#and because of blake - even if he's not there anymore - he's stronger

[ruins-of-tragedy]

Concluded season five of RWBY. The band is back together! The world tour is on track once more!!!

- Adam. You were right. Someone needed to die that day. But it shouldn't have been Sienna. It was supposed to be you.

- The PR battle between Adam and the Belladonnas. WoWie... I want to tear that Taurus guy apart from limb to limb.

- So Ozpin is not just Ozpin but many, many, many people who merged their souls with a cursed person? Okie. This is a thing.

- Cursed because he couldn't stop Salem initially. What kind-of fucked Gods are these?!

- I want... No. I NEED Weiss, Blake and Yang to receive special training from cute small little Oscar boy Ozpin. Pwease.

- Love the idea of a semblance and what that can mean in our verse. Especially since we can unlock it too... In the words of one wise Nora Valkyrie, it's "...like your very own superpower! Everybody's got one. It's just a matter of finding it and mastering it."

- Raven may not be a great mother, but she seems like a badass. I can respect that. However, fucking nope. Yang deserves better. Am glad she at least had Summer for a while.

- It's the fact that Weiss has to stand up on her tippy-toes in order to hug Yang properly. 😆😭🥹

- Ruby is innocence. Weiss is defiance. Yang is strength. 🫶🏻

- Blake must miss them so much.

- Adam is spite. And his way of thinking is dangerously contagious. Gods... I LOVE this show.

- Who needs real tea when Raven's over here spilling the whole container worth of gossip?

- To the guy carving food like ramen out of wood pieces... Teach me your ways!!! Also, do better for Faunus. They should be allowed in the bar too.

- Yang and Weiss and Ruby hug!!!!

- Vomit Boy. Nickname throwbacks!!! AGHHHHH!!! Ice Queen didn't miss them at all. ✨

- That conversation between RWY and then Weiss and Yang... Gods. I really appreciated the variations in loneliness Weiss talks about.

- Unrelated note, but Jacques Schnee should come to our world. I will welcome him happily. Please. And thank you.

- Ruby was right. "Nice Weiss strikes again."

- Also, love how Yang does not want to care. At all. But she does. So much.

- Abandonment issues are the worst.

- Ilia liked Blake? Awwww! I didn't know she was cool like that! The betrayal though. Fuckity fuck.

- WoWie. Ilia was able to form thoughts and speak them out coherently still, while having a lady on top. Straddling her, as she was being pinned down. Gods. I couldn't have done it if I was her age. Heck, can't do so even now... Debating morals and engaging in a big emotional confrontation this way... She is stronger than I am.

- Ilia could have died the same death her parents probably did. Fuck. Thank Gods for people like Ghira.

- The audacity of this biatch. The Belladonnas ruined everything?!??? Corsair. Catch these hands!!!

- Welcome to the good side Ilia. Here we have friends, support and Blake!

- So Weiss gets stabbed. I know she is not going to die. But FUCKKKKKKK. They are really coming after her this season...

- My emotions are being played with.

- Jaune's semblance heals?! Awwwwww! So fitting!!!

- Hazel is so overcome by his own rage, he can't see it was his sister's choice. And instead of respecting that, he is out here trying to bring down other children. I don't think she will be impressed.

- Raven is the spring maiden. Did NOT see that coming.

- I need a show revolving around Team STRQ.

- Jaune's aura amplifies others. He won't run out. Pyrrha believed he has a lot of it. 🌟😭

- Blake coming in with back-up and reinforcements had me screaming with joy!!! Really needed that.

- Cinder's now Grimm too?!

- That look between Blake and Yang. Xiao Long cannot anymore. She has fallen HARD. I think she knows it too. At least somewhat. Gods. I love them.

- Yang not letting her emotions get the best of her when it easily could have before... Especially when it's Mercury coming for her. Top tier character glow up!!! Even more so because it didn't happen all at once. There were times she failed to do it too. I like how they kept it realistic.

- Cinder Fall falls. Vernal is the MVP. And dead.

- Every time RWBY has a half an hour episode now, I get scared. And that's the case still with the finale of this season.

- Sun Wukong is an honorary Belladonna for me.

- Weiss remembers Blake being more quiet. 😂

- Yang vs Raven. Love this battle of wills.

- So much for being "Lionheart." Giving Leos a bad name. At least he dead now.

- Fuck. Could never have imagined Raven killing the initial Spring Maiden. But I guess it makes sense.

- Yang Xiao Long is my favourite character. Period.

- Team RWBY is back together. They are hugging. AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

- Bumbleby is out of the trenches, but heading into an emotional one perhaps?

- Next stop: Atlas. I feel Qrow's long suffering sigh. 😤. Ironwood was turning into a bit of a dictator, the last time we saw him. Wonder what's going on with him now.

- Raven wants to talk to Tai... Not your typical parents teachers meeting. 😆

- This is out of order, but I laughed so hard when Raven clocks the bad folks for being ego-maniacs. Then calls out Cinder's last name and how it's too appropriate. Doctor Watts confirming it was the cherry on top!

- This season was something. In the best possible way. Holy hell... Anywho, onto the next one!!!

(No spoilers! Or I use you for Jacques and Adam target practice. Adiós!)

[lorata]

Blake, Rowan & Alec - Gundam 0079 AU

screw it, blake/rowan/alec in the Universal Century

this is an incredibly niche au but this bit is self-contained i think

******

“You know why they call us Ghosts?”

He’s fifteen and they killed his father in front of him with the Supreme Commander watching. He’s fifteen and he had one night to say goodbye to the love of his life. He’s fifteen and they shipped him off to the ass end of space to die.

His commanding officer, such as it is out here, is a guy named Manaheim who’s been out here four years, a record. Blake is the youngest soldier to ever be exiled to the Jupiter Fleet. He’s not even a soldier. He’s cannon fodder.

He doesn’t know why they call them Ghosts.

Manaheim spits onto the floor. The saliva sits there, wet and wobbling, on the concrete. “Because we can’t go home. Not now, not ever.”

Blake watches men twice his age die in battles that have no meaning while he screams helplessly into the comms. His mobile suit is old and there are no mechanics, no engineers, so he learns to fix it himself.

Rowan writes him, messages arriving on the tiny console in his suit, but when he tries to reply his brain turns white with panic. I love you, Rowan says. I miss you. Stay safe.

Every day he thinks, this is the day I’m going to die.

******

He feels the change in Rowan’s brain. Feels it like a worm in an apple, burrowing, gnawing, tries to ignore it because distractions are a thing that kill. Tells himself it isn’t true, tells himself he only has to make it to furlough and Rowan will explain everything and he’ll be wrong, and then they’ll laugh about how wrong he was, and then they’ll kiss and sleep together and for five glorious days none of this will be real.

******

He lands and Rowan meets him at the hangar and he knows. He feels the other presence there in his mind, feels the two of them, together, those long nights and the talks and Rowan’s guilt-want-guilt-need-guilt and Rowan looks at him broken and terrified and churning with shame and says “Wait, wait, let me explain —”

He turns around and boards the shuttle right back without a word.

******

They take one look at him when he returns and they all know. It’s not sympathy — they’re too burned out for that, these husks of men — but it is knowing. Understanding. Recognition. They’ve been here before.

“I told you.” Manaheim claps him on the shoulder, not unfriendly. “Ghosts can’t go home again, not really.”

Blake drags an arm across his face. “So what do I do.”

“The only thing you can do.” Manaheim’s craggy face is hard. “Stay alive.”

******

He fights. He kills. He fights. He kills some more. He refuses to think about Rowan. He kills. He ignores the yawning ache in his mind like a black hole, pulling at the edges of him.

He kills.

He kills.

He kills.

He doesn’t die.

******

Come home, says the message. He can feel it, little drips of desperation tugging at the place in his brain he doesn’t go anymore. Bitter like quinine on his tongue. Please. I love you. I’m sorry. I’ll tell you everything. I love you. Please.

He stares at the letters blinking on his screen. Hisses a sigh through clenched teeth, activates his subvocal processor and dictates a curt reply: Fine.

Rowan’s relief crackles in the back of his mind like an ice pack against a pounding headache but he can’t, he won’t. Not now.

******

The new guy is tall, handsome, soft hands, kind eyes. Future doctor, not a killer. Stronger too, his mind meets Blake’s in a handshake and Blake recoils before the guy can crush his fingers in some kind of shitty dominance ritual. Guy’s hurt, but hides it. Should have thought of that before he fucked someone else’s boyfriend while they were off dying for the cause, maybe.

“We didn’t,” Rowan blurts out. Blake’s eyes tighten but Rowan doesn’t apologize for eavesdropping. Okay, maybe it wasn’t eavesdropping, maybe Blake is shouting, maybe he wants them to hear. Maybe he wants them to hurt. They’ve been here cuddling and having long, hot showers and eating cake together or whatever it is civilians do while he’s been out there, failing to die. “Blake! We didn’t, I love you, I couldn’t, I just —”

“Just what,” he says. His voice sounds flat in his own ears, odd without the helmet echo. “You moved on to hold hands with this guy for two years and not fuck?”

Rowan’s eyes flash in his tear-swollen face and fuck Blake loves him, he doesn’t want to but here he is, but before that humiliating thought has time to cross the barrier Rowan’s tackled him to the ground. “Listen to me!” Rowan shouts, flipping him over, and years of muscle memory have Blake sliding to avoid a leg lock before his brain catches up. “I’m not letting you leave again. You don’t get to go away and be sad and tragic for a — whole — year — for no reason! You can be angry and hate me and whatever you want after we talk!”

Sparring is familiar in the worst way, and the ugly rage and bitterness that Blake carried with him starts slipping through his fingers even as he slams Rowan’s shoulders to the ground. “You left me!” he bursts out. He can’t hold back the thoughts and they all pour out, raw and gritty and humiliating like pockets full of bone and viscera tumbling out at a fancy dinner. “They sent me off to die and I felt you fall in love with him in my brain and you won’t even let me go.”

Rowan stares up at him, eyes wide and brown and wet at the lashes. “I did.” His voice comes out hoarse. “I never wanted to fall for him but I did, I did, and I never stopped loving you. I love him and I love you and loving him makes me love you more and loving him means I’m here and alive to love you and I need — I need you to understand, please. Please, let me show you.”

He knows what Rowan’s asking. Knows what will happen if he gives in. He’s hanging on by a thread anyway, the curve of Rowan’s collarbone beneath his thumb, Rowan’s ankles crossed behind his thighs, holding him in place. Rowan reaches up to press the curve of his palm against Blake’s cheek.

He’s tired of fighting. He’s so tired.

Blake lowers his head with a shudder and rests their foreheads together. Rowan’s mind sweeps over his like a wave of cool water and he sinks.

******

They’re crying, he recalls later. It’s the first physical sensation that makes it through the rollercoaster that is the shared experience of their past two years, Rowan’s heartbreak and loneliness and terror and guilt, Blake’s fear and bitterness and anger and resignation. By the time Blake swims to the surface they’re practically one person, clinging and intertwined, absolutely smeared with snot and achey with dehydration.

He kisses Rowan. It’s wet and salty and slimy with tears and mucus and he does not care. Rowan makes a high, desperate noise and kisses back, fingers buried in Blake’s hair, and they kiss and press into each other, hips and minds sliding together —

Blake’s entire consciousness shorts out and he’s pretty sure time stops existing. When he comes back Rowan looks equally shocked, letting go of Blake’s hair to touch his bitten lip. “What the hell was that,” Blake says mildly. “I know it’s been a while, but Deikun on the rocks!”

“I missed you,” Rowan says, like that explains dual orgasms from kissing, but sure, why not. Blake can’t bring himself to care, not anymore. He’s tired, he’s giddy, his head absolutely fucking kills.

“Here,” says Rowan’s weird brain boyfriend, and oh right, Blake forgot he was here. But he’s back, with glasses of water and hydra-tabs and wet washcloths and a basin for their faces. Blake takes the glass and drinks, watching as Rowan turns his face up with a hopeful pout so familiar it makes his gut clench. New dude sighs, dips the washcloth in the basin and cleans Rowan’s face, turning him this way and that with the gentle press of fingertips to his cheek.

“Never,” Blake says skeptically. New guy shoots him a look that says what the fuck do you think my dude and Blake has a little more respect for him, not that he’ll admit it. “Okay, but like, never, or like, never.”

New guy folds up the washcloth with precise, snappy movements and hands Rowan his water. “Rowan loves you very much,” he says, not quite sharp, but clearly with immense effort. His brain is a minefield of closed doors and windows that make Blake, ever the asshole, want to go snooping. “We didn’t mean this to happen —” punctuated by a waving motion between his and Rowan’s heads — “but anything else, that’s not an accident. We weren’t going to disrespect you.”

Blake groans and flops backward, clapping both hands to his face. “Rowan,” he says, “kiss your goddamn boyfriend. Don’t make this any more annoying than it already is.”

Dude kisses Rowan like he’s afraid to break him, which lasts all of two seconds until Rowan climbs into his lap and nearly knocks them both over. Blake rolls his eyes and pushes himself to his feet, ready to head out until a hand closes around his ankle. Or — it doesn’t, Rowan and boyfriend are still eating each other’s faces off, but Rowan’s brain-fingers hold him still. Don’t go.

Sure, but it’s not just the two of them, is it. Blake folds his arms and pokes at Mr. Wall of Mirrors. And you? he says. He doesn’t mean to come off like a dick but he can’t help it.

Boyfriend does not stop trying to take Rowan’s shirt off without pulling away, which is such a fourteen-year-old move that it briefly distracts Blake from how insane their situation is, but he responds anyway. We can’t make this work if we don’t share.

Ugh. Blake drops down behind Rowan, slides his arms around his waist and bites that spot at the back of his shoulder that used to make him go feral. Sure enough, Rowan yelps and flings one arm backward, flailing around until he grips Black’s neck. The movement sends Rowan rocking into new guy’s hips, and he lets out a startled noise that makes Blake grin in spite of himself.

Alec, the guy says, managing to be testy even with the edges of his composure fraying. It’s Alec.

Blake hums and reaches around for the fastening of Rowan’s jeans.

******

“You look different,” says Manaheim when Blake returns from furlough. “Got some this time?”

Blake flips him the ring gesture. “He waited for me.”

“This time.” Manaheim tosses him his helmet. “Don’t count on it, that’s all I’m saying. Next kill is all that matters.”

He’s not going to argue. Already the memory of Rowan’s mouth on his feels faint, dreamlike, but he presses fingertips to the teethmarks on his skin each night until they fade.

******

He’s in his bunk when he feels it, a tentative brush like spider-silk against his mind. Blake sits bolt upright, slams his skull against the railing so hard he sees stars and has to lie back down, head ringing. He’s so rattled he forgets about the connection until he’s drifting back to sleep.

This time he manages to hold it — but barely, he has to focus on that half-state between sleep and awareness, like the details of a dream.

Turns out Rowan is strong enough to reach him, so long as Alec is there to boost him. Blake spends five seconds trying to imagine the details (the two of them spooning in bed, or Rowan sitting up propped against Alec’s back) before tossing the image away. It doesn’t matter. He can talk to Rowan — really talk, more than feeling vague one-way emotions — for the first time since shipping out.

And also, Alec is there, but small price to pay. He’ll deal with a second presence in the back of his mind if it means an end to the constant, crushing loneliness.

******

Alec’s not the worst, at least.

******

Manaheim dies in a stupid fight against some stupid raiders with a stolen cannon. Blake punches through their ship and drags Manaheim’s floating body back, face frozen and bulging from a shattered helmet plate.

“That was stupid,” Shiara scolds him. “We’re already out here on a suicide mission, don’t go taking stupid risks.”

“I don’t care,” Blake snaps. “We deserve better. Don’t you know what happens if you don’t give a ghost a proper send-off?”

They wrap Manaheim in his shitty, standard-issue blanket with the Ghosts’ sigil painted over his chest. They fly down to Jupiter, and Blake carries the body out and releases it to the planet’s gravity. They watch the black speck through the polarized filter until it vanishes into the gas giant’s swirling surface.

“We send each other home,” Blake says over the comms. He’s eighteen and no one argues. “Got it? Ghosts don’t leave our own out here.”

******

Five years, two visits. Rowan’s up early in the shower and Blake should join him but he’s so tired and a real bed feels so fucking good he doesn’t want to leave.

A little weird since Alec’s here, watching him. “Don’t worry,” Blake mumbles, face mashed into the pillow. “I’ll be gone in a few days and you can have him all to yourself.”

He feels the spike of irritation — frustration? something — as Alec props himself up on an elbow. “What? Quit doing that. He’s miserable without you. He wants you here. I want you here. Nobody is happy when you’re gone.”

Whenever Blake’s around Rowan his mind fills with glowy thoughts about how amazing Alec is, how strong and sweet and thoughtful and brave and sensitive. It’s very annoying. “Okay, okay,” he says, to forestall a speech. “I’m sorry I’m here even when I’m not.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Alec sighs. “You are, though. He really is crazy about you. I don’t think it’s possible for you to know how much. He thinks about you all the time. I wish you could see yourself the way he sees you.”

It’s too much to handle with Alec this close, and so Blake closes his eyes. “How does he see me,” he asks, and immediately wishes he didn’t because what a humiliating question.

Alec doesn’t laugh. A thumb brushes Blake’s cheekbone, his eyebrow, his forehead. “Brave,” he says. “So unbelievably brave. Strong, you’ve survived so many things that terrify him and you keep going when other people wouldn’t. And he thinks you’re smart, and it makes him sad you don’t think so just because you only count school grades, but you keep your suit running all on your own, how many people can do that? He loves your brain and everything about your mind makes him feel like home. Also you’re really, really cute and it’s fun to surprise you in bed.”

Blake looks at him now. Up close his lashes are long — has he noticed Alec’s lashes? — his eyes dark. Alec’s hand has moved to his jaw. “Was that last one him, or you?”

Alec swallows. Blake watches his throat bob and drags his gaze back up. “What’s your best guess?”

It did get a little fuzzy last night, whose hands went where, whose mind tangled with his and pushed the buttons that threw him over the edge. Blake slides his knee between Alec’s legs and rolls them over, his back to the mattress. “Try me.”

******

He fights, he kills, he doesn’t die. He rebuilds his suit from the ground up more than once. He paints tallies on the legs of his suit — not for kills, but for missions returned alive. All his commanding officers are dead. He starts making pins for the squad, not ranks but benchmarks for survival: one month, two months, six, twelve, eighteen. They wear their makeshift badges on their uniforms, blazon years on the back of their suits.

Eight years.

Ten years. He’s twenty-five, and the new guy is almost twice his age and isn’t going to listen to some wet-nosed brat. Blake doesn’t bother; he stands there, silent, and the others do it for him. “Watch it!” shouts Coloratura. “That’s the boss! He’s been here longer than any of us. Listen to him or you won’t last a day out there!”

Blake leans in close. The man is sweating, for all his bravado, one eye swollen shut — whatever he did to get here, they worked him over good before tossing him on the transport shuttle. “Do you know why they call us Ghosts?” he asks.

“Because they can’t get rid of us.”

[bruce--yamada]

I absolutely love the character development that Finney goes through. At the beginning of the movie, he's scared and nervous. Stuttering over his words when Donna asks if needs a partner. Abiding to what his bullies want.

(This is a rant)

I think once he meets Vance/Doesn't escape is his breaking point. He doesn't care if he dies anymore, he doesn't care what the ghost boys have to say anymore. He generally doesn't give a fuck.

"What? Do you even know who you are?"

He literally doesn't care anymore, he was probably fed up with Griffin.

"Is it code?"

"If you say so."

"Griffin!"

He was trying so hard not to snap on the kid, but after getting caught again, he doesn't care. He starts glaring at the door holding his rocket. Or in the final act, he glares holding the phone. He is FULL. Of hatred, he's finally realising that he can't keep taking people's shit.

He also starts cussing more, he didn't cuss in the beginning of the movie, just only leaving silent glares or defeated looks.

His only saving grace is when Vance tells him and the freezer, it's enough for him to get back up. Once he realises it did Jack shit, he crumbles again. He generally doesn't care if he dies now. It's already in his head that he'll be another victim to this guy.

Then Robin calls and it changes everything. He immediately tries to act tougher.

"Hey Finn, what's happenin'?

"Robin?"

"Hey buddy... Don't cry."

"I'm not."

Yes you were Finney, but he didn't want to look weak in front of his best friend.

"We'll be together again soon."

He's already admitted defeat. He is ready to join Robin on the other side.

It's the slight push that Robin gives him for Finney to finally fucking realize that he's strong enough to kill this grown man.

"That's why we got along, you were always too afraid to throw a punch but you knew how to take one."

And the entire movie he's taking the Grabbers shit.

Kidnaps him

Watches him while sleeping

Threatens him

Pulls a switch blade on him

Blames him for the death of his brother

And etc.

Along with other things.

"Finn's arm is mitt!"

He gives a look like he doesn't believe Bruce all the times he said that, but in the end Bruce says that and it finally fucking clicks. He does have a strong arm, and he snaps the grabbers neck.

Sure, most of the Ghost boys just wanted Finney to kill the Grabber, not caring if he dies along the way, but it's Bruce and Robin that helps him realize he is better than trash on the floor.

It's also the sweetness of him walking through the halls, straight faced just to see the bullies and smile. Because they're scared of him, he killed the grabber. That helps everyone realize that he is so much stronger than just Finney Blake. Brother of Gwen Blake, best friend of Robin Arellano. He actually became his own person in the end, not just someone with a scary guard dog.

He becomes Finn, not Finney. He grew up, using the name that Bruce and Robin called him, I would like to think he did that as a sign of growing up, but also a thanks to the two for pushing him past his limit.

[rwbyuser24]

What if… third faction in RWBY?

