we were sober because I had no tolerance for this affront at the moment. "Can we have this conversation when we're level headed," asking him. "No. We are having it right now." Brandon's voice was very deep and stern. "Fine. Of course I want to have sex with you. I'm very attracted to you." I was beginning to wonder if his friends were in his ear saying something like, you haven't hit that yet. "Where is this coming from Brandon?." "Ohh you used my first name. I must be in trouble," he said mockingly. "You barely touch me. I feel like I'm the only one who shows affection. Not to mention we barely see each other. I've wanted to jump your bones since you got here but you just don't seem interested. His admission made me cringe a bit. I've wanted to jump his bones too but when we were in Tampa he expressly told me he wanted to take it slow. "Aren't you the one that wanted to take it slow in Tampa? I'm not trying to muck things up between us." At this point all I wanted to do was go to bed. "That was Tampa Michelle. How long ago was that? 2 months. We have played it slow." "I think it's best that I sleep in the spare bedroom tonight," crossing my arms and making a little huff sound. "What?! Why, because I wanted to have an honest conversation with you." He couldn't hide his hurt and agitation. "Because it's been a long day. We're both drunk and I don't want to say something I'll regret in the morning." "Fine," he stood up from the couch, walked to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him.

Our first fight, drunken fight might I add. His anger ticked me off even more. How dare him slam the door, give me attitude. If anything I should be the one with the attitude, girls all up on him all night, kissing his cheek and pinching his ass.

My reflection in the mirror was sad. I would be lying if I said I didn't shed a tear or two while removing my makeup. Was this it? Were we over before we even really began? I composed myself and went to lay down. Tomorrow morning i'll be better rested and ready to make a game plan. He wasn't wrong about showing affection. I don't think he was able to now how long i've felt for him. This is brand new for him and for me this is somewhat of a fantasy I've had since we were teenagers. He wouldn't know because I never expressed that at fear of driving him away. Tomorrow morning will be better.

[inevitableisopod]

The Heroic age pt2, Ringing steel

"We, the warrior of the king, made our stand on top of a hill, a good place as far as doomed stands go, after all there were almost 80 of them, and only 40 of us. we thought that was it, but our king had other ideas; donning his helmet, crown and protection both, inlaid with copper and gold wire and plated in silver with garnets scattered across the surface; decided to charge the enemy lines. i sighed, and drew my sword, taking a moment as ever to stare at the twisting and winding patterns trapped in the iron, then started to run. i supposed there were worse ways to die"

Hello again my beloved readers, we start todays chapter in our story with an apology about delays in my upload schedule. unfortunately i had to do actual work for once in my life, but i have returned! i'm sure you all thrilled.

anyways! so we've introduced our setting with our cast and setting, namely a roman abandoned Britain, and populated by a variety of angles, britons, saxons and other assorted celtic cultures. so, how were they armed? they were mainly armed with spartha type swords, which were relatively long double edged blades (usually 75-90 cm in length) with rather short hilts with an upper and lower guard, capped by a pommel. the guards were either side of the hand, and were usually 2 plates of iron or other precious and semi precious metal with an organic core, like wood or horn.

the blades were where these swords shined however, they were made of iron cores, and steel edges. these cores were made of one to six bars of iron, they made these bars by smelting iron ore in a bloomery furnace, forging down the bloom to homogenise it into a bar and finally cut and folded repeatedly to spread out the impurities. this creates a very tight woodgrain pattern in the steel that's almost invisible. in finer examples more of these bars were welded together, twisted and cut, creating the more visible patterns of pattern welding. the most complicated of these was comprised of 6 bars, and was found broken in half awaiting repair in what used to be the forge at Bambrough castle, at the edge of the world. it remains the absolute pinnacle of the swordmakers art, and a contender for the most technically sophisticated sword ever made. anyone who wants to know more should read "the perfect sword" by Paul Gething and Edoardo Albert

they would be armoured with a mail shirt if they were very wealthy and perhaps a helmet if they were even wealthier.

more importantly, any of these items would be made to a much higher quality than older roman weapons and armour, as these were often made as cheaply as possible to arm the vast amounts of troops the romans habitually fielded, and also of poor quality materials. in contrast a swordmaker in heroic age britain might only make five-six swords a year, and each would be expected to be a masterwork, or at the very least completely dependable, then the hilt furniture would often be made by a jeweller or similar craftsman, and the entire thing would only become one unit after all the components had been finished

thank you all for reading, bear in mind this is all speculation, and as ever my beloved readers,

may your edges stay sharp and your points true!

ps. sword review coming soon, i can guarantee none of you will guess what it is, but you are welcome to guess!

[avalonblue12]

On the topic of cheating and botting (Part 2)

First, let's get this out of the way:

The very first red flag right out the wazoo is the fact that there were nearly 75 votes before the fourth hour rang in. In any prior unbotted-poll these numbers would be utterly unprecedented in any situation all the Teams weren't simulatneously fighting at the same time. It's technically possible, if one or both teams somehow broke containment but there's no real reason to believe such a thing could have occurred.

Avenger was already being heavily promoted by one of his biggest fans, and his story chapter, OC2, was months ago. If he'd had a surge it'd have been at the start. Gunner is in a similar vein and doesn't even have as many big name fans currently participating that we know of.