I'm back! Well, I say that so often it's not funny anymore. Whatever.

Ever since I saw Star Wars: The Clone Wars, I've wanted to do this. I found the Shadow Collective interesting, and how a group of Outlaws managed to form a third power in the conflict between the Republic and the Separatists.

So, why not apply it to RWBY?

The Red Fang.

After the defeat at Haven, Adam lost almost all of the White Fang's support. Killing some members only made things worse. However, before Adam went to try to get revenge on Blake, five people he knew arrived in the throne room.

Banesaw (The Lieutenant), Trifa (The Spider Faunus), Yuma (The Bat Faunus), Deery (The one who asked Roman "What's a human doing here?!"), Perry (The one who spoke to Roman in Mountain Glenn).

They, despite everything, were Adam's fanatics. They were fanatics. They were willing to support him even though Adam abandoned his comrades in Haven and forced them to shoot their families.

If you're wondering, how is it possible that there are those who follow Adam? It's simple, they are just a minority. A small group of less than 1%, that most fanatical portion.

They believed that any sacrifice was necessary to achieve the liberation of the Faunus and revenge on humanity. Furthermore, they considered Adam justified in escaping because he was necessary for the White Fang to survive.

They believed in Adam's Messiahship. (Not a religious one, of course).

Adam then reflected. He thought that if he attacked Blake now, her friends would kill him. So he needed something stronger to kill Blake and everything she loved. Besides, he saw this as an opportunity to regain his power. He still had the Dust the White Fang had stolen, as well as the money and Bullheads they had acquired over the years.

He said that from now on, they would no longer be the White Fang; they would now be the Red Fang.

2.-Spider

After the Battle of Haven and Leonardo's death, Mistral was in chaos, especially the capital. It was then that multiple Grimm and bandits arrived to raid the slums. This infuriated Miss Malachite, because if you stole from the citizens, you stole from her. And the Grimm made economic development difficult.

However, after a couple of weeks, things calmed down a bit. What had happened?

It was then that six hooded figures with backpacks arrived at Miss Malachite's lair. There were not only members of Spider, but also members of the Xiong family (Junior's group), but they were there in a peaceful mood. Miss Malachite was angry. It was then that the six figures removed their hoods, revealing it was the Red Fang led by Adam.

The Red Fang then presented what they had in their backpacks. The heads of the bandit leaders who had been raiding Mistral.

Miss Malachite was surprised. But what shocked her most was when Adam knelt before her and said:

"Lady Malachite, I humbly kneel before you. Please accept these offerings from us. We only wish to peacefully join your organization."

Concerned, Miss Malachite decided not to hand Adam over to the authorities, at least not for the time being.

And, just at that moment, the leaders of other criminal organizations appeared: Black Sheep, The Hearth, and The Wave. All of them had been summoned by Adam, receiving payment from the White Fang. Lemon and Abigail Pyre survived in this AU.

3.-Xiong Family

Days later, Adam was handed over by Spider and taken to a maximum-security prison while he awaited trial. (Preventive prison)

What happened? It was all part of the plan.

After the fall of Beacon, Junior, the Xiong Family and the Malachite twins fled to Mistral, escaping the chaos in Vale. However, Junior and the Malachite twins were arrested for their crimes and taken to the maximum-security prison.

After Malachite collected the bounty, she and the other criminal leaders began planning how to free Adam, Junior, the Malachite twins, and several imprisoned members of The Hearth, Black Sheep, and The Wave.

Finally, the day arrived. From within, Adam provoked an internal uprising with the support of the prisoners, who quickly began a mutiny against the guards. This, while the Bullheads of the various criminal organizations appeared to free the criminals.

Everything had gone just as planned. Adam would turn himself in so Miss Malachite could collect the bounty. Adam would infiltrate the prison to recruit its members for the plan. And after 10 days, Spider, the Xiong Family, Black Sheep, The Hearth, and The Wave would appear to rescue them all.

Adam recruited the faunus who had been freed into the Red Fang. And the other criminals returned to their respective organizations.

Adam reunited with the Banesaw. Junior rejoined his boys.

Miss Malachite greeted her daughters.

They triumphantly arrived at Spider's lair.

And then, two figures appeared that few expected:

"Well, well, well. Who do we have here? The cowman himself."

4.-Roman and Neo

In this AU, Roman survived the fall of Beacon, surviving being devoured by the Grimm. The Grimm that ate him survived and continued flying until Roman managed to free himself by killing him from within.

Roman, however, lost his legs and had to use robotic ones.

Adam didn't expect to encounter Cinder's lackeys.

However, he quickly realized that they were no longer under her command.

Miss Malachite quickly introduced everyone.

This was something new and affected Adam's plans, but not necessarily in a bad way.

In the middle of the welcoming party (for the freed criminals), Adam spoke a few words:

"We are gathered here to celebrate our triumph. We have managed to outwit the kingdom's forces and reclaim our freedom and that of our allies. However, that is not enough. There is a war approaching. Those who abandoned me, and those who defeated me, will soon face each other in conflict, and our way of life could be affected, whichever side wins. That is why I have a plan that can give us the advantage…"

Everyone listened attentively to the Taurus's plan. And when he finished, Roman also had a few words.

"I love it. I love it. However, I believe that for you to succeed… you will need this…" Roman said, holding up a necklace with a blue gem. "We are willing to unite… But we want a piece of the pie."

"And us… too." Sil, leader of Team SMMK, said as his team entered the building.

5.-Mistral Police Force

The plan began. A small fleet of Red Fang Bullheads stormed Haven Academy, while Team SMMK fought police forces in the streets to distract them. All while Roman supported Adam with an army of Grimm controlled by him.

Once inside Haven, Red Fang took control of the CCT Tower. They downloaded a Scroll into the tower.

Soon, information was released around the kingdom. Two things:

The first was data on all of Mistral's corrupt authorities. Police officers, politicians, and even businessmen.

And the second was a message from Adam calling on the faunus to take up arms and rebel against the decadent system of government.

The citizens expect and know that criminal organizations are evil, but for the kingdom's authorities to be corrupt… that is unacceptable.

It was then that many citizens took to the streets to protest.

For the next few days, the streets were filled with protesters who exchanged blows with the police.

The citizens demanded that the council resign and new elections be held. And then… it happened.

6.- Mistral Council

The reason the criminal organizations knew about the authorities' corruption was because the authorities worked with them. That's why, afterward, the corrupt police officers and politicians received messages from the criminal organizations.

Shortly after, the Mistral politicians resigned simultaneously, leaving the kingdom headless. After that, the corrupt police officers stormed the prisons and freed the prisoners.

The politicians were promised fortune if they resigned. And the corrupt police officers were promised that they would be part of a new Mistral.

However, in the end, when the politicians went to collect their fortunes, they were murdered by Adam.

Amidst the chaos, the corrupt police officers left their uniforms behind and started wearing new ones, those of criminal organizations. Spider's purple ones, for example.

And so, the Red Fang, Spider, Xiong Family, The Hearth, The Wave, and Black Sheep staged a coup d'état, proclaiming a council.

Each of the criminal leaders took positions on the new council, except for Adam. He didn't want to push his luck and preferred to wait.

Roman was assigned as governor of Wind Path, his hometown.

The Red Fang was filled with recruits. Faunus were released from prison.

The corrupt businessmen were executed by the Red Fang, and their companies were taken over by criminal organizations.

The new council of criminals approved an end to faunus segregation and discrimination. In addition, it reopened Haven Academy, with the teachers now corrupt Huntsmen. (For example, Team SMMK). In addition to other populist measures such as raising taxes on the rich and giving charity.

And they began recruiting soldiers for the new army that would keep Mistral powerful and safe from the Grimm. (Also, they could expand and take over more territory later.)

Quickly, some people decided not to oppose the council of criminals.

7.-The White fang

And the remnants of the White Fang began to consider returning to Adam's rule now that he was powerful.

The measure that surprised everyone the most was the expropriation of the SDC (Mistral's branch). Adam influenced the council to become the new director of the state-owned company. And, in compensation for his merits, his request was granted. Under his command, the faunus were no longer enslaved; instead, they took over guard and administrative positions. The miners now were the old SDC guards and political prisoners of the regime. (In addition to the police officers who opposed the criminal regime.) Obviously, the new miners were enslaved.

Faced with these measures, Coroline Cordovine decided to take control of Argus. This was to prevent the city from falling under the control of criminal organizations. She was an authoritarian leader over the city, imposing curfews and prohibiting assembly.

8.-Branwen Tribe

Preparing for war, the council of criminals approached Raven, obtaining her whereabouts through Spider's spies.

And they promised her complete control over the villages outside the kingdoms in exchange for her making a treaty of alliance with them.

They didn't ask her to serve them, but if one of them was attacked, the other would come to its defense.

Spider revealed the corruption in the Anima village governments, and when the Grimm approached due to the negative emotions of the villagers… Raven appeared. She, using her maiden powers and her portals, was able to save most of the villages. (With the help of her tribe, obviously.) Each of her members was in the villages so she could create portals to each one. She then proclaimed herself queen of the Anima villages, and everyone was forced to obey their savior.

9.-Atlas military in Argus

Due to Cordovin's decision to take control of Argus, the criminal leaders gave speeches against Cordovin.

They pointed out that Atlas had gone too far. First with the embargo and then the border closure.

They encouraged citizens to join the newly created armed forces.

Everyone was preparing for war. But just when things were about to get out of hand, a message arrived to everyone: A message, from Ruby Rose.

There was panic, and the army had to fight the Grimm. And on Argus, a Leviathan appeared and weakened the Colossus. Amity Tower remained in the sky, and global communications were maintained. (Unlike canon.)

Taking advantage of the chaos, the council of criminals prepared their attack on Argus. And everything was set when the video of Ironwood threatening Mantle was leaked. Again, there was panic, and a second Leviathan appeared, which destroyed the weakened Colossus.

In that scenario, the council of criminals' forces only had to arrive and protect the civilians of Argus from the Grimm. Roman appeared, controlling the Grimm to attack other Grimm and thus protect civilians.

The remaining Grimm attacked the Argus forces, decimating them.

It was then, once Argus was conquered. The council of criminals and Raven prepared for battle with Salem.

10.-Explanation and Conclusions

Okay, there's a lot to cover. Adam seems incredibly intelligent here. But Blake herself said his power comes from controlling people. He's being manipulative toward those more powerful than him.

In this scenario, Roman survived. I already explained how.

Since Neo didn't accompany Cinder, she had to find a way to get to Atlas. She traveled with a Bullhead (piloted by her) to Solitas, and when she got close enough, she let it crash while she flew (with her maiden powers) to Mantle. She stayed informed about what was happening in Atlas by watching the news and by Amoncio Glass's spies, whom she paid with money she stole from her victims. During the Atlas arc, she still placed her crystal chess piece on Ironwood's table. She then went to claim the maiden power, but as in canon, Penny gained that power. Without Neo's help, she didn't try to go to where Penny was (yet), so Amity Tower remained intact. Just like in canon, she helped Watts escape. And she also participated in the battle in the portal dimension. Without Neo, she was unable to defeat everyone, but she was able to escape with the Staff of Creation and the Relic of Knowledge. Team RWBY and Jaune didn't fall into Ever After. Team RWBY kept their hands on the Relic of Knowledge this whole time.

Roman has the magical amulet capable of controlling Grimm from RWBY: Grimm Campaign.

Lemon and Abigail Pyre also survived in this AU.

I didn't know how to introduce Vermillion Raddock, so I didn't add him.

If it seems like the council of criminals care about the citizens, they don't; they're trying to gain favor of the civilians to prevent rebellions.

In this scenario, Raven hasn't redeemed herself. She allied herself with the criminals, believing that she and her tribe alone are incapable of stopping Salem. So she thinks her chances of survival increase slightly if she has a powerful army behind her.

As I mentioned, only the most fanatical follow Adam. His new recruits are criminals desperate for power and freedom who care nothing for honor.

[pinkhairandpokemon]

Apologies, I didn't really check what you have said in your past posts, but are you sure that is what Lord N wants? For separation between humans and pokemon?

It’s what Lord Ghetsis has been preparing him for his entire life. Of course it’s what he wants.

Lord N thinks that no matter how well-intentioned a trainer might think they are, every single one of them are hurting or suppressing their Pokémon in one form or another, whether they realize it or not. Since most people can’t understand Pokémon like he can, he doesn’t think true coexistence is possible without Pokémon giving up something for humans. Whether a trainer is blatantly and knowingly abusing them, or they’re doing something like reprimanding their Pokémon for performing a natural instinct it can’t control or didn’t know was wrong (like scratching or making noise or knocking something over), Pokémon are always doing something or are sacrificing something for our needs. All of that, and the fact that no amount of “good” trainers in the world can reverse what horrible things people- like Lysandre or Rose- managed to commit by using Pokémon they exploited as building blocks to their schemes.

I… used to believe him. I’m not sure if I do completely anymore, though. He has a few good points. But… then there’s trainers like Cole, who can’t understand his Pokémon but works with them so well in battle that it’s almost like he can. And the people I’ve been talking to on here… they all seem to love their Pokémon more than anything.

Even those kids Cole hangs out with- Cheren and Bianca. N and I were talking about them and he said he wasn’t impressed by them. Cheren is too obsessed with being stronger, working himself and his Pokémon to the bone to try and be perfect. Bianca is too finicky, too all over the place, and that’s going to affect her Pokémon as much as it does herself. But… in the few times I’ve seen them over the course of this journey, it seems like they’re changing. There’s been times where they’ve dropped everything to come help Cole fight back against Plasma any way they can. Because they all love Pokémon.

But… I don’t think Lord N sees this. Or maybe… deep down he does, but doesn’t want to admit it? I can’t figure out why. Lately he’s been more frustrated, and even more concentrated on locating Zekrom than before.

That’s where I’m torn… See, I wasn’t handpicked by Lord Ghetsis to join N on his journey and protect him. Honestly, I probably never even crossed his mind at all. It was Lord N himself who asked to bring me along. He didn’t have to. He knew I couldn’t provide anything the Shadow Triad couldn’t. But he knew I’d been missing life outside the castle for a long time, so he did anyways.

From the beginning of this journey I promised I’d do anything in my power to help Lord N achieve his goals… but what am I supposed to do now that I’m starting to doubt him? Turn my back on him? Try to convince him to abandon something he’s spent his whole life working towards? He cares about Pokémon more than anything. He cares about saving them more than anything. Even…

…even more than he cares about me.

-Blake

[opheliaaster]

“Fiery the angels fell, deep thunder rolled around their shores, burning with the fires of the orc”

Roy in Blade Runner, quote adapted from William Blake

I will burn. 

This is what they say, when they cast their stones, burying those beneath the heavy, dreaded weight of their sins. When you die, you will die, you will burn; repent your sins. That is what they say. Repent your sins before you die, or you will burn.

I am already burning. 

I am not dead, though it feels like I am. Perhaps if it happened, when it happened, it was not them. It was not theirs. It was mine. Blood may be thicker than water, but skin is not stronger than steel. Neither are souls, or hearts it seems. 

I had no heart, just a blade only capable of cutting.

Now I have no mind either.

I don’t know if it happened, when it happened. The sun had cast its last glazy look about the sky and I was undressing, slipping on a pale purple robe in place of my school uniform, removing the wound of lipstick from my face. I must have touched my lips, once or twice, throughout the day, because the lipstick was smeared over my hands, like scars, probably when I was in the midst of listening to his rant.

A soft knock at the door, and in walks the executioner, here to deliver my sentence. 

He’s dead.

The Earth fell out, crumbling beneath the weight of my steel blade. No grave could hold me, it would be no match for the flames that licked my burning shame. 

If it happened, when it happened.

That doesn’t make sense, my robe isn’t purple.

Do I even own a robe?

You would think I would remember, watching it happen. You’d think that I would, watching the dawn turn to dusk, yellow and orange sent down to await my arrival, replaced by a cold, hollow loneliness of blue and black. Slowly, as the last sigh left his lips, you would think I would remember watching the reflection in his now lifeless eyes: those eyes that now face the inside of his grave.

Here’s the thing: I don’t. That’s the scary part. I can’t say I did it, because I don’t know if I did or not, and I don’t know which is worse: knowing or not knowing. Sometimes I think it would be easier to set my grave on fire now. 

In church they told us the story of Cain who murdered his brother Abel. Instead of condemning him to eternity in hell, God forgave him. However, he cursed his ancestors, dooming his great-grandson to repeat his mistakes. Did I do the same? Did I sign an invisible contract when I wrote my passage? When I- if I...

Crucified, he was. Auckland’s Lamb of God that we will break bread over, symbolizing his bleeding, hollowed out body. He was a son, a brother, now a martyr. His funeral is on Friday. I cannot step foot in there, let the light of the stained glass windows spotlight me, cast a wine splattered glow over my face, body, hands. Will it be wine? Or is it something else?

It's not just the funeral, I am on death row, now and forever. Walking past the jury, pew, after pew, after pew, will become my trial. I will stand once a week, at the altar of the judge, silently begging for forgiveness. I will hold his blood in my hands, shackled to its leaden casket. I will hold it to my lips, and drink away my sins. Nothing will work though. I will drown in my own personal hell. 

Knowing or not knowing, this is what I am left with. This is what controls me, what suffocates my soul. I am not dead, nor am I alive, not anymore. I died with him, and what is left in the hollowness between heaven and hell is a river of fear. I do not know what happened, I don’t know what is the truth, and neither do you. 

The smoke calls me into the fire.

Lord forgive me.

[thatmittengirl2009]

My thing is Weinstein got away with what he did for so long because of NDAs. Brave women broke theirs to speak out against him and look what happened.

People live in fear over a damn piece of paper. And that’s it. The only thing to fear is fear itself. That’s how they keep people in line and silence them. No job or person is worth it. Just talk about it. Do it publicly on a podcast or something. Sure you will lose work but do you really want to work in a place that tries to silence you with threats anyway? That’s how so many companies get away with paying their employees like shit, creating toxic environments and letting highly illegal crap to go on including abuse of all kinds. And if it’s publicly acknowledged, let the internet do its thing. The court of public opinion is stronger than any legal document. Look how Disney backed off so fast from the backlash of not letting that family sue because they had a stupid Disney+ subscription. Look how fast Blue Care Blue Cross backed off the decision not to cover anesthesia following the public backlash right after the CEO shooting incident. If there is enough public backlash, a company won’t do a damn thing for PR control and so their public perception doesn’t diminish further.

This is why protesting works. Have the public on your side and you always win. But the only way for that to happen is to be 10000% truthful and honest. Explain what happened, your role in it, the blackmail, the lies, the control, the manipulation, and how it’s affected your entire life. People love authenticity and they love someone who stands up for themselves and others against oligarchs.

It’s why I lost my job because I fought back. They tried to make me sign an NDA upon leaving and I said fuck you Jim!! My former manager did sign the NDA and he blabbed everything to me. They wanted to get rid of me for a while because I would not be silent about the toxic environment. Fight back. I don’t regret one moment I did. And now I tell everyone what they did freely cause fuck those Trump loving motherfuckers.

Look at Blake Lively. No one trusts her or her beady eye “husband” Ryan anymore. I say that because I truly believe he’s gay. I truly believe they hate each other but have too much dirt on one another. He treats her like shit and she’s just a social climbing bitch. I don’t think Justin is this total 100% good guy feminist but I don’t think he’s on their level at all. The public is on his side even if she thought she just won. Their public perception is forever ruined and no one wants to buy anything they’re selling. There are people boycotting marvel because of the Deadpool crap and Disney trying to hide shit for them. They’re ruined and the case hasn’t even seen court. But if Justin appeared in a movie, people would go see it, no matter if it’s good or not because that’s where we are in the world. Make the right people famous.

It’s called living life on your terms. If more people grew balls and said fuck it and just stood up, capitalism wouldn’t be what it is today. People are too complacent and scared instead of saying “no, this is wrong. I’m not going along with it anymore.”

Like omg just give me the stuff and I’ll leak it myself. Let’s go publicly to that rage room - I don’t have an NDA signed and I don’t have to by law.

[reddogf13]

Outlast 2: Deliverance CH 10

Also on A03

Status: Incomplete

Rated: M - Dead Dove Do Not Eat This takes place in the Outlast 2 universe after all.

Previous chap: CH: 9 Uhtceare

Next chap: CH: 11 Dysania

________________

~Ch: 10 Sleight~

Blake rushed with James to the barn. Record book in hand to chart down the damage done to their supplies. “How much was taken?” He wheezed along the way.

“Five rations worth.”

“That's it?” Compared to what he feared, the whole barn emptied, five wasn't bad. “That's not much.”

James gave a snappy tone in mistaking Blake's for lacking concern. “No, but it will be if it keeps happening.”

“Oh, no, I know it will be. But why not more? Only five rations worth? Why not make off with at least a quarter of the barn?”

“Couldn't carry that much? Afraid they'd get caught takin' too long? Who knows with heretics.”

“They're not heretics, they're just people trying to survive.”

“Thieves then. Who need to be dealt with. Stealing food is a hangin' offense.” Opening the doors for Blake to inspect inside. Pointing out the various things missing. “Jerky, pickled vegetables-”

“A few bags of fresh stuff.” Blake marked down. “You sure the kitchen staff didn't take it?”

“Positive, all's accounted for there. Nothin' extra in the kitchen.”

“Help me gather the rest of the lords. We're having an emergency meeting.” Things were going by so fast it took him a moment to gather himself in the middle of the meeting. Arguing had shot off on what to do about the heretics. Turning to topics Blake wasn't approving. “We're not killing them!” He shouted.

“We have to!” Liam shouted back.

Supported by James. “We should've dealt with 'em a long time ago. They think they can take whatever they want. This is just them testin' the boundaries I bet. If we don't act, they'll walk all over us. Stealin' more, if not everythin', next time.”

“And what after that? Right now it's food, but after they get stronger? What if they go after people like before? Picking us off who step past what rusted fences we have left?”

“Should have left those up.”

“NO!” Blake slammed a fist. “They stole food because they want to live like the rest of us. They could've taken a whole lot more than five rations. Could've taken half the barn in the night, but they didn't. They used restraint in how much they took. They're not heretics. They're survivors that escaped Knoth's iron fist and had no direction to go. Or any sort of outside help that could've led them to safety. I'm not going to be the one who executes them after fighting so hard for survival.” He looked at the others at the table. John looked like he wanted to say something, but shrunk from the table over all the yelling. Mathew looked about the same in the crumbling discussion.

Liam huffed. “Still, something has to be done. If you don't then the rest of us will.”

Marta crushing anymore thought of that. “Step out of line and see what happens.”

“Marta.” Blake warned in name. She gave him a glance then looked away, mumbling verses again. He didn't want her shutting things down, even if they weren't in his favor. That would only breed fear and hatred toward him and keep people silent instead of expressing their problems. “Me and Marta will discuss what to do. I won't kill them, but I won't let them keep stealing from us. The rest of you can leave until I think of something.” Waiting until the hall was cleared.

“Should we kill them now?”

“... No…” If I don't make Val a target, then maybe I won't make myself one

“Should we capture them?”

“No…”

“You wish to leave them?”

“If I could-” Locking up at the thought of taming Val, being caught and taken to the jail. Surely her followers would attempt to break her out. The overhanging fear of if she'd escape in the night. He'd be the grand trophy soon as she got out. Waking to the screams of people her and her followers slaughtered. He'd desperately run to hide in some far off corner. They'd search every crevice until they found him. The sounds of her steps approaching. Her voice coaxing him to come out. When he'd come face to face with her again forcing him down. Covered in muck and blood like down in the mines.

“Blake?” Marta's voice pulled him out of it. “You look ill.”

“Ugh, stress is all.” Swallowing his stomach. “I- ...” God, what do I do? I can't tame Val like she's some feral animal. Do I have to chain her up like one? Need to stop thinking of her like that. She can talk, she's a human being, she's not dumb. Feeling sick he hung his head low. I can't talk to her. She won't dare talk with Marta. Is there- ! His head shot up. “I need a diplomat.”

“Why not speak to her yourself? We know where they are. I can crack her if she takes a chance at you.”

“If I get her under control with a diplomat then as long as she follows the rules.” A nervous laugh escaped him. “Everything will be fine.”

The look he got from Marta showed her doubts. Her tone one that Blake hadn't heard in a long time. “She's a lustful demon who brings misery.” Oozing a viscous hatred toward the one she spoke of. “When her thirst for blood returns. She'll use you to fill her cup first.”

“... Do you want to… ?” In every other case she didn't have the spirit without Knoth's reassuring preaching. When it came to Val however...

“... I was always behind her, even under Knoth and she knew it well.” Her hatred filled gaze locked onto the table. “My faith was imperfect after all. When she fled I was given the task to crush her. To prove how unfaltering my faith was… All I could hear was her unending mockery outside Temple Gate, for months. Always behind... I knew one day I'd get my hands on her and she wouldn't receive an ounce of mercy. No matter how she begged or what pleas to God she'd scream. She knows it, and dares not tempt me whilst in reach.” Her eyes rose back to him. “… If I asked you, would you order me to kill Val?”

“No... Do you think I'm wrong to spare Val? Am I too soft?” Doubting himself on handling the situation.

“No. You have not led me astray yet, angel. You have kept your promise, even if I'm not joyful about it this time, for that I will always trust your lead.”

He smiled. “Thank you.”

“Who will be your diplomat?”

“I don't know… Has to be whoever's inside at least. They've lived within Temple Gate, but Val must trust them a lot.”

“How shall we catch them then? They've been slippin' through our grip for days now anytime one of us nears.”

“We need to draw them out a bit. First is solving the theft problem, which will help with the other. Lock it up tight for a few days then leave it unlocked with a trap set.”

“That seems too obvious.”

“Yes, but we'll starve them into it. if they're that hard for food they'll chance it even if they know full well what it is.”

“What if Val calls in a large group to raid the whole barn? She could send in someone from the outside instead of risking those closer.”

“A huge group like that managing it through the main of Temple Gate? And out again carrying huge loads of food. I don't think she could pull that off with the roaming guard. You can see the storage barn clear from your place already.”

“Are we going to ambush them?”

“No, this will be a lot more subtle. I know banks on the outside have explosive dye packs that stain the skin. Robbers accidentally dye themselves from the trap which leads police right to them. We look for anyone who didn't show for work. Or those suddenly wearing gloves. Check their hands and we'll know immediately. I could set something up like a dye without the bursting part.”

“Out of what?”

“Pen ink for one, a lot of it. I'll need to mix it with something to keep it from drying away. Then I only need a way to spread it on the thief in the act.”

“How long 'till we set this?”

“Three days if I figure it out before then. Just long enough to force their hand before starving. In the meantime keep watching that skittish. Maybe we'll find out more as they get desperate.”

“Let's say you do get 'em marked. What if they run? We'll be outta food and your diplomat.”

“You'll be watching. I know you can catch them. Don't hurt them though.”

Having the foundation for a plan, Blake called back James and Liam. Setting out an order to gather up every lockable cabinet or chest. All food would be locked away in each aside from another lock on the barn doors. James was to watch everyone going into the barn and make sure nothing was taken without permission. Blake promised them both he had more planned, but couldn't say. And that the locks were a small measure for now to set things up. When that was said and done he went to the privacy of his room to experiment with ink and various liquids. Mixing some drops into dish soap, cooking oil, and whatever else he found in the grand hall cabinets. His experiments not delivering a satisfactory mixture that would last. He had patches of dots covering his skin that were coming off far too easily. Half were gone from all the scrub tests he was doing.

What's so annoying to remove from skin? Remembering the time he ate a pomegranate that stained his hands red for a couple days. He went out to raid the kitchen for any fruit. Finding jars of jam to be his only option he grabbed one made of black berry's. His next experimental mixture proved itself to be quite the winner. It would keep the ink alive while providing its own dreadful stain age. The annoying stickiness would provide a small bonus of annoying the thieves causing problems. He stored away his supplies for the future, wrapped in a rugged cloth that would complete the trap. It would be what delivered the dye onto the unsuspecting thieves. Dropping the cloth down might miss or not stain enough. It has to be grabbed for some reason. Wrap up a bunch of supplies they have to unravel? Trunk would be best for that, but what if they just pick it up? Double checking any failures that could occur. The barn's new security measures had prevented anymore theft. Keeping to schedule on setting the trap on the next day. No one knew exactly what the trap was. The most James knew was that they'd “accidentally” leave the barn unlocked at the end of day. In his room Blake was mixing up his sticky dye into the ragged cloth. Wearing gloves the entire time he sloshed the bucket around. The cloth itself was permanently dyed by this point.

Next day he went out, holding his record book in one hand and covered dye bucket in the other. With Marta going one way and him heading for the barn to finalize the trap. Meeting up with James as if following the usual record taking schedule.

“What are we doing?” James asked as he followed Blake into the barn.

He pulled out one locked chest to open. “We're going to take out the jars in this chest, fill it with rocks, put jars back and layer them up into this cloth wet with dye. Set it back and keep it open, everything else stays locked. When whoever comes in to steal they'll pick what's easiest to get to. They can't lift it with the added rocks so they'll have to rummage for the jars. Try to unwrap them and get dye all over their hands. With how sticky it is they might make it worse by trying to wipe it off on their clothes. They'll be covered in dye by the time they leave and anyone else who touches the jars.” He explained while helped by James emptying the chest. Large slabs of stone set as evenly as possible at the bottom. Slipping back on the gloves Blake went to cautiously fold the fabric in. James layering jars between the winding over and under folds. Anybody wanting to grab jars had to slip away the cloth or risk yanking out jars that would break.

“You know, we're basically giving this food to them.” James grunted as they moved the chest. It took extreme effort to shove it back into place. Even Marta would struggle to drag it out. A few carrying it into the rugged forest would be impossible.

“I know, at this point it's allowed. I don't want to starve them to death. Hopefully after this we can set up rationing for them too.” Grabbing the jars was what the trap hinged on to tag any thieves. A loss Blake took as natural to help feed those starving.

“You want to feed them? Why, they haven't done any work to earn it?!”

“I want to make a line of communication with them. If we can work something out then we won't have to fear them any more and they get the help they need.”

“We could just get rid of 'em. Solves our problems and they don't get to eat for free.”

“No. I'm going to help them as much as I helped everyone else.”

“You better hope they don't stab you in the back.” James warned on their way to dinner. Barn door left cracked open to bait who came by.

Blake skipped out on eating. Unable to sleep that night under all the anxiety for tomorrow morning. Carving little figures again of wolves and bears to calm his nerves. When the morning light pooled under his door he left his room to meet the lords. Noticing right away that one was missing. “Where's John?”

Mathew was quick to answer. “He's sick, s-said he might be around later.”

“… Anything important he wanted to tell me?”

“No.” Unblinking without daring a glance away from Blake's stare.

Marta jumped on before Blake could reply. “You seen anyone strange around the hunting party? Skulking around that could be spyin' for Val?”

“N-no, I don't really stay with my dad m-much after workin' the hospital.” Ignoring the fact that Marta was aggressively glaring him down. “Should I be looking? I ain't very good at spotting people. I don't think i-id know.” Shaking under the pressure.

“Okay!” Blake stopped them. “… James, anything new?”

“More foods been stolen.”

Feigning surprise. “Shit, how'd that happen?”

“I think someone accidentally left the doors unlocked.”

“Well, we better double check and record what's gone. Anything important from the rest of you?” Receiving many head shakes. “Alright, dismissed. James, we'll meet you at the barn. Marta, and I need to discuss some things.” Waiting until they were alone to discuss the current unveiling. Marta's aggression unfolding in wanting to grab others she thought were traitors. “Johns a filthy traitor. Saw him fleein' the barn last night. Didn't bother to chase the snake after he headed right home. Think he expects to get the dye off before we notice. Should I interrogate Mathew?”

“See anyone else?” rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Your second shadow. I chased them, but lost ‘em down one of the alley ways.”

“Great, we'll both go talk to John, but only after we investigate the barn.”

“We should grab him now.”

“He won't want to risk his kid. Keep an eye on Mathew, but wait 'till I say.”

She mumbled a chain of frustrated verses. “As the angel asks, but that boy knows more than he lets on.”

“How do you know?”

“You can read anyone like a book if you watch 'em close enough. Even with your poor sight.”

“Hooow?”

“Each persons different. John's shoulders tense up too much when caught in a lie. Deeper you dig the more uncomfortable he gets. Starts shifting them like he slept on 'em wrong. Mathew gets too bold a stare tryin' to spare himself of guilt. Stumbling over his words like a drunk, with piled up words to buy him time to spin a story.”

“Mm, I'll take note of that.”

“He knows somethin' about that kill in the hall.”

“Do you think he did it?”

“No, not sure where his hand in it was. He did more than run right home, I'm sure of that.”

“Hm.” Save his interrogation for later. “After we interrogate John, I want you to look for anyone else who could be tagged. Then we'll look into Mathew.” Walking them out to the barn where they saw the crime scene inside. Chest shuffled from its last position, but not far. Fabric tossed aside to dye the floor. Chest covered in dark hand prints from being handled so much. All the jars filling it were long gone. “Someones definitely tagged. Me and Marta are going to visit a few we think are involved. For today, pay attention to anyone missing, look for anyone with dye on their hands or those trying to suddenly stay covered.” He told James, on the way out with Marta leading the way to johns. Blake approached the front door to knock.

John answered, partly hiding behind the door. “Sir?”

“Heard you were sick. You okay?”

His voice jitterly assured. “Oh, I'm fine.” Rubbing a shoulder with a gloved hand. “Nothing serious, must be a cold.”

“Why are you wearing gloves?”

“Oh, uh, blisters. From work” Shifting his shoulders. “The cold air doesn't help them feel any better.”

“Oh, I can help those. Let me see.”

“No need. It's not that serious. I think I'll go back to bed now. This cold-”

Marta shoved her way inside. “Sit down.” She ordered with a point to his small dining table. Scaring John into following orders. She loomed over him where he sat while Blake sat down across from him.

Blake ordered, “Let me see your hands.” Instead of asking this time.

John rubbed them together as he glanced around for some way out of this situation. Unable to run while under Marta's watch and unable to talk his way out. He slipped the gloves off to reveal skin covered by that dark reddish dye.

Blake sighed at the sight. “Stand up, we need to go talk.”

John went pale. “I know what I did was serious.” Pleading before anything else was said. “It was all me sir, please don't drag my boy into this. Don't lock him up, I swear-”

“John.” The furious look he shot him shut him up immediately. This whole time Blake had to deal with so much anxiety. That all washed away to a burning anger. “Do you realize how much shit I've been dealing with? You've been stealing food and I had to stop the hunts.” John sat in silence. Blake let out his anger in a frustrated breath. “This is serious. We need a long talk someplace private. Don't cause a scene on the way or you'll make things worse.” Getting him up to head out. Marta aggressively followed him the entire way. They stepped down into the jail where they entered a small side room. Marta stood by the door while Blake and John sat at a table.

Where to begin? Blake thought. “You need to answer honestly or else I can't help anyone here. Right now, you and your son could be jailed or banished out of Temple Gate if you refuse to cooperate.” Seeing John swallow at the threat. He took a deep breath to start the questioning. “Why were you stealing food?” He knew the answer, but this was to get confirmation from John as well as something easy to answer.

“Help feed everyone. It was easier with the foraging still high, but with everything dead 'till spring. Hunting was all that was left. They couldn't catch enough.”

“So you set up the hunting party to be robbed?”

“Yes, The meat never lasted. They were starving even before Knoth's death, over half were sick or too injured to help. Their situation never improved after. Had no supplies to farm, barely a shelter or anything to survive on like Temple Gate has.”

“What else have you given them?”

“Only medication on the day you handed it out.”

“Did you set me up when we first headed for town? You didn't want me bringing Marta along.”

“NO! No, no!” He adamantly denied. Shrinking in his chair as if Marta would bash his skull in any moment now. “We were scared of what Marta would do if she found us. They had no ways to defend themselves. If I was leading, You pass by without Marta and they don't get anymore danger over their heads. When the mudslide hit I convinced James and Jacob to split up. Either they found you or Val would after I asked her for help.”

“Then why was I almost killed?!”

“That wasn't supposed to happen. Val didn't want that, It was Ayzel who did it. He still has a bone to pick with Temple Gate. Val was furious when she caught him and worried Temple Gate would come after us for harming you. The plan from there was to take you to the caves and make sure you were okay. I would've been “caught” to give you support until then. After you were better enough we would have “escaped”. That never happened after you ran. At that point nothing mattered. We were past the caves, Marta was there and she wasn't going to leave after that.”

“So Val's not after me?”

“No, she's not after anyone. Her goal matches yours - keep everyone alive. She's been struggling to keep the clan on their feet.”

“A while ago we caught her and a random member of hers wandering some rotten area. The area south east, close to the cave. She was standing by until we let that one go. What was that about?”

“She'd mention a few times about worrying what Temple Gate was planning. Wanting to keep post at night to feel assured that no attack was coming. One talk we had I noticed she wasn't as paranoid as before. Sounds like what you did helped.”

“Great, is Mathew helping her too?”

“... Yes, but not nearly as much as me. If we were caught I didn't want him blamed. Please don't exile him for this. Please.”

“I won't if you help me with Val.”

John froze at what that could mean. “I- how?”

“I want to make you a diplomat. You'll pass messages between me and Val on how to handle issues between us. I can help them, but they're some conditions. She can't keep stealing food, that has to stop or else. If she agrees to that I'll give them rations, but I need to know the exact number of how many of you there are.” I'll also know officially how many of them there are against us.

“I-I don't know if I-”

“If you can't convince her to agree, then don't bother coming back.” His fierce gaze pierced John's soul. “Stealing food is serious and I won't allow you to stay here. Forcing me to worry about what you'll do next. Putting everyone at risk. Your son can stay, but he'll be demoted and watched more carefully. I'm going to let you go today. Starting now, you have three days to work it out with her or leave. Got that?”

“Yes sir.”

[softschofield]

Its heartbreaking when you realize that for both Will and Joe Tom was their lifeline and especially for Joe who relied on the letters from his baby brother to distract him from the horror that was going around him and seeing how Joe is an officer Tom was his best friend on the frontline even though they were in different Regiments and for Will Tom was not just his best friend he was also likely his only friend he had since the Somme which makes Tom's death even worse

i know. i know i know i know i know my heart is broken and i love the pain

but yes like, joe knows tom is going home next week. he knows he’s going to see their mother, see myrtle, help pick the cherries from the orchard - and he’s so happy for him, so excited. he doesn’t have scho’s secondhand fears about how tom will change when he comes home from leave - he’s just happy.

and on the morning of the 6th, when his battalion is still sheltered in the woods, waiting for the cover of darkness to begin digging their trenches into the chalk soil, he sits against a tree and writes a letter to tom - he gently teases him, and tells him to pop in on joe’s fiancée and give her a hug, and gives him a list of things to tell her and their mother; and he’s still the older brother, he’s still the responsible one who helped run the family and the farm when their father died, and blake is young and round-faced and innocent, so he doesn’t feel at all self-conscious about showing open affection, about telling tom he loves him, and about asking him to press a cherry blossom and send it to him in the post.

he hasn’t seen tom since before his little brother enlisted; joe had gone back home on leave a few times, and tom had still been there, too young to sign up, restless and grumpy and sweet, speaking around a mouthful of cake at the kitchen table and taking him for walks in the sunshine to show him the new-born lambs. then, six months ago, almost the moment he turned eighteen, tom had sent him a letter, gushing with excitement. three and a bit months later, he’d sent him another one - i’m just down the road from you, it had said, so childishly, naïvely excited. if i stood up on a hill and waved my arms, you’d be able to see me. 

he finishes his letter, and smiles down at it as his men chatter softly around him, and a few miles away, his baby brother stops breathing.

[aspoonofsugar]

Bumbleby VS Robyn

Blake and Yang's most important moment in volume 7 is their disagreement over Ironwood and Ruby, which is solved with their fight against Robyn and their choice to share the truth with her.

This is overall a minor moment, but it touches on several important themes and ideas, which are central to Blake and Yang's arcs.

ROBYN AS BUMBLEBY'S FOIL

Robyn herself is an interesting foil to both bees.

Just like Blake, she is a freedom fighter and she isn't afraid to break the law for her ideals:

Robyn: The law isn't perfect, you know. It's certainly not equal. My only goal is that all the citizens of Mantle and Atlas -- and Faunus -- have an equal shot at a good life.

Blake: There's too much wrong in this world to just stand by and do nothing. Inequality, corruption… Someone has to stop it.

Her political history even resembles Blake's. She is the leader of a movement, who hopes to change society peacefully. Still, when this chance is stolen, she resorts to strength.

Just like Yang, she is a person who gives much importance to honesty and trust:

Robyn: We can't fix the wall without the supplies on these trucks. I think Mantle deserves to know what they're being used for. It doesn't have to be difficult. Just tell me.

Yang: If we're going to help, if we're going to keep risking our lives, no more lies. No more half-truths.

She even resembles our Goldilock in personality. She is as quick to give names as Yang is to make puns. Morevoer, both are strong-willed and sometimes hot-headed. (Also, both are blond and with purple eyes)

So, Blake and Yang are really asked to face off against a part of themselves. Not only that, but they are forced to play parts they deep down dislike.

Blake is forced to arrest a Huntress, who is trying to help the poor and the oppressed:

Blake: I can tell you, ambushing a Huntress who's just trying to help isn't an option I'm thrilled about choosing.

Our Shadow Beast has spent the majority of her life fighting Atlas, but she is now allied with Ironwood who embodies the Kingdom and its classism.

Yang is forced to hide information from others. Both from Ironwood because of Ruby and from Robyn because of Ironwood:

Yang: Do you… Do you think we should've told Ironwood about Salem, before he put so much on the line for Amity? I trust Ruby, but I think he deserves to know what he's stepping into. We all did.

She was the angriest at Ozpin for keeping secrets, but she is now withholding information herself.

In short, Blake and Yang are in a new situation. Blake is with those in power. Yang is in the known. And yet things aren't easier:

Blake: I'm not sure there are many good options left for any of us anymore. Keeping secrets, taking lives? It makes you wonder how far we're gonna have to go to keep doing the right thing.

Now that they are stronger and wiser, the bees realize they might be becoming like those they resented. So, they decide to forge a new path:

Blake: It isn't an option I'm thrilled about choosing. Yang: Then, maybe we shouldn't.

They take a risk and share the truth with Robyn. What's the outcome?

SHADOW AND LIGHT

Out of the ashes a new flame ignite Rise up from shadows and into the light

Bumbleby vs Robyn is a fight, which makes full use of shadows and lights. This kind of symbolism is dear to Blake:

After all, she is linked to the twilight, when lights and shadows meet, because she is meant to become a bridge between different cultures and people. Here, she fulfills this role.

Throughout their battle, Bumbleby stay in the light. Robyn instead steps into the shadows:

This happens because our 2 girls can move in the light of Atlas society and know the truth. Meanwhile Robyn can only survive by escaping and hiding and is in the dark.

So, Blake tries to overcome the gap:

Blake: Amity Colosseum, all these supplies, they're for… They're for a new communications tower.

She leads Robyn towards the light:

This is Blake's call. She is supposed to bring people lost in darkness into the light. This is why symbolically she can see in darkness (like a cat). It is so she can notice people who are unseen and unheard and make them visible and heard. Here, she stays true to herself.