Next, let's look at how the polls performed over time:

Now, do you see anything wrong with these? Let me tell you: Despite being a poll with over 170+ people and one of the largest starting influx of voters we've seen, the poll has somehow managed to maintain almost the EXACT same 58/41-42 split ratio for almost its entire lifespan. Exactly how Alter Ego was kept at 40/60 in her fight with Avenger in the nullified poll.

I don't think I need to elaborate on how insanely improbable that is. This isn't just one team making an attemp to close the gap that the other shuts down, this is Gunner being pushed down to almost the EXACT SAME PERCENTAGE EACH time a new onset of votes come.

For this to happen, Avenger would have to both get the lead AND get the same or similar amount of votes as Gunner at nearly the exact same time.

And for the record, Gunner DOES get a foot in at some occasions:

(Cut this one a bit low but it was like 5hrs 11minutes in)

Just as two example I was able to snag. As you can see by comparing to some of the polls above, at best Team Gunner would be able to bridge the gap by 1-2% before being shot back down again.

I want to note the polls only ever siginificantly moved when Gunner made progress that he'd lose about five minutes later

(Not to say Avenger didn't have legit votes either, it was rarer, but there was at least one instance where Gunner dropped to 40.5 only to be raised to 41ish soon after)

But what better example than right now?

THIS is the poll when I started writing:

I want to note, right before I snipped the pic, Gunner was actually at 42.7-43%ish for the last hour or so

This is the poll right now:

Quad Erat Demonstrandum

In summation:

The polls were intentionally being forced into 58.X/41.X split. They would move in response to Gunner gaining ground in order to undo any progress his team made- this would usually happen MINUTES within an attempt to close the gap each time.

@lapithae @dgrailwar

[sqinsights]

Navigating the Jungle of Cancer Biomarkers: A Human's Guide

Hey there, fellow humans! Today, let's dive into the fascinating world of cancer biomarkers, but fear not, we'll keep the scientific jargon to a minimum and sprinkle in some timid humor and sarcasm along the way. Get ready for a rollercoaster ride through the highs and lows of the Global Cancer Biomarkers Market.

The Numbers Game: So, someone decided to crunch the numbers and published a report that looks like a math enthusiast's dream. Brace yourselves; we're talking about a whopping USD 11.65 Billion in 2021, with dreams of reaching USD 36.74 Billion by 2030. That's some serious growth—almost like the market has been hitting the gym and drinking protein shakes.

Market Segments: Because One Size Doesn't Fit All Now, let's talk segments. Imagine the market as a variety show, and each segment is a different act trying to steal the spotlight. We've got profiling technology showing off with Omic and Imaging technologies, biomolecules like Genetic Biomarkers and Protein Biomarkers doing their dance, and different cancer types—Breast Cancer, Lung Cancer, and friends—strutting their stuff. It's like a talent show, but for science.

Regional Drama: North America, feeling like the popular kid in high school, asserts dominance with a substantial 44.00% revenue share. Meanwhile, the Asia Pacific region is the underdog, ready to rise with a promising CAGR. It's like a global game of Risk, where regions are competing for supremacy in the biomarker battlefield.

Biomolecules Take the Stage: Genetic biomarkers are the rockstars of the show, claiming the spotlight with over 85% of malignancy detections worldwide. Epigenetics is the new kid on the block, bringing a fresh perspective to cancer diagnostics. It's like a battle of the bands, where each biomolecule wants its moment in the spotlight.

Cancer Types: The Drama Unfolds Breast cancer takes center stage, stealing the spotlight as the largest segment. Lung and prostate cancer join the party, collectively commanding over 40% of the revenue share. It's like a soap opera, with twists and turns keeping us on the edge of our seats. For More Information:

https://www.skyquestt.com/sample-request/cancer-biomarkers-market?utm_source=LinkedIn&utm_medium=Aditya&utm_campaign=Aditya

Market Dynamics: Driving Forces and Roadblocks Enter the heroes and villains of the biomarker world. Potential pipeline candidates are gearing up for action, ready to revolutionize cancer care. But wait, the lack of reimbursement policies is the villain in this story, hindering the widespread adoption of these crucial diagnostic tools. It's like a blockbuster movie, with plot twists and unexpected turns.

Competitive Landscape: Who's Who in the Biomarker Universe The biomarker marketplace is a dynamic playground, with well-established brands, emerging players, and niche producers all vying for attention. Innovation is the key, and everyone is trying to set the trends in the industry. It's like a game of chess, with companies making strategic moves to stay ahead.

Recent Developments: Plot Twists and Sequels Servier and QIAGEN are teaming up to pioneer a groundbreaking diagnostic test, while Roche and Janssen are expanding their collaboration for personalized healthcare solutions. It's like a never-ending saga, with each chapter bringing new revelations.

Key Market Trends: The Future Awaits The future of the cancer biomarkers market looks promising, with a rising awareness of the importance of early detection. It's like a coming-of-age story, where society learns from its past and strives for a brighter, cancer-free future.

Conclusion: And there you have it, a whirlwind tour through the Global Cancer Biomarkers Market. From numbers that make our heads spin to biomolecules stealing the spotlight, it's a complex but fascinating world. So, buckle up, fellow humans, because the biomarker adventure has just begun!

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