PLAY BOTH SIDES

Play both sides (play both sides) When truth you cannot recognize

Bumbleby vs Robyn is rooted in the themes of trust, lies and truth. All these ideas are central to Yang's character:

Raven: The truth is that "truth" is hard to come by. A story of victory for one person is a story of defeat for someone else. By now, your uncle has surely told Ruby and her friends plenty of stories.

This is Raven's teaching, after all. In order to understand the complexity of the world Yang should doubt others and ask questions:

Yang: Why should we believe any of this? Raven: Now you're catching on. So far you've done nothing but accept what others tell you, but you need to question everything.

This is the only way for her to see what is usually hidden:

Scathing eyes ask that we be symmetrical, one sided and easily processed. Yet every misshapen spark's unseen beauty is greater than its would be judgement.

So, this is what Yang does throughout the whole scene. She expresses doubts about Ruby's decision and comes up with her own strategy to deal with the current situation. Blake may be the heart of the operation, as she is the most determined to get through and is the one to step forward. Still, Yang is the mind, as she is the one to bring up the idea in the first place. Let's highlight this idea is in itself an ambiguous solution.

On the one hand Yang and Blake are telling Robyn the truth and trusting her. On the other hand they are adding new secrets and lies between them and Ironwood's group:

Ironwood: Are you with me? How did Robyn know about the Global Communications Project?

In short, Yang finds a solution to pursue trust and honesty, but she does so by accepting the necessity of a gray zone. Maybe this is why she is the one who looks straight into the shadows, after Blake leaves first:

And what she sees is disturbingly familiar:

Robyn: I won't stop until I know the whole truth.

Yang: That question… Why? I didn't know an answer, but I was determined to find out. It was all I thought about.

ADAM AND RAVEN'S GHOSTS

So, the bees come up together with a solution to their current predicament.

Blake is passionate about this idea and pursues it with faith. She leads Robyn into the light with no hesitation.

Yang comes up with the plan, but is wary of the situation. She looks at Robyn's shadows and has doubts.

These opposite approaches are complementary and clearly stem from Blake and Yang's different developments, which the scene references through the subtle presence of both Adam and Raven.

Adam is directly alluded to:

Yang: Blake. We did… what we had to do. Blake: I know. But next time, I wanna make sure we don't have to.

Blake regrets killing Adam. She knows she had no other choice, but is still not happy about it and does not want to go through something similar again. Even if she is now stronger and free, she still has some emotions to unpack. This is why Adam comes up here and in another moment of volume 7:

Blake: I just realized where we are. This mine was closed after an explosion. Weiss: I remember this disaster. Or rather, I remember how furious it made my father. I wish I could take back the years of pain my family has caused the Faunus and all of my complacency in it.

In the mine Blake remembers both Adam's SDC scar and Ilia's parents. They are two memories linked to Faunus discrimination, which is a problem she is still grappling with. Our Cat Girl is then still mulling over some unsolved feelings over:

Adam's death

The Faunus discrimination

It is then no surprising this comes up in 2 scenes linked to specifically Yang and Weiss, so the 2 characters set up to help with these 2 sides of Blake's story.

Raven isn't mentioned, but her presence is there, as Yang clearly follows her mother's advice. She is asking questions and thinking for herself. She even comes up with a plan where she and Blake go behind their allies' back for what they believe in.

Yang: You're right. I don't know you. I only know the Raven dad told me about. She was troubled, and complicated, but she fought for what she believed in, whether it was her team or her tribe!

In other words, Yang here takes after Raven. She plays the part of the Wise Woman who shares a part of her knowledge, but not all of it because it is dangerous:

Yang: Look, we are trusting you, so trust us when we say that Amity Tower needs to stay a secret until it's done. We just need a little more time.

Yang is clearly conflicted about this. As she is in general conflicted about Raven herself. This is shown also in another moment of volume 6:

Maria: Child, a Huntress is supposed to protect others to the bitter end. But after I lost my eyes, I only ever looked after myself. Even after my surgery, I was too afraid to fight. Afraid someone would find me again, finish what the others started. You shouldn't aspire to be like me, especially when some of you are clearly stronger already. Upon hearing this, Yang looks down sadly.

Once again it is the context and Yang's body language which drive the message home. Maria frames herself as an authority figure who fails the younger generation. She says she ran away and that the kids are clearly already stronger than her. This is bound to bring a very specific conversation to Yang's mind:

Yang: Oh, shut up!! You don't know the first thing about strength! You turn your back on people, you run away when things get too hard, you put others in harm's way instead of yourself!! You might be powerful, but that doesn't make you strong.

In short, Yang still can't fully process Raven. She can't reconcile the Wise Woman with the Terrible Mother. This is what these 2 brief moments suggest. And once again they seem lousely linked to 2 different teammates:

Blake > the girl Yang loves and with whom she wants to share a future with

Ruby > Yang's little sister she is determined to protect like their mother couldn't

Future and Past - 2 things Yang still has to fully deal with.

As you can see, these short scene is really full of motifs, themes and foreshadowing. Blake and Yang's arcs have been on break throughout Atlas, but the 2 girls still received moments which flesh them out and build their future storyarcs.

[mill3rd]

EYELESS GUILT

pairing/s: finney blake x reader (romantic)

synopsis: in which, you'll forever feel guilty for not being able to thank finney for killing the grabber.

extra: this was requested lmao

──────────────────────────────

you weren't the first. but you were definitely the worst. maybe because the grabber decided that he hated little girls and wasn't happy with his changed pattern. you were taken a few months after griffin stagg's disappearance. it didn't take long for you to act out which was your first mistake. your beatings were horrible and soon came the day your life ended.

you fought back against the man and definitely did some damage, but he was stronger. he took his time with you and made sure he made it as painful as possible. first, he broke your fingers by standing on them with all his weight. then, he dug your eyes out of their sockets. you remember screaming until your voice couldn't handle it anymore. you remember the feeling of his blade cutting deep from the centre of your chest to the bottom of your stomach. you could feel the tip of the blade graze your spine.

you don't know why, but your last thoughts were finney. probably your favourite memory. you guys were younger, like maybe around four years old and gwen was probably a year old. finney's mum was still alive and you were staying over at finney's while your dad was at work. she was making cookies and when she finished the batter, she heard gwen crying in the next room and left in panick. you and finney giggled and you got on his back so you could eat grab the bowl and bring it down. you and finney ate like pigs out of it, taking large chunks of cookie batter and stuffing your faces with them. you and finney got the biggest scolding for it and a three day tummy ache, but it was so worth it.

your head lolled to the side while the pain really settled in. you could barely cry, let alone scream. you huffed and sniffed, but you couldn't hear yourself. everything was a buzzing static noise. you don't know why it took so long for you to die, you remained conscious for most of it. you don't remember much. you must've passed out during the gutting.

you remember waking up in that fucking basement again. but you felt lighter. you were dead. you knew it very well. you couldn't see anything, but you could feel the dominant liquid inside your body all over you. you had to rely on your hearing. griffin made good company and was helpful to you when you needed and eventually, many more accompanied you both. though one day, bruce said, "it's finney blake." your finney. you clenched your fists as you replayed the words in your mind.

"what?" you threw a large tantrum, the boys automatically drifting to the corner while you hoarsely screamed and yelled curses. the ghost boys felt the basement shake and small cracks appear in the tops of the walls. your screams must've been so loud they interfered with the real world. they all feared your temper and wrath. hell, even vance was scared.

when you has finally calmed down, you heard griffin speak, "he's still alive, but he's currently dazed from the spray he used on us all." you nodded as you decided to listen in on the real world. it wasn't long til you heard a door open and footsteps. then you heard his voice. he was talking to finney but you heard no response. after a while, he left, as did you.

you wanted to communicate with him through the phone, but the boys decided it was best they saved you for last. billy told you what finney was doing and you thanked him for being so helpful. finney was doing well. then, it was your turn.

"hey finney." you croaked. your voice wasn't the same but it was recognisable. you listened to how he gasped, "y/n?" you learned to sense who was near you and where you were and using that, you guided yourself towards finney, "is that you?" you breathed, making a static sound through the phone, "yeah, i think so. i think that's me."

finney gulped, "your name is the first to go. bruce said that." you raised a brow, "bruce?" you heard finney clear his throat, "yeah, bruce." you swallowed, "i don't know a bruce..." after a few moments, you spoke again, "how long has it been?" you heard finney sniffle, "a year." you frowned, trying to reach finney, but your hand went straight through him.

"i miss you. a lot." finney stood with his head down and you leant against the wall infront of him, "i'm right here." finney stared at you in horror. your eyes stitched open, revealing empty sockets, your tank top ripped in half, revealing the large gash and your organless stomach, blood coming from your stomach, hairline, eyes and small cuts.

"what happened?" you shook your head, "doesn't matter, but your gonna get out for me, understand?" finney stumbled on his words, "understand?" your words were firm and harsh, resulting in a quick nod from the boy.

"get out for us." you were referring to the two of us, "i don't wanna see you go the way we all did. like i did." finney's hand trembled on the phone, "will i talk to you again?" you shook your head, "this was the last call, finney."

"you talked to robin, he taught you some basic fighting skills. when you do fight him, find a way to take his mask off. it weakens him, he hates his face being revealed." finney took your words in until your time was up with him.

"hey finney.." finney urged you to go on, "i love you." finney felt tears well up in his eyes, ".. love you too." you smiled at him, "tell gwenny i said hi and that i miss her too." finney put the phone down and you disappeared.

one day you heard griffin say he was dead. you knew what that meant and you smiled. you listened to the voice but it sounded like he was in a void. the same way it was for all the ghosts. you entered a fit of rage like when you found out finney was here, but it was worse. you voice was still hoarse but it was deep and high pitched at the same time. you felt the basement floor shake and the flicker of the light clicked in your ears, louder every time. you felt liquid trickle from your empty sockets.

you were angry. the grabber got away with everything again. you wanted to kill him, you wanted to be brought to justice and it broke your beatless heart when you learned another kid was taken and killed. it went on for ages, but now, he's here. with you. you can finally do what you have wanted to fo for a year. your hands gripped the grabber's neck, now that you were in the same form, you could finally put your hands on him.

you screamed in his face, "you bastard! all you ever did was make us suffer and now, you'll know what it feels like! i'll make you wish you were dead, over and over again! for as long as my ghost remains, i'll kill you! over and over again! i'll mangle you until you beg for no more, i won't stop, i'll make sure you regret ever being born, i'l make you regret taking any of us, taking griffin, taking me, taking billy, taking vance, taking robin, taking finney! you'll regret it so much. i'll make it so bad for you that you'll be begging to see the gates of hell!"

only the devil could save him now.

[howlingday]

Face The Music

Jaune: H-Hey, Weiss?

Weiss: Yes, Jaune?

Jaune: I, uh, have some news for you.

Weiss: Oh? What is it?

Jaune: It's, uh, about our relationship.

Weiss: What relationship? We're just friends.

Jaune: Um, n-not anymore. See, uh, I've been keeping a secret from you guys.

Weiss: Oh, is this about your late night rendezvous with someone?

Jaune: Oh, uh, I guess you guys do know.

Weiss: I don't pry into gossip, but Blake told Yang and Ruby that they saw you sneak into a hotel with an older woman.

Jaune: Y-Yeah. About that. About her...

Weiss: Jaune, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. What happens behind closed doors is your business, not mine.

Jaune: I'd normally agree, except this is your business. And I have to tell you this.

Weiss: Okay? Why?

Jaune: Because... Because I've been dating your mom.

Weiss: ...

Jaune: Weiss?

Weiss: ...I'm sorry, but I think I misheard you. I thought you said you were dating my mother.

Jaune: Yeah, I did. And... And there's more.

Weiss: Oh dust... Please don't brag to me you've been intimate with her.

Jaune: Uh, it's a bit more than that.

Weiss: What do you mean?

Jaune: I can call Willow right now and-

Weiss: No! You will not speak my mother's name so casually, Jaune Arc! My mother may not be perfect, but she would never cheat on my father, especially with someone like you!

Jaune: Weiss...

Weiss: I don't want to hear it! This is a sick joke, Jaune Arc, and I refuse to acknowledge it!

Jaune: (Sighs) I thought so.

Weiss: (Scroll buzzes, Sees) ...Jaune, you are one of my closest friends. So believe me when I tell you this, because it is with the most sincerity I can muster. I want you out of this room, or I will kill you, right where you stand.

Jaune: (Leaves, Shuts door behind him)

Weiss: (Answers scroll) Mother.

Willow: Weiss. I take it Jaune already told you.

Weiss: ...Then it's true.

Willow: Weiss-

Weiss: Why?! Why would you do this?! With him?! Father wasn't always perfect. No where near so, I admit. But to bring infidelity into our family?!

Willow: Weiss, please-

Weiss: Why?! Why would you betray father like this?!

Willow: ...I had enough of it. When I learned about him embezzling the company to support his campaign, I confronted him. I was sober, if you can believe it. I was so angry, I forgot the bottle and began shouting at him. I called him every name I could, but when I told him he wasn't a true Schnee, he hit me.

Weiss: Mother...

Willow: I left, realizing what had happened. He tried to follow, but... I filed for divorce later that evening.

Weiss: I... I just don't understand... Mother, I...

Willow: Weiss. Please, don't cry.

Weiss: ...I just can't stop thinking about it. All those years you were with him. All the parties, and the galas, and the dinners... Were they all lies? Did you ever love each other?

Willow: I... I don't know, Weiss. The last thirty years feel like a blur now when I think of him.(Shudders) Dust, I wish I had a drink.

Weiss: You are sober?

Willow: Yes. I have been for months now. Ever since... Ever since I started dating Jaune.

Weiss: Right. I... had almost forgotten about the reason you called.

Willow: I met him on my way to drown my sorrows. I needed something stronger than what was here, and I needed to be as far away from your father as possible. Jaune was coming back from a mission at the local school and found me arguing with a clerk. Your father cancelled my bank account.

Weiss: He would do that.

Willow: Yes. Then Jaune stepped in, offered to pay, and then did when I insisted him not to. He escorted me to a bench and we started talking. He said something funny, and... I laughed. I must have looked insane, but it was the first real laugh I had in... so long.

Weiss: What did he say?

Willow: He was telling me how his dinners are set for weeks because his missions have been, quote, "on a cassarole".

Weiss: Ugh, so you were the one woman he bragged to us about. The one who "actually laughed" at his joke.

Willow: I'm glad to know he was speaking of me.

Weiss: But... why? Why all the secrecy? The divorce? The dating? Does... Does Whitely know? Or Winter?

Willow: Whitely was aware, but... he may be taking this worse than you are. I'm honestly surprised he hasn't told you or Winter of this.

Weiss: We have grown distant since I left. Again.

Willow: Can you talk to him? Please? He won't even look at me, and he has his meals brought to his room.

Weiss: After... this, I will. I still need to discuss this with Jaune.

Willow: Of course.

Weiss: And what about Winter? Does she know?

Willow: She does, and she had the exact opposite reaction. She told me I had waited too long on making the best decision of my life.

Weiss: Of course she did. (Sigh) Nothing left now but to discuss this with Jaune.

Willow: Weiss, please, remain calm. I understand this is a lot to process, especially with the baby coming.

Weiss: ...Baby?

Willow: Yes, the... I suppose Jaune hasn't told you everything yet.

Weiss: No. But he's about to.

[spir1tfar3r]

— Jealous Bobby

request by @thecowardwrites: Pls pls pls jealous Bobby Mckenzie one-shot 😭😭 pls pls pls ily

words: 727

warning(s): jealousy, Lucas and Bobby are mean to each other,,, I think that’s it idk </3

a/n: is this really 100% jealous bobby? Idk. Did I get sad writing Lucas in this way? yeah </3 Um,, I’m not sure how I feel about this and I changed a couple of things because I’m an idiot and made this headcanons instead so it’s not as good as I wanted it to be :,)

© kodzurin 2021– plagiarism, reposts, or anything related or copying isn’t allowed.

Bobby was described by most people as kind, funny, pretty carefree, energetic, and much more. One term they would never use to describe him, however, was jealous.

Sure, there have been times where he’d become silent or watch you more closely when he had caught someone flirting with you but no one had really considered that as jealousy. They simply considered it as him making sure that everything was ok and that you weren’t uncomfortable with whatever was being said towards you. That was until the day you had went to Casa Amor. The night before was supposed to be a happy moment for the two of you but of course, like everything on this island, nothing went as planned. Lucas had called out your name before he had even had the chance too. Bobby swore everything stopped when he saw you stand up, getting ready to head over to Lucas and not back to him. He tried talking to you after the recoupling but to his dismay, one of you were called away before he even had the chance. Before the new female islanders showed up, the remaining islanders were surprised, to say the least, when they heard Bobby shouting. Ibrahim and Gary were the first to reach him, the others following after them, shocked to see the two holding Bobby away from Lucas in case the fight would escalate. The shouting didn’t stop, though Bobby’s voice became hoarse as he continued. “We were supposed to couple up! How the hell could you say ‘it doesn’t matter’ when a recouple could ruin things between people? You knew how I felt about them!”

Gary pulled the boy farther back, trying to push him out of the room as he muttered things like “it’s not worth it mate”, “you’ll see them soon, I promise”, “nothing will change how either of you feel about each other”. Ibrahim’s hold on Bobby was gone after a certain comment from Lucas as he claimed that Bobby should just get over it and how if you cared about him so much you would have woken him up instead before you had left. He even went as far as saying it was obvious who you liked more anyways, and it certainly didn’t seem like Bobby was winning. Noah called him out on how unnecessary it was to say things like that to Bobby, Jakub even standing up for him as Gary had finally managed to push him out of the room. When the two had gotten into the living (sitting??) room Bobby sighed, trying to calm himself down as much as he could so he wouldn’t ruin the rest of the night for the new islanders. Gary tried to cheer him up, going as far as telling stupid puns to make him laugh, nearly messing up all of them. By the time the islanders got there all he could think about was what Lucas had told him and it made him realize that it was definitely possible to lose you before he had the chance to tell you just how much you meant to him.

Any frustration that he had actually managed to get rid of only came back stronger as the days passed and he saw Lucas getting a little too comfortable with Blake. Calling Lucas out only had gotten a shrug in return and some vague comment about you and some guy in Casa Amor. However, when he asked Blake, she told him that Lucas didn’t really care anymore and told her that he had a feeling that it wouldn’t work out between you two anyways. Before heading out to you and the others again, Bobby was sure to call Lucas out on everything once again, claiming that “he never deserved you anyways” and “I hope you’re happy about leaving them single”. Gary and Noah asked him to lay off, telling him that it didn’t even matter now that you’re back and all he could do was stand and wait until he could go out. When the time finally came, he stepped out, searching for you. Seeing you stand next to Lottie alone, his heart skipped a beat and when you met his gaze, he ran, not caring how silly he may have looked to the group and the viewers at home. All he wanted was to have you in his arms again.

[noneatnonedotcom]

We know there’s that joke about everyone else in RWBY is playing Devil May Cry while Jaune is stuck playing Dark Souls right? But what if Jaune is actually pulled into a Souls game(s) by a different god when he fell into the black? Chosen Undead, Ashen One, Bearer of the Curse, Tarnished, the Hunter, Sekiro, Hollow Knight, or whatever, he has to live in those shoes until the other god is ‘satisfied’ and sends him back with all his new gear. How do you think that’d change things if/when he gets back?

Jaunes timing is now to such a level that no one can beat him and he's developed true confidence to the point he doesn't care if everyone is more fun to watch fight he just dose whatever is most effective.

His relationship with his friends becomes strained as it's now a group of teenagers and a full grown man trying to be friends. Jaune becomes a bit of a loner as he's too young to hang with the last generation and too old for his own.

Weiss, Blake and yang all take issue with jaune not being the weakest anymore. Before it was easy to know that jaune was the low man on the totem pole. Now the comfortable world they knew is gone.

Yang is at least honest with her anger and tries to fight jaune. Jaunes used to enemies who get stronger as you hurt the so she loses and yang just accepts it after that. Weiss and Blake both have their entire world views tied into either being the best or in Blake's case secretly being the main character in a YA novel. Blake tries to attract jaune but that fails because of her comparative Immaturity. She and Weiss then try to ruin him so they're back to the way things were but aren't successful because they're petty teenagers and don't know how to attack someone who isn't insecure and questioning their place in life.

Pyrrha gets closure on her crush when jaune just asks her if she has one. Social rejection isn't scary to jaune anymore so he's more willing to get egg on his face if he was wrong. They try dating but it fails because again jaunes seen the literal end of the world and fought gods he can't relate to Pyrrha tho he emphasizes with her. They agree to try again in a few years

Nora and Ren become more distant with jaune no longer drawing them in. Nora was already too much for most of the group it was the fact that her team always forgave her that let her stick around in the social group they built. But with only Pyrrha really drawing her and Ren out of their shells it's not enough. Ren also is pretty immature being a teenager his zen only lasts till stress overwhelms his semblance so he has never had to learn to deal with his emotions. The two become more co dependent until jaune starts acting like a father figure to them helping them mature. Though it takes a while for him to come back from what he's dealing with PTSD and depression is a bitch like that.

Ruby is the only one who still remains close to jaune because she's the only one mature enough to not care about power or her own Immaturity. While jaune might not care about her problems the same way he used to. He does still care. They just don't seem as big anymore. Ruby accepts that she and jaune are different. But that doesn't stop her from being his friend and seeking him out even when he's caught up in his own mind and having flashbacks to the hell he went through. Ruby helps jaune remain human.

Cinder dies along with mercury and emerald during the attack on the vital festival. Jaune's used to killing giant creatures so the dragon and paladins are dealt with freeing up most of the other huntsmen to overwhelm cinder in numbers and delay her from becoming a maiden long enough for Pyrrha to become one and ozpin to then join the fray and kill cinder. Mercury tries to surrender he's later put to death for the attempted destruction of vale. Emerald refuses to give up on cinder and is killed by the other huntsmen. Neo escapes to anima with Roman still dead.

Salem adjusts her plans and stays in the shadows

[jayankles]

The Culmination: Endgame

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Word Count: 2362

Summary: Y/N doesn’t feel so good and it’s not like her to not answer the phone to Sebastian. He was right to send over Josie, Y/N’s friend, over to find out what’s wrong.

Warnings: Angst, Implied Smut, Fluff

Written for: @anyfandomangstbingo​ | @anyfandomfluffbingo​ | @anyfandomgoesbingo​ 

Squares Filled:  Sick fic | first time | “I really don’t like doing this over the phone”

A/N - Blake Lively is not a representation of the reader; it’s just for the dress. And the other beautiful woman is exactly who I pictured for Josie.

Feedback is gold and appreciated

Of course, you were sick today. The day that Sebastian had told you that he was to take a day at the gym then spend it with Don. You knew that when you woke up this morning it wasn’t going to be a good day, the cold sheets a little foreshadowing of how your day would have gone. The little guttural feeling you had punching you in the gut right now, it had you on the floor, bent over the toilet seat with your head in the bowl.

You felt awful. Unable to move, unless it was your throat spasming. Definitely the worst day so far, you couldn’t move and when you finally were able to move at all you felt like a robot. Not a good look.

You decided that it was time to head back to bed, none of your food would stay down so you made yourself a bottle of water and stumbled into bed with a bucket in your hand, ready to put the bucket on the floor beside your bed.

Pulling at the covers, you curled up under them and took a swig of your drink. Tears rolled down your face as you felt the pain grow stronger, you rubbed your stomach in hopes it would make you feel better; it didn’t.

All you could do was pray that you would fall asleep to not feel this pain anymore. Sleep evaded you. The pain is all there is that you feel. You threw up another three times before you finally succumbed to the pleasures of sleep. Rattling of keys had been the object that had drawn you out of your few moments of slumber. You didn’t dare move though, there was no point, you couldn’t move anyway.

“Y/N! Y/N, where are you?” It took you a minute to realise that it was your friend, Josie, shouting your name in hopes of finding you. “Y/N, Whe- There you are. What are you still doing in bed? Oh...”

She looked as if she sighed out a breath of relief before she retracted, covering her mouth and nose with her hand. Inhaling the stench of the room, she quickly ran out of there, returning with air freshener, spraying it around you to make her feel better.

“You need a bath, babe. Stay here and I’ll run you one. Of course you’re going to stay here, you poor thing.” Josie rambled, you stopped her before she could go on for another hour.

“Jo, pour some lavender in there. Love you.”

Freshly out of the bath after thirty minutes, you were wrapped up in Sebastian’s bathrobe, a reminder that he was home as it still smelt like him. “I hate feeling like this. It sucks. But I feel better already.”

Josie softly smiled at you, pity in her eyes. “Must have been that nap you took but I know it sucks. Could you imagine Seb with this kinda illness, though? It would be 100% worse just because it’s man flu.”

“Thank you for being here.” You said, taking a seat on the couch. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Seb called, said he tried texting and video chatting you but you wouldn’t pick up. I guess he was right to have me come over and check on you.”

“He’s such a cutie.” You groaned as you walked, the bath only slightly relieving some of the pain.

“I know. It makes me wanna barf… not like you, though. That shit is nasty, no, thank you, ma’am.” She tutted through a pinched nose, reminding of just how gross you felt and smelt not even a mere hour ago.

“You’re a pleasure as always, Jo. Always so kind to me, when I feel like shit. Thank you.”

She shrugged knowingly, a smirk on her face as she reached forward for the remote, finding a music channel and turning it down a little so it faded into the background becoming nothing but white noise. “So do you know what brought this on? Eat some bad food?”

“I don’t think so, otherwise Seb would feel the same way right?”

“Well you aren’t pooping as well as being sick so this isn’t a viral or bacterial thing. You’re not burning up? No severe migraines?” She asked and you only had one answer.

“Nope. And no, my appendix hasn’t burst because I’ve already had it out.” You said, becoming tired again as you let out a yawn.

“Well, I think I might need to slip out for a little bit.”

“Why? Where are you going? I thought you were going to take care of me?”

“I am. I’m just gonna head to the store and grab you some stuff to make tomato soup. I’ll be twenty minutes tops.” Josie was true to her word, never taking more than the twenty minutes she promised. Putting the bag of groceries on the counter, Josie pulls out the contents, revealing the ingredients she offered to get for you but you could tell that there was something else in the bag.

“What’s in there?”

Josie was fidgety, her fingers twiddling together. “I need you to keep an open mind because I think I know why you’re grossly throwing up.”

“Hit me. I wanna know how I can feel better right now.”

“It’s a good thing that you’re sitting down because…” She paused, making a face that she knew you weren’t going to like. “Because I think you’re pregnant.” her face unchanging as she pulled out the pregnancy test.

Then it hit you. 

No.No.No. Fuck!

Hands dancing.

Tongues twining.

Passion blooming.

It was everything you could have asked for when he was away but now that Sebastian was back, you couldn’t keep your hands off of him. You covered every area of the apartment possible.

Oh crap.

“Fuck!”

“Yes you did.” Josie laughed at her own joke, the reaction not quite the same on your end.

“Oh god, Sebastian is going to kill me. He’s never going to want to talk to me. Why was I so stupid? Oh, I’m never gonna hear from him again. I’ll be kicked out. I’ll be a single mother. I’m gonna have to live with you and if I have this baby, you’re gonna hate me, then you’re gonna kick me out too. ”

Josie scoffed at you, helping you scurf back your hair away from your face, making you look into her wide eyes. “First of all, chill. I gotchu, you know I gotchu forever. Sebastian isn’t like that, but if he is you will never see him again and that is a promise and maybe a little bit of a threat. He’ll deserve it if he hurts you so. Just be my alibi if anything ever happens. Just go take the test. Negative? You’re just sick. Positive? You call Sebastian and you talk to him like an adult.”

“Why are you always right? Don’t you ever get sick of it?” You huffed before you smiled at her, squeezing at her hand after taking the small handful of the pregnancy test boxes back to the bathroom.

Five minutes passed and you were holding the peed on sticks in your hand, four out of five of them being positive. “I think I need to call Sebastian, and a doctor.”

After making an appointment with the doctor, you took a deep breath and pressed the button to call Sebastian. He picks up the call pretty quickly and you are not surprised.

“Y/N! Finally! Are you okay? What happened?”

“Hey bubba. I’m fine, just a little sickness. But I really don’t like doing this over the phone. When are you coming home. We need to talk.”

Two months later.

It was the night of the premiere of Avengers: Endgame and you couldn’t be more thrilled for the success that the Marvel Franchise had. It was 10 years of absolute lovable craziness. Thank you, Stan Lee.

You had no idea that you would be here on the aptly coloured, purple carpet with Sebastian after all you would have thought that you would still be with him after the whole pregnancy fiasco but the two of you were able to talk things through. Things were thrown, voices were raised, and tears were shed but still after all of that, Sebastian made the executive decision to calm the two of you down. The stress was no good for anyone at this point. You were both going to be parents; it’s what was established.

The two of you walked hand in hand, palms sweating as the cameras flashed, and photographers called out to each and every star that was involved in the production of Endgame. The culmination of the whole franchise was just so surreal, the fact that it was ending with a bang both made you swell with pride but it also made you a tad emotional because this collection of amazing characters wouldn’t continue but the legacy they left would. And that was what mattered.

“Sebastian! Y/N! Over here!” You heard from one of the interviewers, looking beautiful in her outfit, Sebastian rubbed his thumb across your knuckles, you were going to be okay. He was right there with you and you had done this a few times before. He was there for you.

“Hi.” “Hello. You and Sebastian answered at the same time, making the interviewer laugh.

“Wait, I remember you. I bought you a soup in a thermos and Tom gave you his jacket. I see we got lucky with good weather today, huh?” You said, smiling at her.

“Yes. You remember me?!” The woman turned to the camera looking right into the lens of it. “Guys, I’m fangirling so hard right now. Ah!”

Once the woman got her fangirling out of the way, she moved onto the interview, trying to get any information that she could before the movie premiered. Sebastian took over that one, telling her that there was no way that they were allowed to say anything about the movie other than he was dust.

“Now we’ve got that movie non gossip out of the way. Are you okay to talk freely about your pregnancy?”

You looked to Sebastian, it was his decision just as much as it was yours, you knew that Sebastian wanted to keep his private life separate from his professional acting career. “It’s okay, honey. Go ahead.”

“I think you’re good to go.”

“Thank you. I must say that you do look stunning in that dress.” She gushed, you thanked her, hiding your face a little. You loved this dress, the nude under layer and the little white and purple flowers that scattered across your dress, your bump barely visible through your dress.

“How far along are you?”

“Well, we’re in the first week of the second trimester. So I’m a little more confident when telling you that.”

“That’s amazing. Was the pregnancy planned at all?”

You made a face, sucking in a little air, looking to Sebastian for a little light to be shed on the situation. “Not at all. It was Y/N’s friend that actually realised that her morning sickness wasn’t her having the flu. She felt absolutely awful that morning, it was enough to know that it was bad when I tried to call her and I didn’t get an answer.

“We had our issues, you know, we didn’t know what to do, we're new at this. But I think that it’s important to know that you don’t abandon your family.” Sebastian softly smiled at you, subconsciously putting a hand on your slowly growing stomach. “I guess that is what this franchise is about though, right? It’s about family and- and looking out for one another. Everybody’s got a somebody here and I love that.”

“And Thanos, fucks it all up and snaps his goddamn fingers.” The three of you and the cameraman began to laugh at your little outburst about the mad, purple titan. “God, I can’t wait for the premiere tonight but I’m scared. For everybody. But especially for me, you know, I’m an emotional person anyway, add a hormonal woman to the mix and a whole lot of angst. Get my ice cream and tissues ready, because I’m coming for you, Thanos.”

“I heard that!”

“Love you, Josh. For the record, Josh is a nice guy, the character he plays is a big old sack of balls and I have no idea how he does it so convincingly.” Lovingly, you made eyes at Seb. “But it’s just like my Sebastian, a dark hydra assassin but in reality he’s a big ball of sunshine and goofiness. And I love him for it.”

“This is- this is what gets me.” The interviewer leaned in a little as Sebastian’s voice dropped to a slight whisper. “I know that she is going to be the best mom for our child because Y/N loves everything and everyone and that is a great quality to have but she’s also caring and matches my goofy side but her sass outweighs mine of course, no one can beat that.”

“Aww, he’s making me cry already. Seb,” you whined. “My makeup.”

“Well that's it folks.” The woman spoke, telling the audience that this was one of the cutest interviews that she had ever taken, that she could die happy and quickly saying congratulations before the two of you were whisked away to walk the carpet again and pose for pictures.

“You’re way too good to me, you know that right?” You said to Seb as you admired the sky blue suit he was wearing over his plain white tee. “I never even got to tell them that this baby will have the hottest dad in the world as well as the sweetest man. Thank you for being my baby daddy.”

Unbeknownst to you, the cameras had caught every single moment the two of you shared. The kisses you shared together, were now shared with the world, all over social media. At this point you didn’t care, you only cared about the man in front of you and the baby growing in your stomach. And this god damn movie!

Feedback is gold and appreciated

[outofsstyles]

AU | Famous!Reader x Fashion student!Harry

☁️ FIC PAGE ☁️ PART 1 ☁️

word count: 20.3k

warnings: language

//

Sweet tea in the summer

Cross your heart, won't tell no other

And though I can't recall your face

I still got love for you

- Seven, Taylor Swift

//

“Can you bend your arms one last time, please?” Harry quickly angles his arms, holding them at chest height to show Marcus what he’s referring to.

He stands in front of Harry, dressed in his full Gaston outfit for the last fitting before opening night. The atelier has gone hectic again now that everyone’s gotten back from their lunch breaks, a mess of fabrics and papers taking over every surface in the room. There’s a low mesh of voices blending with Moyra’s playlist playing on a speaker that’s probably lost somewhere by now. Someone rushes across the room in a speed walk and almost bumps into Harry, muttering a quick apology before disappearing behind the doors leading to storage. 

As the week approached, Harry was warned by pretty much every single one of his coworkers about the chaos that it would be. After all, it’s the last week of rehearsals, and the first time the actors would get in characters with their full costumes. All arrangements have to be done by Saturday morning, is what Lisa said with her stern voice the previous Friday, with no space for wardrobe malfunctions. She meant it as a warning, but Harry took it as motivation, knowing he works better under stressful situations — which is not the healthiest working ethic, he admits, but it gets the job done.

On top of it all, your unprompted visit has surprisingly given him the boost he needed to finish up most of his work with an entire day to spare. 

It’s only been two days since you appeared on his front door with a Brit statuette and a promise to make up for the years lost in each other’s lives. Your suggestion to go out for a coffee quickly showed itself to be a bit more complicated than both of you thought it would; as neither of you expected the conflict in your schedules when making those plans. This was a busy week for Harry and an even busier opening weekend. The only time he’ll actually be able to catch a breather is by Monday, which, coincidentally, is the same day you’re catching a flight back to America.

Still, none of you seemed to want to wait another week to meet again. So he proposed to meet after his Friday shift. Which is why he spent the entirety of Thursday inside the costume studio, being the last one to leave just so he could wrap everything a few hours early to meet you back at his flat — by your request.

Even with a day cut short, however, there’s been barely enough time for him to focus on anything other than measurements and fittings. It’s a good thing when it comes to his nerves; the tight schedule giving him no space to let any butterfly drift on his belly. Without the anxiousness on the way and work to keep himself busy, it’s as if the clock has gone with a leap. He sewed back details that had fallen off an extra’s costume while swallowing back the salad he’d brought for lunch, made sure Lumiere’s candleholders were fixed in place, and that no feathers from Plumette would sweep around the stage. Now, after having to make an adjustment to Gaston’s shirt - thanks to an unexpected problem with the stitching - he’s finally able to allow his shoulders to relax a bit.

Marcus mimics the movement shown to him, keeping his arms still as Harry takes a step to examine the character’s signature red shirt with his fingers fiddling with the tip of the measuring tape hanging around his shoulders.

“Does it still feel tight around your chest?” Harry asks, noting how the stitching on the sides is not stretching anymore. “Or under your arms?”

“Nope,” Marcus answers with a pop, relaxing his arms back down when Harry turns to write something down. “Fits like a glove, mate.”

He clicks his pen down on the table. “Then we’re all good.” 

“So, I’m free to go?” He jumps down from the platform, loosening the black leather belt that’s fastened around his waist.

“You’re free to go,” Harry confirms after a double-check at the file sitting on the table, making sure there’s no other change that’s needed on his costume. “Just put everything back in the bag and hang it on the rack.”

“Yes, sir.” Marcus shifts with the curtains of the changing room before disappearing inside of it.

“And make sure the label is still stuck to it!” Harry calls over his shoulder, listening to the mumbled response before turning back to the files on his hands. 

While he waits for Marcus to return, he gathers everything he needs to leave. A quick look at his phone that was left forgotten on top of a roll of blue-dyed camel tells him it’s around four, meaning he’s just in time. Checking the pages he’s been focusing on, Harry walks to the rack, selecting the two bags carrying the costumes he still needs to make adjustments on, placing them carefully over his work table before making his way to fetch his backpack.

As soon as Marcus is out, he gives a double check to see if the label is still stuck to the bag he just hanged - not entirely trusting the cast’s attention to those details - before collecting his belongings and heading for the door. He bids his goodbyes on his way out, catching the attention of Alice, who’s standing on a platform near the door while Moyra works on the skirt of her yellow dress with a few pins placed between her lips.

“Going already, H?” She asks, her eyes big as she looks down at him.

He stops in his tracks with a hand on the door handle gnawing on his inner cheek as he turns to face her. 

As soon as he meets her gaze, he notices the subtle tinge of pink painting over her cheekbones. It’s something that Harry’s gotten used to by now when speaking with Alice. 

He could tell she was shy from the moment he got to meet the entire cast, always standing quietly to the side reading her script, keeping her chats restricted to the same two people (which is funny enough of a contrast with her stage persona, considering she has the main role). But with Harry, she’s always been especially timid, and it didn’t take too long for him to learn from Moyra that the girl had taken a fancy on him — if the blushing wasn’t a big indicator.

It’s sweet, he reckons. She’s lovely enough, from the limited amount of conversations they had, and Harry finds it that maybe if she opened up a bit it would be nice to get to know her. Julia’s the one that always pesters him about it, though urging for Harry to make a move from the moment he told her about the girl’s crush on him. She says his romantic side gets especially annoying when he’s lonely, and he knows she’s right, but would never admit it to her face. So he just brushes it off, saying he’ll take the time to talk to Alice.

Except now. Harry knows he’s on the clock if he wants to make it in time to meet you. The last thing he wants is for you to have to stand on the street because he got caught up in her mutters. 

So he keeps his grip on the handle, hoping it’s enough of a hint for the conversation to be cut short, as he motions his arm that holds the clothes’ bags at the crook of his elbow. “Yeah, I- Lisa let me work on these at home.”

“So you’re not having a drink with us tonight?” Alice rushes out, eyes darting up at him, and her blush gets a shade stronger. When her lips part again, her voice comes out a bit lower,  “It’s the last one before opening night, and you haven’t gone in a while...”

“Harry’s too cool to hang out with us.” Moyra barges in the conversation, glancing teasingly at Harry from over her shoulder as she takes the last pin from between her lips.

“Shut up, Mo.” He rolls her eyes slightly, grip tightening on the door as he prepares to leave.

Before he can do so, Alice speaks up, her eyes falling again to her fingers that poke at her nails. “You know, bringing work home sometimes can cause stress… And stuff.” She peeks up at Harry, shrugging slightly. “I read about it somewhere, anyway.”

“I think I’ll be fine, really, but thanks.” Turning the knob, he cracks open the door.  “Just got something today.”

Moyra doesn’t waste a second before blurting, “A date.”

“Don’t.” He warns with a sigh. “I’m seeing an old friend.”

“That’s nice.” Alice nods.

“Yeah.” He takes a step out, being painfully aware of how he’s a second away from being late. “Uhm, I gotta get going then.”

The girl looks up at him fully then, giving a small wave. “See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, yeah, for sure.” He calls over his shoulder as he’s out the door.

The tube’s just starting to get filled again with people like Harry, who are likely on their journey back home. Shoulders tense and frowns scrunching their faces, they barely pay any mind to him as he finds a spot opposite to the exit doors — preferring to stay closer to them as to get off quicker. He leans against one of the many metal rails that outline the inside of the train car, his vans bouncing nervously as he adjusts the bags at the crook of his elbow, feeling as if today it’s traveling slower than usual. 

Picking up his phone to check the time once again, he’s met with a text. It’s not from you, as he’d hoped, but from Julia. A picture of her and Blake, faces squished together as they force a smile a bit too big for the camera, their hairs meshing together in a mix - Julia’s darker curls tangling with Blake’s shorter blonde locks - and Harry can just about make out the outline of a bright orange sofa from Blake’s living room behind them. The message that reads under it is short, yet playfully demanding.

Juls: impromptu movie night!!! bring chocolate!!!

He smiles down at the screen, but it quickly turns into a frown as he realizes that he won’t be able to make it. Biting down his bottom lip, his thumb hovers above the keyboard, not sure how to respond. There’s not a chance he can fully tell the truth to her, not over text. Even if he brushes over it, he knows his friend, and how nosy she can be sometimes — which has never bothered him before until he found himself in this position. He contemplates lying. A white one, there is. Just say he got caught up with work or something along those lies. Something he knows she’d understand. But the simple thought of it makes him feel guilty; as if he’s leaving her out.

So, he opts for the ladder, pushing the responsibility for his future self to deal with the interrogation afterwards when he sees her again. Maybe if he finishes the tv show she’s been nagging him to watch in time, it’ll be enough of a distraction so she won’t ask him many questions. His answer comes a bit slower than usual — not only due to his internal battle but also for finding it a bit tricky to type with one hand. By the time he clicks the send button, Julia has already sent enough interrogation points to cover half of the screen.

Can’t tonighttt got something...

Juls: what’s something

I’ll tell you later, send Blake a hug for me.

Juls: no :(

With a chuckle, he pockets his phone,  noticing he’s just a couple of steps away from his own. Once he’s out of the station, just a couple blocks away from his building, the bundle of nerves he’s been avoiding all day sweeps in. They’re not overwhelming, they don’t make his chest tighten or his palms sweat, no. They’re the nerves that give him a spring to his step, that make him take deeper breaths, and that speed his heart just the tiniest bit.

It’s a strange feeling to be going home with the sky still shining a clear blue, instead of the purple-pink that comes just before the sun hugs the horizon. A cloudless day. Thanks to the previous streak of rainfalls that washed away the angry greys. The colors painting his surroundings seem somehow more vibrant, more welcoming. The greens of the trees greet him with a gentle breeze. The maroons of the bricked buildings warm under the sunlight. Even the yellow and the pink of his dirty vans feel a bit brighter as he strolls around the corner of his block.

It’s almost like it matches the way he feels. And Harry knows that from now on, with spring at its peak and summer becoming more present, the weather is bound to become even more pleasant. He hopes it’s some sort of sign. Maybe the universe is getting gentler with him. He’d like to think that.

Part of him still dwells on the feeling the slightest bit, finding a strange sort of uncertainty over how quickly you’ve got at the palm of your hand again. He barely got any sleep after you left his house just thinking about it, actually. There’s no denying that your presence again has brought back the fondest memories of his teenage years. Ones he tried too hard to bury as to ease the ache in his heart that came with them for a long time. But now, having you back, it’s as if they’ve taken almost a hopeful feeling. The reminders of how close you used to be came crashing into him like a wave, enveloping him. That was the first time he ever opened up so fully to someone, after all. And that comfort of having someone that knows him better than he knows himself is something he craves so deeply within himself that, as soon as even the slimmest possibility of having it once again presented itself, he grasped it so quickly that now he’s afraid he’s letting himself dive too deep.

He’s so inside of his head, thoughts rushing inside his mind, that he almost glances over you when he finally approaches his building. 

Paying little to no mind to your cream trousers as you kneel on the sidewalk, a paper bag propped under your arm and a disposable cup holder in your hand hugging two paper cups, you focus on a collie that’s enjoying your hand caressing the fur down its neck. A gold pendant from your necklace reflects the weak rays of sunlight, glowing in a contrast with the black of the short-sleeved turtleneck you’re wearing, tucked under your trousers. 

It’s only when he lets his eyes focus on the company you have that he immediately recognizes the pup, as well as the older lady holding the leash while smiling down at you interacting with her pet.  

Margaret is one of the oldest residents of the building, taking a permanent spot at the very first apartment on the first floor. She was the first neighbor he got to meet, bringing him homemade jelly tarts on his first weekend at his apartment. They chatted for an afternoon and, after admitting he’s not the best cook, she vowed to bring him some of her dishes every time she could. And true to her world, around twice a week she knocks on his door with a warm trail and a sweet smile. Harry likes to visit her as often as he can, knowing she lost her husband a few years before he moved, and has no children to keep her company — that is, apart from her collie, Duchess.

“Harry!” Margaret is the first to acknowledge him with a grin, her voice causing your head to snap up from where you kneel. “You’re early today, my love.”

“Actually, I’m a bit late.” He chuckles, glancing at where you’re standing up while sweeping your trousers. “Sorry about that.”

“Oh! No worries, I just got here.” You brush it off, finding a place next to him before gazing back at Margaret. The older lady attempts to look discreetly between the two of you, brows arched, and Harry knows from the look in her eyes he’ll probably have to face another interrogation later on. Though, in this case, he’s sure she’s oblivious of your public image. “And, thankfully, I bumped into these lovely ladies who kept me company.”

“Stop that! You’re a very lovely lady yourself, darling.” Margaret reaches for Harry’s wrist as she smiles at you, giving it a squeeze, and he quickly nods, agreeing with her. She looks up at him, lips tight in a grin that’s enough for him to realize her assumptions about why you’re here, and, from the way you’re holding back a laugh yourself, he’s sure you’ve noticed, too. He clears his throat, gazing down at his shoes, trying to cover up the warmth that creeps up his neck, and that seems to be enough for Margaret to take a hint, letting his wrist go with another gentle squeeze. “I’ll leave you two be, Duchess and I still have to grab groceries before it gets dark.”

Harry scratches his nose in a nervous tick. “‘Ave a good day, Marg.”

“You too, Lovie.” She gives his hip a soft pinch before turning to you. “It was lovely meeting you.”

“Right back at you!” You answer excitedly, waving back as the older lady starts her stroll. “Have a nice walk! Bye, Duchess.”

For a second, you quietly watch the duo walk further away from where you stand. A faint hum of car engines can be heard, being cut only by the high-pitched voices of two children, seeming not much older than ten, as they appear at the other side of the street. The peek over your shoulder is quick before you turn your back to them, turning fully to Harry with a slight smile tugging at the side of your lips. 

He clears his throat again, adjusting the bags he’s still holding. “Hi.” 

“Hey.” You answer in a beat, nodding towards him. “Your hair is down.”

“It is, yeah.” His voice comes lower than he intended, the warmth still present on his cheeks, and he quickly motions towards the front door. While fiddling with the side pocket of his backpack in search of his keys, he picks up as you lean into the bricked wall next to the entrance.

“It looks great, really! Wasn’t expecting it to be this long.”

“Yea, I- Thanks.” He shoots you a look once he fetches the keys. “Have been growing it out for a few months now.”

You give him a knowing hum. “Any reason for it?”

The click of your boots against the wooden steps echoes around the narrow walls of the building’s staircase. Harry leads the way up, climbing the steps in a bit of an awkward position as he tries to look back at you.“Uh, not really, no.”  He shrugs. “Just having fun with it, I guess.”

“That’s how it’s supposed to be!” You exclaim. “It really compliments you, I mean it.”

“Thank you.” He rubs his nose, coming to a stop as both of you reach his front door. “You- Uh, I- You look very nice, as well.”

“Oh!” You look down at your outfit with a chuckle. “I rarely go around this fancy, but I had a meeting today.” You brush it off. “Which is also not an excuse for me to dress up but I didn’t know most people there so I had to make a good impression, or whatever.”

A dimple pokes at his cheek as you ramble, a habit you seem to haven’t lost. He unlocks the door with ease, pushing it in and motioning for you to walk in. “‘S nice, very pretty, I- I mean, your trousers are very pretty.”

Your smile grows as you support yourself on the wall while toeing off your shoes. If you notice the blush on his cheeks, you don’t mention it. “Thank you! Means a lot coming from you, you know?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, you’re the fashion student, after all.” He’s not sure why your answer comes in a bit of a letdown, almost as if he was expecting you to say something else. “By the way, I got us some goodies on the way. Didn’t know how you like your coffee, so I just took a wild guess. Here, try it— If you don’t like it you can have mine, it’s a cappuccino, very sweet.” You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, watching for his reaction as he sips on the hot beverage. “So...?”

“It’s perfect.” He takes another small sip of the cup you handed to him, trying not to make a face at the slightly bitter taste that comes with it (he’s still not the biggest coffee fan, if he’s honest). He makes his way to lay the bags that now have slid down his elbow at the arm of the couch. Noticing you’re still standing awkwardly by the front door looking around, he points at the counter next to him, quickly sweeping his arm over it to brush the stack of papers to the side.  “You can set everything in here, please feel at home.”

This is the first time you properly get to have a look around his place, which is weird enough of a concept when you take into consideration it’s not the first time you’ve come here (and the flash memory of that night alone is enough for you to fight back a cringe). You recall the path to your right leading towards the bathroom where you spent an hour sitting inside his bathtub before having to answer a not-very-pleased Sonia calling your phone. The rest of the place, however, is a bit of a blur in your memory, so you take this moment to take in his home.

Surely, the space itself is quite modest, but it doesn’t mean there’s not a lot to take in. From your position across from him, the island separating the two of you, you can still scan most of his living room. 

You like that it’s not completely tidy (those sorts of crystal clean homes always freak you out a bit). Upon a first glance, it’s clearly the residence of an undergrad. A couple textbooks pile on top of a center table. A shut laptop sitting next to the cushions on the navy blue couch. Even a few houseplants amongst picture frames spread on shelves and stands. It’s cute, you think, but you barely sweep your eyes over those details.

What calls your attention are the glimpses of the life you’ve missed on. It’s the magazines decorated with sticky notes. It’s the rolls of fabric peeking out from the couch arm. It’s a box of yarn tucked in the far corner, on top of other boxes that are shut closed. Those details seem to have replaced his canvases and paint sets. It makes you wonder if he still keeps them hidden somewhere. If there’s still anything left of the life he had the last time you saw him. 

Oddly enough, you smile at the thought. Somehow glad that he found his passion, even if you weren’t there to support him through it. And it brings you back to why you’re here in the first place. Make up for the lost time.

“Thank you for agreeing to do this here.” You speak up as you focus back on taking the sweets you so carefully picked out from inside the bag (you weren’t entirely sure of his dessert preferences now, which caused the slightest rise of panic as you tried to decide on what to pick from the vast array of options). “I know it’s weird to ask you to, like, have me at your house instead of just meeting at a cafe, but the one I usually go to is closed for renovations and I get a bit wary at, uh, public places.”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind having you here.” A small grin tugs at his lips, and it’s hard for you to ignore the warmth that comes to you with it. 

You clap your hands together, gazing around quickly before focusing back on him. “So! I finally get to properly see your place— sorry about that the other night, by the way, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He chuckles. “It’s really okay, like I said, don’t mind having you here.” He repeats, clearing his throat. “It’s, uh, not that big but-”

“I love it, seems so cozy.” You interrupt before he can go on any further, hating the way he feels the need to apologize to you for something like the size of his home. “And it’s a perfect place to have just for yourself.”

“Actually, I-” His lips stay apart for half a second before he continues, blurting the next words out as if it’s a confession, “I have a flatmate.”

“Oh!” You blink in surprise, taking a second to process the information. 

Of course he does. Why did you even think otherwise? Most people share flats these days. Despite that, the possibility of him living with someone didn’t even cross your mind. It’s hard to ignore when it comes to you the riskiness of it. Whoever this flatmate is, you don’t know them, and the possibility of them spilling anything makes you a tad uneasy. It could easily ruin any possibility of a friendship with Harry before you can even get close to him again. 

There’s a wave of anxiety that hits you with the prospect of being the cause of his face printed on the cover of money-hungry tabloids, but, before you get deeper in your own nerves than you already have, you sum what’s left of composure within you to ask,  “Do they... Have you told them about-- well, me?”

He tears up a piece of banana bread, picking at it as he shakes his head, clearly unaware of your change in moods. “Not, really. She’s at her girlfriend’s for the week, so I haven’t been able to see her.”

You try to hide the way your eyes widen the slightest bit with the information that said flatmate is a she. “Is she a fashion student as well?”

“No, she’s a journalist. She works— well, interns for a music magazine, actually.”

Of course she’s a fucking journalist. When you think it couldn’t get any worse. “Anything that would ring a bell?”

“I don’t think so, they’re quite small.” He shrugs, sipping at his coffee.  “Don’t even have an office, they do most of the work online.”

“That’s interesting.” You nod, nails picking at a few crumbs dotted around the counter. Scrunching your lips, you try to consider how to word what you’re about to say. Knowing this conversation would have to be brought up eventually doesn’t make it any less awkward for you to have it. You peek up at him from under your lashes, only to find his oblivious state as he smiles back at you. “Harry… Can I ask you for a favour?” 

“Course.”

Inhaling deeply, you attempt not to let your voice come out as calculated as the words that roll out of your lips are. “Could you… Just for a bit, not mention anything about me to her?”

Harry’s expression falls to a frown. “What do you mean?”

“Just--” You pause, resting your cup down before turning to face him fully. “Just for a little while, I-- You have to understand that I would like to be a bit more private… About us?”

“Us?”

“Our friendship… I-” There it is again, the gust of panic. It makes you spit out the words before you can even process them,  “I wouldn’t want any headlines.” 

This only seems to worsen everything it seems, as Harry sits back on his stool, putting more space between you two. He shakes his head, “Julia would never do that.”

“I’m sure she wouldn't!” You rush, attempting to fix it. “It’s just… She could mention it to someone, and-- I don’t know, these things get out of hand really fast.” 

“So you want me to lie to her?”

“Not lie.” You chew at your bottom lip, sure that you’re a word away from getting kicked out. “Just, not to mention it… Just for a little while, it’s not like it can be a secret forever.”

“Right.” He slowly starts to nod, falling quiet for a beat too long. “Sure, yeah, okay.”

You exhale in relief, softening your expression. “Thank you.”

A silence falls between the two of you and, for the first time since your reconnection, it’s not much of a comfortable one. You have to swallow back the guilt that threatens to take over, knowing the awkwardness is mainly your fault for dealing with your request in such an awful way. Of course, you would have to have the privacy talk with Harry eventually, ideally being sooner rather than later. But asking him to lie and insinuating that his friend could use you to sell her magazine is most certainly the worst way you could’ve chosen to go about it. And there’s nothing to stop yourself from feeling completely stupid while picking at the brownie in front of you.

There’s a part of you, one that comes a bit louder now, that ponders if even bother continuing this in the first place; if it wouldn’t be better to spare him the burden that the simple association with you will bring into his life. You know it would be easier, better for him even, if you just collect your stuff now and walk out the door to never contact him again. If you excused this meeting as a lapse of rationality on your part. And just like that, you could let him go on with his regular life, having to come to terms with him painting a picture of you as another arrogant celebrity that just toyed with him for a bit before she got bored. It would hurt, sure, but this part of you tries to reason that it’s the best you could do for him.

Another part, though, a more selfish one that is, can’t bear the thought of standing up from your stool and just simply turn your back to this as if it never happened. No, you can’t bring yourself to do that. Not when meeting Harry again has brought you a sense of comfort you hadn’t even realized you’ve been lacking for months now. Not when he feels like the only person who doesn’t have an image of you shadowed by this big bright monster of fame — one that calls everyone’s attention before they can even take a proper look at you. You know he doesn’t need that, because of all the versions you present of yourself, he’s one of the few people that know which is the real one. 

This part of you makes you act thoughtlessly, letting your emotions speak louder than your brain. It makes you want to follow the immediate sense of relief that comes in knowing there’s no need to change anything to fit an imaginary narrative someone has made of you. There’s no need to do that with Harry. You’re so desperate to keep that ease that comes with being in his presence, that any thought of how it’ll eventually come crashing down on you is pushed to the back of your mind.

Worrying your lip between your teeth, you risk a glance up at him. To your relief, there’s not a crease between his brows like you expected. He doesn’t seem upset about your question anymore, his shoulders relaxed while he focuses on tearing a piece of the banana bread and shoving it into his mouth. The realization makes you straighten your posture, a sudden rush of determination flushing through your body. You’ve come here to get to know him again, and you’re not letting a poor start weigh you down. And, as your gaze falls to the costume bags lying across the couch arm behind him, an inquiry that has been floating through your mind comes back to you.

“So…” You clear your throat, leaning your elbow to rest on top of the counter as you rest your chin on your palm. Harry’s eyes shoot up at you, and you grin a bit as you point to the spot behind him. “Are you going to tell me a bit about that?”

His brows frown for a second as he looks back, finding the bags that called your attention from the moment you saw him on the sidewalk.  “What would you like to know?”

“Well, last time we spoke you were talking about working in a gallery.” You circle your cup in your hand, bringing it up to your lips but not yet taking a sip.  “And now, I have the information that you dropped out just a wee after; how did that happen?”

"It took a while for it to happen, actually.”  He crosses his arms on top of the counter, leaning in slightly. “Dunno if you remember but, uhm… This might be a bit awkward.”

Your brows raise towards your hairline, his words only enhancing your curiosity. “It’s okay, whatever you feel comfortable sharing.”

“I don’t mind it, just- well, after we broke up,” He starts, clearing his throat as his gaze searches for yours, eyes flickering between your own in search of a reaction. He was right. This is awkward. You try to remain a calm expression, nodding in encouragement for him to continue — although you want nothing more than to flinch at the words. “I was, uh, well, sad.” He lets out a quick chuckle. “A friend of mine- James, dunno if you remember them- they recommended a knitting group class kinda thing that they were in every Wednesday, told me it was quite therapeutic and calming, and stuff.”

“That’s cute.” You comment, trying to brush off the way your chest tightens at the brief mention of his feelings post-breakup, knowing how hard it was for both of you.

He smiles at you before continuing, “Got the hang of it pretty fast, actually. James was right being therapeutic. After a bit, I started going twice a week.” He reaches to brush his fingers over a napkin. You watch as his fingertips slide gently along its edge. “The lady that taught it, Laura- you’d ‘ve loved her, used to bake us biscuits every week. She had graduated in fashion, actually owned a boutique for a good fifty years.”

“Holy shit,” Your lips part in awe. “Can you imagine doing something for that long?”

“‘S exactly what got me thinking.” He peeks up at you, lips twitching up. “Around that time I was so confused about what to do with an art degree, and I realized it wasn’t really something I saw myself doing for decades on end.” 

Understanding, you give him a warm smile, toying with the lid of your cup as to not reach for his hand. Even though you weren’t around anymore at the time the events he’s describing took place, you still remember how confused he was right from the start. Harry’s always had an artist in him, and that’s something that wasn’t hard for anyone to see, but it was clear then how he wasn’t completely satisfied with his path. Back then, before you two parted ways, you recall thinking he was still adjusting with uni, and that eventually, he’d find his passion within the arts. It never occurred to you he might not be in the field he loved, after all. 

Looking back at it now, it makes sense.

“Laura helped me a lot during that time. She was the one that even introduced fashion as a possibility for me, we would talk for hours.” It’s hard to miss the fond smile that tugs his lips at the memory. “She even started inviting me for a cuppa outside of class hours, answer all my questions- even the stupid ones, she was really patient. Was almost like a mentor of sorts.” 

“She sounds like an awesome human.” Your voice is gentle, admiring how the words come out of him with an admiration that makes you warm all over.

“She was.” His eyes fall to his hands. Your expression softens, suddenly noticing how he’s been using the past tense when talking about her. “She told me once that sometimes making a career out of a hobby is not always the way to go, you know? Takes away the fun of it if you feel obligated to do it. It was then when I decided to switch.”

“Were you scared?” 

“Terrified.” You two laugh. “I was choosing a path that I’d never even considered before. It was so new, I was so scared I wasn’t making the right decision. It scared me that maybe fashion wasn’t also my thing, you know? Cause if it wasn’t, then what?”

“I get that.” You risk resting your hand next to his, sticking your pinky out to brush against his. He quickly interlaced them, smiling down at the gesture. “I’m glad it worked out, and you found something you’re passionate about.”

“Me too.” He replies, mimicking your position as he brings the hand that’s not enlaced with yours to rest under his cheek.

You smile, and he smiles, too.  

//

“Why can’t we just stay in tonight?”

The question leaves your lips in almost an annoyed huff. The third one in the last five minutes. Aya doesn’t spare you a glance this time, her eyes focusing solely on sweeping the white eyeliner over her eyelid as she finishes the last few touches of her makeup.

Her apartment is lit up with a golden glow, the lights having been lowered and the flame of a couple of green lavender candles helping set the relaxing energy of the room. It’s the primary reason you love staying at Aya’s; her place is always cozy, no matter which house of hers you’re in (even though you have a softer spot for her New York apartment). And it helps to have company, since your place has been uneasily empty lately. 

The original plan was simple: make dinner while catching up with the last Game of Thrones season. You’ve been looking forward to it all week. After days of hopping from long meetings to recording sessions, only to go home to your cold bed, reuniting with Aya was the one thing that kept you from catching the first flight back to London as soon as your errands were dealt with. So, it’s hard not to express your disappointment about having to attend some dinner party a good thirty minutes away from her warm apartment.

The thing is, the suggestion didn’t even come from Aya, but rather a surprise guest you weren’t even expecting to be here at the same time as you, Claire. 

And it’s not like you don’t like Claire, you do, well, you try to, which is the best you can do for now. She's been friends with Aya for a couple of months and, with Aya, it’s not that hard to become friends with her, if you’re honest. So you never really bother to keep track of the ones that come and go as quick as the pendulum of a clock. It’s something you’ve grown used to with the years of friendship. But unlike most of them, Claire seems to have stuck like an annoying piece of gum at the bottom of your boots.

In reality, you know it’s unfair to her to be annoyed when she’s really done nothing wrong. The sole reason for you two not mashing that well is more of a conflict in personalities than anything else. Usually, you manage to ignore that in order to keep at least somewhat of a friendly relationship with her during nights out -- more for Aya’s sake than yours. And sometimes you even enjoy her presence! When she’s not surrounded by big groups of people  (rare) and doesn’t feel the need to be obnoxiously loud for no reason, at those times when it’s just the three of you, she’s actually quite nice to talk to.

But now, you honestly wish you could glue her lips together and quite literally kick her out the front door. As she rushes around the place, - from the walk-in closet to the bathroom to the bedroom and so on - her voice so loud in attempts to speak over the playlist she put on just over two hours ago. The mesh of noises is so much you’d be sure no one heard your complaint if it wasn’t for Aya’s reply just a minute later.

“We stay in every day.” You watch as she bends over the sink, getting closer to the mirrored wall as she applies her lipstick carefully. With a smack of her lips, her eyes meet yours in the reflection. “I think it’d be good for you to go out.”

“Just two months ago you were complaining about how much I go out, and now you complain that I don’t go out enough?” You arch your brows, fully aware of how whiny you sound.

“Well, not my fault you don’t know how to balance your social life.” She focuses back on herself, opening a product you can’t make out what it is and tapping it against her cheekbones. “It’s either going out every single day to the point of no sleep or becoming a hermit inside your house.”

You pout. “I’m working, you know tha-”

“It’s cause she only goes out with her LA friends now, Meme.” Claire blurts out as she appears from inside the closet, holding one of Aya’s transparent coats. You keep a straight face as you turn to look at her, trying not to cringe with her nickname for Aya. She seems oblivious of your annoyance, though, making her way to lean on the archway leading to where Aya’s finishing getting ready. “Now it’s all about Dora and - what’s his name?”

Aya interrupts before you have the chance to bite back, “It’s not even that, C, think she’s found something more interesting keeping her in London.” 

The smirk she shoots you from over her shoulder makes you avert your eyes, a blush creeping up your neck, warming all the way to the tip of your ears. The knowing look on her face could almost make you entirely flustered, as if she knows exactly the reason you’ve been so comfortable staying in London by yourself — especially now that the sole thought of being alone sends a tight grip to your chest. But you know there’s no reason for you to be nervous about it. You haven’t told a single person about your reconnection with Harry yet, somehow feeling an odd sort of protectiveness over it. And you’re not sure why this new flame of happiness still feels so fragile to you, so delicate, that a simple, outspoken word to the wrong person could take it away from you. 

And oh, how scared you are of it being taken away as quickly as it came to you.

So you’ve kept it within your grasp for as long as you can. Away from prying eyes and greedy hands. It’s the one thing that you have now that feels just yours, the one part of you that no one else knows about. That’s the sole reason you even asked him to keep it a secret in the first place.

Still, that doesn’t mean that people around haven’t noticed the sudden change in you — as small as you thought it was, it surely didn’t go unnoticed by those that know you so well. Sonia was the first to mention it. When you couldn’t keep yourself from checking your phone every five minutes during a studio session, she had teased you about it. You brushed it off, and she made no more comments about it, thankfully. But you didn’t miss the looks she gave you every time you excused yourself to make a phone call.

With Aya, though, you know it won’t be as easy to get her to disregard your behavior. You hoped she hadn’t caught on when earlier in the afternoon she nudged you about being all smiley while reading a text (Harry had just sent you a picture of Duchess wearing a knitted vest he’d made for her and you had it open when Aya peeked from over your shoulder to see what you were looking at, so you just said it was a message from your sister before quickly locking the screen). 

However, after her comment, you’re sure she’s clearly aware that something’s up. And, knowing Aya, you’re aware she won’t drop this subject until you tell her exactly what it is that’s keeping you in London. Before she has the chance to poke further, you’re saved by none other than Claire, who did not pick up on Aya’s grin shot towards you. Barely registering the meaning behind her words at all, actually, as she makes her way to sit at the foot of the bed. “Well, whatever it is, I think I might have something to keep you here with us.”

Thankfully, Aya drops the subject, only widening her eyes slightly at you, almost in a warning at what’s coming. “Here it comes.”

You frown, glancing from your friend that stands opposite you to the girl that’s scooping closer to where your legs rest. “What do you mean?”

“I know you’re still having a hard time after Noah.” The words spill from her lips and you almost choke on your own saliva at her bluntness. There was a sort of silent agreement between you and Aya about not mentioning your ex by name. So hearing it being outspoken without expecting it surely comes in a bit of a shock. But Claire still seems oblivious of it, only reaching to grip right under your knee in what’s supposed to be a reassuring gesture, you guess. “But it’s been so long now! Maybe you need a little push with, like, getting over him.”

“A push.” It’s hard to keep the affronting expression that tugs down your lips.

“Someone.” A squeeze to your knee. You want to push it off. “There’s this guy-”

That’s it. You close your eyes with a deep breath. “Claire-”

“Before you say no, listen to me!” She holds out her hands, in a habit of gesturing her words when she explains herself. “There’s this guy, okay? He works with my brother at NYT and I met him a couple of times, and- Just listen! The whole time we were talking, I could only think of you! I was like ‘oh my god, she’s gonna love him’ cause he’s totally your type!”

You scoff, glancing over at Aya who’s clearly trying to keep herself occupied. “Is this why you’re dragging me out tonight?”

Her deer-in-the-headlights eyes meet yours in the reflection. “Hey, I have nothing to do with Mr. Perfect here. As I said, I just think it’d be good for you to go out.”

“Just meet him, okay? You don’t have to go out on a date or anything just-” Claire brings your attention back to herself. “Just talk for a bit, see if you click. I think it’ll be good.” Her voice gets softer, shoulder dropping. “I’m just trying to help.”

There’s not an ounce of you that wants to engage in any sort of small-talk filled conversation, having close to no patience in getting to know someone new at this moment of your life. The prospect of having to sit and pretend whatever this man is going to tell you about himself interests you for god knows how long is enough to make you want to swim all the way back to England in your stilettos. But it’s clear that Claire’s intentions with this are far from malicious in any way, and you can’t help but feel bad for lashing out at her. So you just sigh, letting the words fall from your lips before you think about it enough to regret them,  “Okay.”

Her face lights up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll chat with him.”

She squeals. “You’ll love him! I’m telling you-”

“Claire,” You interrupt before she can get ahead of herself. “You sound like you’re envisioning a wedding already. I agreed to chat. That's it.”

“Chat. Okay, it’s a start.” She nods, a smile too big for her face before squealing again, throwing a look over her shoulder. “Right, Meme? Don’t you think it’ll be good for her?”

“Please, I’m just the audience in this conversation.” She calls back, turning to face you after a second to motion to the coat sitting on Claire’s lap. “Is this the coat you chose?”

Claire jumps from her spot in the bed at the mention of it. “Yes! What do you think? Wait- I’ll try it on, see if you can still notice the pink details on my dress.”

The girl bolts towards the walk-in closet where there are larger mirrors she can see herself better on and, just as she turns her back, Aya shoots you a wink before following her. 

You relax back into the arrangement of pillows, another sigh leaving your lips as it comes to you what you’ve just agreed on. Sometimes you wish you weren’t so easily persuaded by a pair of puppy eyes, knowing the consequences of it almost always have to do with you doing something you’re not too comfortable with. Your eyes shut close and you have to refrain from rubbing your face as not to ruin the makeup Aya applied so carefully. The night has barely started and you already feel exhausted mentally. Not wanting to dwell on it further, you make a mental note to yourself: learn how to say no.

Turning your face, you pick up the phone that was left forgotten next to you during the chat with Claire. To your surprise, the screen lights up showing a text from Harry received just about five minutes ago. You try not to sit up too suddenly, as not to call attention to yourself, while you swipe your thumb over the screen to open the message. 

A smile tugs on your lips before you can even read what it says, simply reacting to the picture attached to it. The first thing you notice is his hair, poking out of his head in a messy mesh resembling somewhat of a mane. You bite back a giggle at the thought. His face is lit up, mouth parted in an open smile as he gives a thumb up to the camera. You take a moment too long looking at his face until you realize what the picture is meant to show. You. Next to him, on the screen of his telly, grinning with the blue sunglasses you wore to the music video shoot.

The text under it is short, but it causes the most beautiful flowers to bloom under your chest.

H: Found this cutie while browsing todayy

H: Looks familiar? ;)

//

“That’s definitely too much.”

You glanced back at Harry as your eyebrows shot towards your hairline, challenging. His own face mimicked your expression, peeking down at the cup of flour in your hands before meeting your eyes again. With his locks being pulled up with your hair tie, it’s hard to take him seriously after you’d teased him about resembling a sprout when he first walked into the kitchen, ignoring his protests to playfully sweep the tiny bouquet of curls with your finger.

“How many times do I have to tell you, this is the exact amount?” You replied, trying to keep a straight face.

“How do you know? You’re not even measuring it!”

“It’s a muffin, Harry, how difficult can it be?” You rolled your eyes in feign annoyance, turning the cup into the mixing bowl before he could protest it. “I can do it by eye just fine.”

“This is chaotic.” He scrunched his nose, shaking his head in disbelief at the cloud of flour that floated through the air at how abruptly you threw it. “Making a bloody mess, you are.”

“Yeah, yeah, now tell me what’s next.”

He exhaled a chuckle, secretly enjoying your antics, before turning to check the open recipe book that sat on the counter. His finger followed the words written in instructions, and you observed with amusement the crease forming on his face as he attempted to decipher your nan’s handwriting. It took him a second before he clicked his tongue, “We should’ve mixed the wet ingredients first.”

“Does it make a difference?” You bit back a smile, knowing your words would get a reaction out of him.

And, as you predicted, Harry’s face turned into an appalled expression. “Does it make a difference?” He repeated your question, astounded. “Of course it makes a difference!”

You giggled, reaching for the milk carton. “I’m sure the muffins will be fine if I put in the milk after the flour, they won’t even notice.”

“Christ,” He shook his head again, a few curls falling loose against his forehead with the motion. “Baking with you is going to make me go gray by the time I reach my twenties.”

This time you let out a full laugh, mouth falling open in fake offense. “You’re so dramatic!”

Harry smiled, then, both dimples poking deeply into his cheeks as he reached to take the carton from your hands. You two finished mixing the batter, taking a bit too long to get it inside the oven as you enjoyed pestering Harry in the process a bit too much. Every so often someone walked into the kitchen to pick up some drinks or leave dirty dishes by the sink, checking in on the both of you with that smile adults always give you when you’re with Harry (usually followed by some corny joke about young love that made you roll your eyes).

It was the day of one of the barbecue parties your parents always threw at the beginning of summer break. They would invite their closest circle of friends to spend the day in your back garden, usually followed by a ‘luau’ (as your dad called it, even though it was definitely not a luau) once your parents got tipsy enough to bring out the guitars and light up a fire. 

When everyone was a tad lethargic from lunch, relaxing back into their chairs as the sun felt hotter as it shone proudly on the cloudless sky, you had the idea of baking your nan’s recipe of blueberry muffins.

Usually, the tradition of baking a dessert to be freshly served in the afternoon was left to your mum and sister -- who was almost passing the age in which she wanted to have a hand in everything to call attention to herself. But you were faster this time, volunteering to do the task, and dragging Harry with you, as you were eager to have some time alone with him without having someone interrupting to ask him yet another football question that left you bored out of your mind.

So, you take advantage of having the kitchen to yourselves, bumping your hips against his as you two swept the counter quietly, cleaning the mess you’d made earlier. Your aunt had just left the kitchen after making one of those comments regarding marriage that are meant solely to embarrass both of you, and a faint blush was still visible on his cheeks. It made you want nothing more than to reach up and press your lips to them, only to feel the spot of his dimple deepening with a smile.

The air was smelling sweeter when you threw the dirty cloth inside the sink, leaning back into the island as you watched Harry crouch to peek inside the oven. You couldn’t help the grin as you noticed the muffins spilling out of their cases as expected. 

“Told you it would work out.”

“I don’t know how you do it.” He stood, resting a hand on the counter next to you, leaning into it. “Do absolutely everything wrong but still manage to make it work.”

“Hey!” You giggled, pushing him softly with your hand as you dragged out the word. “I did absolutely everything right just… In my own way.”

“Yeah?” His finger twirled on the hook of your jeans, pulling at it as he moved to stand in front of you, keeping a hand resting on the counter next to your waist. “The world bends its rules for you, it seems.” Pressing a peck at the corner of your mouth, he mumbled, lips close enough that you could feel every word caressing your skin, “Don’t blame it, though.”

You chuckled. “Oh? Do you bend your rules for me too?”

“Of course,” His nose tickled the apple of your cheek, causing you to shrug your shoulder slightly. You felt his warm breath as he exhaled a laugh, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “Would never let anyone else butcher a batch of muffins in my presence like you just did.”

“Harry!” You cried out, shoving him off playfully. “I’m never baking for you ever again, you can starve during lunch from now on, see if I care.”

He laughed again, leaning down to bite the tip of your nose before you quickly tried to push him away. “Stop, baby, you know I’m just joking.”

“Too late now, you already lost your dessert privilege.”

“Ouch.” Harry pouted, attempting to pull his puppy eyes to get you to budge, but you simply raised your brows at him, chewing your inner cheek to prevent a smile from growing on your face. He started to lean down to press his lips on yours but he could barely move before the doors leading outside slid open again, startling both of you, causing Harry to quickly step back.

Your sister’s face peeked up curiously from her spot at the door frame, a juvenile smile teasing at her lips at the scene she’d just interrupted.

“What do you want, Ly?”

Lyla shot you a condescending look from your harsh tone, “I’m not here for you, dumb face.” She took out her tongue, and you rolled your eyes — sometimes she’s too much of a thirteen-year-old. “Auntie Sue said you were done and Harry promised to help me with a project.”

“A project?” You raised your brows, glancing at the boy next to you who was already adorning a guilty smile on his face.

“I did promise that.”

“It’s a secret project!” Lyla’s voice raised to a higher pitch.

“Okay, then.” You sighed, looking between the two of them before setting your eyes on Harry again. The pout is clear in your voice as you speak up,

“Seems like your presence is being required.” You nod towards Harry’s vibrating phone that sits on top of the table behind the two of you.

“Oops, sorry.” He shoots you a guilty smile before reaching over his shoulder for the device.

You avert your eyes as he glances down at the screen, focusing on the sunrays that peek from between the leaves of your green fence, painting the tips of the grass gold. It’s been just over a month since your first coffee date (you only call it that for lack of a better word) and, with summer just around the corner, the days are beginning to stretch longer. The sun is still bright and proud as the afternoon meets the evening. There’s a warmth that’s not yet too insufferable, but more like welcomed after months of endless drizzle and sharp winds. 

It’s perfectly fitting for a nice lazy day like this one. 

This is the first time you got to properly have him around for the day. Despite Harry having wrapped his term just about a week ago and your agenda keeping you in London for the next few months, both your schedules only seem to have gotten tighter. You spend most of your time during the week inside the recording studio — the sessions dragging into the evening hours more often than not, as you find yourself too caught up with them. Meanwhile, Harry’s back to working his regular working hours now that Act One has officially started working on the productions for the summer season.

Surprisingly, though, you fell into a routine of sorts quite easily. You still chat every day, not limiting your communication to texting alone (though you still love receiving Harry’s random pictures throughout the day), but also making phone calls most days once both of you have finally settled in bed after long working hours. And it’s not like you’re not able to see each other with these scheduling complications, it’s only that those hangouts are limited to either weekends or early evenings. 

On the two-week mark, after you met again, you could finally take him to the proper coffee hangout that you’d promised. The cafe in question is one you’ve been going to for over a year now. A friend recommended it, and you instantly loved it for how hidden it is, and most frequented by an older audience — which means you’re able to sneak in and out with no hassle. You took Harry there on a Sunday morning, and it surprised you to find that the place is actually much closer to his flat than your house. So, after cups of iced coffee and shared muffins, you two walked all the way to his place, enjoying the laziness that allows people to sleep in as the week reaches an end.

That was one of your favorite days with him. It had been a long while since you allowed yourself to simply relax during a walk; forgetting how it feels to be aware of every corner you turn. That’s the easy thing about being with Harry, you’ve found the simple concept of relaxing. He allows you to let your guard down, to enjoy those things you’ve once taken for granted. The ones that bring a sense of normalcy that can easily be overlooked by those who don’t get to experience the other side of it. It’s something you’re sure Harry doesn’t even realize he’s brought back to your life, but you still show your silent gratitude in any way you can.

It’s what made you invite him to your house for lunch in the first place. It didn’t go unnoticed to you how most times you end up back in his flat and, as much as he repeats how he enjoys your presence there, it doesn’t stop you from feeling the slightest bit self-conscious about it. 

“Shit.” Harry mutters under his breath, his fingers tapping swiftly on the screen, a frown deepening on his face.

Raising your brows, you wait a second before speaking up, afraid of interrupting whatever it is that has him alarmed, “Everything alright?”

“Julia’s making dinner tonight.” He replies, eyes scanning the device in his hands before sighing. “Completely forgot.”

“Oh. Is it, like-” You pause, glancing down at your phone that’s left forgotten in your lap, pressing the home button to check the time. The screen lights up, letting you know it’s just around six, meaning Harry’s been over for just about seven hours now. “Shit, I’m so sorry, didn’t mean to keep you-”

“Don’t apologize.” He locks his phone, shooting a reassuring smile your way. “My fault, really. Just completely slipped off my mind.”

You nod, watching him gnawn at his bottom lip, brows meeting in a frown as he gets deep in thought. Parting your lips. You don’t let any word out at first, afraid that if you do, he’ll remember it's time for him to go back. There’s a selfish voice in your head that wants to ask him to stay a bit longer, to not part ways yet, to just call off on this dinner. But you know better than to say any of it out loud, opting to suck in your lips instead, as if the words could just slip out without your consent.

Harry sighs, and you can’t help but let your shoulders fall, knowing what’s coming. “I should get going.” He picks up his empty glass, pocketing his phone as he stands with a huff. “Julia’s not very happy that I’m late.” He chuckles. “Again.”

Laughing, you get up from your chair as well, patting the back of your thighs as you feel your skin a bit sore from sitting for so long. Before you can answer him, however, your attention snaps towards the opened door leading to your kitchen, as a small figure comes rushing towards you. You feel the soft fur against your legs before you can properly register the pup circling you. Once you realize what’s going on, as the familiar black spaniel greets you, you freeze in your spot, glancing from the dog that now jumps excitedly on Harry’s legs to the door where he came from.

“You didn’t tell me you had a pup.” Harry smiles, his voice getting a higher pitch as he kneels to pet behind his ears. “Hey buddy, where did you come from?”

“I don’t.” You reply, walking towards the house as you search for the owner who’s likely already found her spot in the kitchen.

“Huh?” You hear from behind you as you stride towards the house. 

Surely, as predicted, you spot her hiding halfway inside your fridge, back turned to you. You notice how Bella’s blonde locks are way shorter since last time you saw her — now stopping just above her shoulders. As surprised as you are, you don’t comment on it, simply staring at your intruder of a friend as you try to figure the situation in hand. 

This isn't exactly how you’d planned to introduce Harry to your friend group. Well, shit.

Bella doesn’t pay any mind to you at first, but certainly senses your presence as she speaks out from over her shoulder. “Hey, did you not buy any more greek yo- Oh.” She stops as she turns, just in time when Harry walks in with the dog cradled in his arms. Her eyes jump between the two of you as she pushes the fridge’s door to a close. “Hi.”

“Hello.” You shoot her a look.

Harry puts the pet down, “Hi.”

“Uhm,” You stand awkwardly, playing with the rings hugging your fingers. Bella raises her brows in a silent question and you sigh. It’s not like you can do anything now. “Harry, this is my friend, Bella. Bella, this is Harry.” You motion your arms between them as you introduce one another.

Harry clears his throat. And you can only suppose how confused he must be, considering you mentioned nothing about a friend visiting today. But it’s not like you were aware of it, either. Bellas and you are at that point in your friendship in which you don’t find the need to announce your visits anymore, simply making yourselves at home every time both of you are in town.

He glances at you for a second, before nodding at your friend. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” She grins politely. There’s a beat of quietness that no one really knows what to say next, and you can feel a silent pressure for you to break it. When you don’t, Bella points vaguely to a spot behind her, “Uh, I can come back tomorrow…”

Your lips part as you try to stop her, but before you can do so, Harry beats you to it.“You don’t have to, really. I was just leaving, actually.” He scratches his nose. “I don’t mean to intrude on anything you two have planned…” 

“Oh, no, that’s not it!” Bella rushes.

“We have nothing planned.” You assure him, glancing between your friends. “Bella just comes to visit whenever she’s in London.”

“Yeah, I was the one interrupting.” She backs you up, clicking her tongue. “Should’ve called first.”

"That's okay.” You tell her.

“Well, I hope you two enjoy the rest of your day, then.” Harry nods, eyes meeting yours as he mutters, “I really need to get going.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” You say, “I’ll take you to the door.”

With one last wave to Bella, he follows you as you guide the way towards the front door. You open it for Harry, allowing him to step out first before you let it close behind you — as to avoid the dog from running out. Leaning back against it, you shoot him a small smile.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know she was coming.” You point back. “She has the keys so…”

“That’s fine.” He reassures, hands hiding inside the pocket of his jeans. There’s a second of silence, as you two just enjoy each other’s presence for a little before having to bid your goodbyes. You can’t help but let your eyes fall to his shirt once again — although being a simple white tee, the words I spread like strawberries embroidered to it have been haunting you all afternoon. Once your eyes move up again, you don’t find his, as he glances down at his shoes, a cute reddish tone painting the apple of his cheeks. When he speaks up, he peaks up at you from under his lashes, “I had a lovely time, as usual.”

“Me too.” You bite down a smile, tilting your head. “As usual.”

He nods, looking over his shoulder before back at you. Chewing down the side of his lip, he asks, “I’ll see you?”

You try to think of a date to give him, knowing as summer progresses your schedule will only get tighter with the studio sessions. “Uhm, probably sometime at the end of the week, maybe? I’m a bit busy, but I’ll let you know.”

“Alright.” He nods, staring for a second before stepping forward to embrace you into a hug. “Take care, love.” His words come out a bit muffled as he squishes his face on the crook of your neck.

You giggle as the strands of his hair tickle the side of your face. “You too, H.” 

Pulling away, he steps backward, pointing at you in a playful warning. “Still owe me a lemon tart.”

“Gotcha.”

Taking a deep breath, you watch for a bit longer as he walks away, waving a last goodbye before disappearing back inside your house. You give yourself a moment to prepare for the wave of questions waiting for you as soon as you step back into the kitchen. 

You find Bella twirling on a stool propped next to the island, spoon in her mouth and an open package of greek yogurt sitting on the counter. As soon as you walk in, she stops, pulling the spoon out as her brows shoot towards her hairline. She doesn’t wait a second before questioning, “So…” A smirk grows on her face and she points vaguely with her spoon to a spot behind you. “Harry?”

You groan, taking a seat next to her. “You were not supposed to walk in on that.”

“Well, I’m sorry! How was I supposed to know?”

“I don’t know, maybe try calling?”

“I never call before coming here.” She challenges, and it’s true. Picking a spoonful of yogurt and shoving into her mouth, she watches you for a second. You simply glance back, aware of her expectant stare attempting to pry you to speak up first. You watch her swallow, lips quirking as you refuse to give what she wants. She raises her brows again, this time voicing her question, “Is he…?”

You shake your head at her implication. “No, he’s… A friend.”

“That was a pause.”

“Well, he was my ex before he was my friend.”

“An ex? Is he-” Bella frowns for a bit and you can almost see the wheels inside her head turning. “Holy shit! Is he The Harry?”

Now it’s your turn to form a crease between your brows, confused. You don’t recall ever mentioning Harry to her. “Don’t know what you mean by The Harry, but, yes, he was my first boyfriend.”

“You’ve told me about him before.”

“Have I?” You blink at her. “When?”

She thinks for a second before pointing the spoon in her hand at you.“Yes! It was in one of your Halloween parties- actually, right after it.” She looks over at you, only to find a confused expression still settled on your face. “The one we had a sleepover, and I broke your lamp.”

“That was two years ago, yeah, I remember.” As much as your Halloween parties have a tendency of meshing together in your memory (as they’re mostly the same apart from one or two remarkable occurrences), this one in particular you remember quite well as it was the first time Bella slept over at your house. In the middle of the night, she knocked on your room to ask you if she could sleep with you. Her words were coming mumbled because of the alcohol still affecting her bloodstream. The two of you barely slept a tick that night, as you spent hours whispering stories to each other and, at one point, she got so excited as she was telling you about some sort of vacation she had taken (you don’t remember it that well) that she elbowed your lamp causing it to shatter as it fell. You try to rack your brain to find any recollection of mentioning Harry that day, but all that comes to you is the two of you falling into a fit of giggles when you told her about a past hookup of yours. This only causes your frown to deepen. “The party, I mean. I don’t remember mentioning Harry.”

“You were drunk.” She shoves her spoon inside the yogurt as she speaks. “Was sitting at one of the patio chairs, scrolling down on your Instagram page and you saw a picture of him, think you said it was his sister’s profile? I don’t know. But you were whiny for like an hour because of it.”

“What?” So it was at the party? You have a flash of panic, wondering who else was there to hear you whine over your ex boyfriend. “I have absolutely no recollection of this.”

“It was cute, really.” She tries to comfort you, still focusing on her pot of dairy. “You didn’t say much- you weren’t making a lot of sense, really, but I remember you saying he was the first person you were in love with. Didn’t know he was your first boyfriend.”

You fall back into your seat. “Yeah… That’s him.”

“How long were you together?” Bella glances back at you, brows peaking in curiosity. 

“Almost four years.”

“What?” Her eyes bulge. “How come you never told me that?”

“Don’t know, was a bit of a sensitive topic, I guess.” You know it was. The only reason why you refrained from mentioning him to anyone for a long time was because of the tightness in your chest that followed the sound of his name. “But yeah, we started dating right after his fourteenth birthday.” The memory comes to you as a smile. “His birthday’s in February and he asked me on Valentine’s day, was really cute. I don’t think anyone thought it would last that long at the time.”

“That’s super sweet.” She whines, her shoulders falling as she huffs. “Ugh, I hate love.”

You chuckle. “Same.” 

“So you broke up when you were, what, eighteen?”

“Yup.” 

“Was it because of distance and stuff?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” You think back to the time you two started drifting apart, a thought you haven’t revisited in a long time. “We were already very distant even when we were together.” Shrugging, you try to push back the heaviness in your chest. “Guess we were just meant to go different ways.”

"That's poetic.” She nods. You assume she’s noticed the way your voice has taken a lower tone, as her own grows a pitch, shoving you as she tries to cheer you up. “But now you’re together again!”

Breathing out a laugh, you roll your eyes slightly. “We’re friends.”

“Right.” She doesn’t sound convinced. “But, you know, you went each your own way and somehow crossed paths again. Do you know what that’s called?”

You close your eyes, already familiar with your friend’s antics. “Bella…”

“Fate.”

“Oh my god.” You shake your head at her, hoping she doesn’t notice the blush that creeps up your neck.

“I’m just saying, if I were you, I wouldn’t let this opportunity escape.” She bites down her empty spoon to hide the smirk that grows on her lips. The way her brows wiggle before she says anything allows you to prepare for what's to come. “I mean, with all due respect, he is very fine.”

“I knew it was coming.” You pucker your lips to avert from smiling, trying to seem casual before confessing, “But yes, he looks really good.”

“The long hair? The tattoos? Girl!” Her eyes widen. “If he wasn’t your ex, I would’ve been saying some really inappropriate stuff right now.”

You groan, hiding your face behind your hands. “Please, don’t.”

“I said ‘would’!” She emphasizes the word as she tries to pull your hands away from covering your eyes. “I’m only thinking about it, relax.”

Rolling your eyes again, you nod towards her half-empty pot. “Eat your yogurt.”

//

The air inside the flat somehow is warmer than the outdoors. The large windows opposite the kitchen are wide open to have some sort of breeze flowing around to relieve the heat coming from the stove. A generic scent of fried dough dances around the small space with it. It’s one that Harry recognizes from past times that Julia’s made the dish, and it makes his mouth water as soon as he steps inside.

Julia’s at her spot in the kitchen taking care of the food, her back turned to him as she bumps her hips along with the beat of a song he doesn’t recognize. Next to her, Harry recognizes Mitch’s back reaching for the small pile of plates inside the cabinet with Blake standing right behind (he assumes because she’d asked for his help with the task, considering she usually has a hard time reaching the last shelves). 

Their voices mesh together as they seem too lost in their conversation to notice Harry’s arrival. Right as the door clicks closed, however, Blake takes the plates from Mitch’s hands, turning to catch Harry right as he toes-off his shoes.

“Look who’s decided to show up!” She speaks up, calling the attention of both friends that still stood oblivious of the boy that now sports a guilty smile. Blake raises her brows at him, setting the plates on top of the island counter. “For what do we owe this honor?”

“Finally!” Julia barges before Harry can even start with the apology he went over in his head during the entire tube ride. “I was completely outnumbered in this discussion. Tell them that our plates are nice!”

He stops right by the edge of the kitchen tiles, furrowing his brows at his friends’ request. “What?”

Harry tries to search for an explanation from Mitch, who simply leans back onto the counter with his arms crossed, and an amused smirk painting his lips as he nods towards Julia.

The girl has turned back to the stove, a colander spoon in her hand moving the pastries around inside the pan filled with oil. She huffs before she explains, eyes trained on the stove, “They’re being incredibly rude, calling our plates tacky!”

Without even looking at the plates in question, Harry chuckles. “Oh, is it the floral ones?”

He confirms his assumptions when glancing at the dishes set on top of the island counter. The collection was sent by her parents around the new years after her visit for the holidays — she’d told them about how they cracked most their dishes at the edges and they sent in a full set as a replacement. And, as much as both of them found the action heartwarming ly thoughtful, they both had a good laugh upon opening the box when it first came in. 

Because they were, after all, a bit tacky. 

Each has its edges painted with a different color, with matching roses circling around it. To make matters worse, the center of them have each a different phrase. Harry couldn’t make sense to them at first, as they’re written in Portuguese, but from what Julia’s translated it doesn’t go far from those catchphrases you can find at the Live, Laugh, Love side of Pinterest.

That’s something Julia very openly makes fun of her parents about; what she says is their lack of taste for just about everything. And Harry was very aware of the fact, not only by the way she teases them to no end about it but also by her choices of presents to send back home (for instance, that god awful umbrella -- may it rest in pieces). With their time together as flatmates, it’s almost become somewhat of an inside joke between the two of them. 

But, as much as both of them have taken the piss about it before, they still have a fondness heavily attached to them. So it’s understandable Julia’s annoyance at their friends’ tease, especially when both bark into laughs at Harry’s question.

“You’re not helping!” Julia throws him a look from over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to confirm!” Harry raises his hands in surrender as he watches the girl roll her eyes before focusing back on the pan in front of her. He pulls one stool next to the one Blake’s taken for herself, sitting on it before glancing down at the dish in front of him. He spins it slightly with the tip of his finger, watching the yellow roses move with it. “But Jul’s right, stop attacking our plates.”

“I wasn’t attacking them, if I have any right to a replica.” Mitch moves from his spot to take the stool in front of Harry. “If I recall correctly, I even said they were very charming.”

“Your sarcasm doesn’t impress me, Rowland,” Julia replies from her spot, not looking back. “Just say they're ugly already! Since you guys hate them so much!”

Blake shoots Harry a knowing look, a smile poking at her lips from being too used to her girlfriend’s dramatics. She pushes her stool back, standing before she walks over towards the grumpy girl who’s now focusing on taking out the pastries and laying them on a trail that’s covered with napkins. Embracing her from behind, she presses a kiss between Julia’s shoulder blades before whispering something just for her to hear.

Harry watches them for a second, not helping the part of him that wishes he could have someone like they do. It verges a tragedy, he thinks, to be a hopeless romantic and not be in love.

"Food is ready!" Julia speaks up, her voice this time taking a higher pitch. Harry doesn’t miss the look the couple exchanges before finding their seats across from each other.

Julia sets the trail in the center. The pastries take a half-circle shape and are organized neatly in two rolls, their golden crust looking very appealing, making Harry realize how hungry he actually is.

“So, explain to me,” Mitch begins, nodding towards the dish. “What are those guys?”

“These, my dear, are called pastel- you know, like the color shade,” Julia explains, picking up one of them. “They’re basically, like, a pastry. You can stuff them with anything you want, really. I made the most common ones which are cheese- the ones on this roll- and meat.” She points to the rolls showing where each one line. “We usually have them as, like, a snack, but I was really missing them so I made it for dinner. And we also eat it with sugarcane juice, but y’all don’t have it here,” She shakes her head. “Tasteless.”

“Sugarcane juice?” Mitch raises his brows.

Julia goes into one of her rants that Harry’s heard about a hundred times before by now — the ones that come up every time she talks about her country, which he finds rather cute how passionate she gets when talking about her culture. His head shuts off for a bit, though, already knowing the information by heart, as he focuses on his groaning stomach. 

For a moment, they just eat while having more of a casual chat. Julia rambles for a good portion of it about her life back home, and, soon enough, they all share their own experiences that make them miss their hometowns. It makes for a nice bonding experience, four people from different spots in the world that found themselves in London at the same time. All sharing a meal as they recall the parts of them they left behind when they choose to leave. For a moment, Harry forgets all about the apology he’d rehearsed on the way back from your house. 

It doesn’t even slip into his mind how he escaped any sort of immediate interrogation about his whereabouts. He’s even naïve enough to think that maybe Julia’s even forgotten about it as well, thanks to the plates’ discussion. 

Harry soon finds himself to be wrong, though. And the worst of it all, it catches him completely off guard.

The group has just quietened down from a story Mitch’s told from back in the days he used to work in a pizza place. Blake’s just offered to clean up the dishes, standing from her stool as she collects the plates. Harry hands her his, glancing at her as he mutters a quick ‘thank you’. He doesn’t notice the way Julia stares at him, eyes narrowed and lips puckering, as she leans into the counter. It only calls his attention once she speaks up, her words coming out slow but almost calculated, as if she’s been thinking about voicing them for a while, “So, H, are you gonna tell us what’s up?”

He doesn’t realize what she’s referring to at first, only furrowing his brows in his confusion. “Huh?”

“Don’t ‘huh’ me, Styles, you’re hiding something.” She points at him and that’s when he realizes, breath hitching on his throat. “And I think that something’s actually a someone, so spill.”

He hears Blake chuckling from her spot at the sink. “Guess we’re going straight to the point, then.”

Harry tries to even his breath, holding back the urge to bite down at his bottom lip as not to show he’s nervous. “What makes you think that?”

Julia grins as if she’s been waiting for him to ask that. “Well, should we go over the list? You suddenly have a life outside, barely stay at home, you’re almost always late to hang out— and that’s coming from me, a Brazilian- oh! You’ve also been baking?” She puts out a finger at each topic on the list, emphasizing the last word as if it’s the most absurd concept to grasp. “And I caught you taking a selfie the other night, which would be odd on itself if I wasn’t sure that you sent it to someone right after.”

Harry nods slowly. “Okay. You kept a list.”

“So?”

“I-” He feels himself panicking, not knowing how to explain himself. On one hand, he hates lying, especially to people he loves. He also knows how upset Julia gets when people lie to her, considering honesty is one attribute she values the most in a person. So the prospect of not only going against one of his own principles but also letting down one of his closest friends, almost makes him sick. But he gave you his word that he would not tell anyone until you were ready to do so. And he wants to keep his word and respect your wishes, knowing that if he doesn’t, it could mean losing everything he’s gotten back these past months. It could mean losing you. So for a moment, he stays there, lips parted but not saying anything. There’s gotta be some sort of middle ground.  “There’s… Someone, and-”

A loud thud comes as Blake drops one plate inside the sink, turning around with wide eyes and soapy hands. “What?”

“I knew it!” Julia slaps her hand on the counter as she exclaims, her mouth dropping in the shape of an ‘O’. “I knew it! How do you get a girlfriend without mentioning it to me? I thought we were friends?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” Harry blurts out.

“How could you keep this from us?” Blake comes to stand behind her girlfriend, her face still wide in shock before she turns to Mitch. “Did you know about this?”

“I did not have any involvement in this, no.”

Julia continues her inquiry, “Who is it?”

“Jul-”

She interrupts Harry before he can properly form a word, “Is it that girl from work? The one that had a crush on you? What’s her name again-”

“Julia, please.”

“Alice!” She snaps her finger, her grin widening as she looks at him as if she just solved an enigma. “It's her, isn’t it? Did you finally make a move? Oh my god.”

“I- It’s-” Harry’s fully panicking now, eyes moving quickly between his friends as they stare at him, waiting for a confirmation. Is this the middle ground he wanted? No, he thinks to himself. This will only make things worse. He should just say he wants to keep it private for now. It would annoy them, sure, but they’d have to understand, right? It’s the rational thing to do. But Harry’s not working with rationality at the moment, and his mouth works before his brain does, “Y-yeah, it’s her.”

Blake gasps. “Harry!”

“I can’t believe you!” 

He needs to fix this. “We’re not dating.” 

“Yet.” She points before squealing, reaching a hand over her shoulder to hold Blake’s wet ones while placing her other over her heart. “Look at you! They grow so fast…”

“Please, don’t.”

“Babe, let him breathe for a bit.” Blake breaks her hand from her girlfriend’s grasp, reaching for a napkin and using it to dry her hands. She smiles at him, “I would like to see a picture of her, though.”

Before he has the chance to answer, Julia’s already talking, “You should’ve invited her to come today! There’s enough food-”

“No, it’s… Uh, it’s not like that.” Harry tries to come up with something to explain himself as not to dig a deeper hole than he already has put himself in.

Blake frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Just-” He pauses, glancing between his friends. They all show different stages of confusion. “We’re taking things slow.”

Julia rolls her eyes, “Harry, you’re already the slowest person I know.” She states as a matter-of-fact, shaking her head at him. “With your pace, we’re getting this relationship announcement in five years.”

He huffs, the insistence annoying him a bit. Maybe it’s because he knows the more they keep this subject, the deeper the hole he can get himself in. So he simply avoids feeding more into it, choosing to ask her instead,  “Why are you so obsessed with the idea of me in a relationship?” His eyes meet Blake’s in a silent plea for an intervention.

“Because I want to have cute double dates!” Julia whines.

Mitch deadpans, “What’s this, then?”

“Okay! We have desert!” Blake seems to find her cue to barge in, clapping her hands together before continuing, “And it’s made of chocolate!”

Harry smiles at her, shooting her a look of gratitude. “Chocolate sounds perfect.”

“Sounds marvelous,” Mitch adds.

Julia, however, is not dumb. She narrows her eyes slightly. “You guys are changing the subject.”

Her girlfriend barely bats an eye at her statement, though, only squeezing her shoulder gently, “Babe, why don’t you tell Mitch about brigadeiro? I’m sure he’ll love to hear it.”

The girl sighs, shooting Harry another knowing look before giving up on the subject for the time being. He only gives her a small smile, watching as she begins to tell Mitch all about desert. 

Well, he really dug himself a hole with this one.

//

Harry loves Sundays.

This is funny enough of a statement, considering how he used to despise it when he was younger. Back when he knew it meant that he’d have to be up early the next day to walk the cracked sidewalk leading to his school, fighting to keep his eyelids halfway open. The entire day would feel like a countdown (just eight more hours until the weekend’s over!). The only thing that made the day the slightest bit enjoyable was that he used to visit his nan every Sunday right after breakfast. He still remembers how he and his cousins would sit in front of the telly with their toys scattered around them, the entire house adorned with the scent of vanilla.

He’s not sure exactly when the switch of opinion for the day happened, but he knows that you’re one of the main reasons for it. Sunday’s were your days. They were the only days in which you were sure to be free from babysitting duties with your sister, hence why there was a silent agreement that settled between both of you to spend it together. So you reserved Sundays for the two of you. And Harry’s sure some of his fondest memories with you happened on a Sunday.

So it was hard not to love the day when it brought you to him every time.

Although years have passed, his attachment to the day hasn’t faded. Especially now, when you seem to fit back into his Sundays just as perfectly as you used to. 

The cafe smells just like his nan’s house used to when he first walks in - the only major difference being the scent of coffee that meshes with the vanilla in the air. It’s the third time he comes with you here and, just like the previous ones, there’s a surprisingly low movement for it being mid-morning. Most of the customers that frequent it, as you’d informed him the first time you took him there, are elders. There’s a couple right at the door enjoying the cloudless day at the chess table that’s carefully prompted just outside the cafe that bids good morning as the younger pair passes by, not paying much attention to them. Meanwhile, inside, the other four or five customers that sit scattered around the armchairs barely bat an eye towards them as they walk in, focusing only on their newspapers or crossword magazines that sit in front of them as they quietly sip on their drinks.

Despite you not sharing loads with him regarding your public image, from what he could gather, it’s clear how much you value your privacy. So it’s easy to understand why you enjoy coming here, as your presence comes and goes as just another one. 

And he quite enjoys it too, especially noticing how carefree you get in a space you’re comfortable with. Usually, on other few occasions, the two of you go out to public spaces that you’re not as used to, it’s clear how alert you are, even if you’re enjoying yourself. You limit yourself to plain clothes to not call any attention, always with what’s become your signature big sunglasses shielding part of your face -- you even wore them when you went to the cinema to which, although Harry understood the reason for, he didn’t refrain from teasing you about it. 

But today, you abandoned the hoodies and large shirts in various shades of grey. Harry knows the riskiest part of your day in being recognized would be the short walk from his building to the cafe. Still, that thankfully didn’t stop you from going back to your usual wardrobe. Instead, you’re wearing a white dress with red stripes lining along your curves, the skirt flowing all the way down your calves, showing the white sneakers covering your feet. The sunglasses are still present, of course, but you quickly push them up as soon as you walk inside.

Harry watches for a second as your eyes scan the menu written on the wall behind the counter, chuckling to himself as he knows you’re still going for the same order as usual. Before you can step closer to voice your order, however, he says, “Go find a table, I’ll get your order.”  You glance up at Harry, brows shooting up, challenging. “Medium iced coffee and a chocolate muffin.” He grins proudly as he recites your order. “Anything else?”

“No, that's it.” You bite back a smile. “You’re not paying for me, though.”

Of course, you’re insisting, he thinks, already shaking his head. “You paid last time and the time before that and, if I recall correctly, you didn’t let me have a say in it when I tried to intervene in either of them.” Harry pokes your side, nodding towards the table area. “So, go get a table. I’ll be right there.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you stay silent for a beat, clearly debating whether to keep insisting. “Fair enough.” You sigh, walking backward as you point at him. “But I’m paying next time.”

Chuckling, he keeps his eyes on you for a tick longer to catch where you’ve sat, his face warming the slightest bit once you throw him a wink as you settle back in the chair. Once he places the orders for the both of you, he notices some drawings stuck to the wall behind the counter as he waits for them to be done with. They all have a clear childlike trace to them, some more than others, and Harry assumes the more abstract one must’ve been done by a younger child. He smiles to himself, finding it an adorable addition to the place, even if it could easily go unnoticed by an inattentive eye.

“They’re from my granddaughter.” The barista smiles at Harry as he places two cups on top of the counter, nodding back towards the artwork that caught his attention. “Just turned eight. Loves drawing.”

“They look lovely.” 

“This one, actually,” The barista points to one that seems to be more recent, as it’s stuck on top of the others. It shows what looks like two girls holding hands; a smaller one holding a heart on her free hand, and a taller one with a star on top of her head. The man nods to a spot over Harry’s shoulder, “It’s her and your friend, she’s a big fan.”

“Really?” Harry’s lips part in surprise. “That’s very sweet.”

“It’s how I found out she was known.” The man lets out a low laugh, opening the display to reach for a muffin. “Millie was proper mad that I didn’t know who she was when she came to visit, but your friend was a sweet thing, signed her shirt and everything.”

Harry smiles at the story. “Sounds like her.”

“Sure does, seems like a lovely lady.” The man’s attention gets called as the front door opens with a ding. He shoots Harry one last smile, “Duty calls. Enjoy your coffee.”

Harry reaches for the cups with one hand, picking up your pastry with the other. “You too, have a good one.” He feels the words slip before he can register them and, as he realizes his mistake, he quickly turns to head for the table, eyes wide and a blush tainting his cheeks.

You lock your phone, setting it down as soon as Harry approaches the table. He sees a grin twitching on your lips as you glance up at him and he avoids your gaze, knowing it’ll only worsen the warmth on his face.

“What’s got you all flustered?” You ask, your voice verging a laugh.

“Stop.” He scratches his nose in a nervous tick. “Just told that man to enjoy his coffee.”

“Oh, no.” You burst into a fit of giggles and he peeks up at you, holding back a laugh himself as he shakes his head — he loves making you laugh. “C’mon, H, everyone does that. I’m sure he didn’t even notice.”

“Still embarrassing.”

“Just a bit.” Biting down at your bottom lip, you squint your eyes, pushing the muffin towards him. “Here, have a bite, you’ll forget all your problems.”

He breathes out another laugh, reaching to pick a piece of the sweet before shoving it into his mouth. Soon enough, his embarrassment gets lost in conversation, the rosy tone on his cheeks no longer making themselves present from shame but from laughing too hard from something you say. You two get lost in your little bubble for a good while, taking your time sipping on your drinks. Every so often, Harry steals a bite from your muffin — at first, he does it just to have a piece, but once he gets a reaction out of you, eyes narrowing at him adorably as you scrunch your nose in feign anger, he does it just to watch you.

There’s no better way of learning about you than watching, he’s found. One of the biggest changes that he noticed upon getting close to you again, is how you seem to have closed up in a way. And it’s difficult to catch on. He figures that someone who didn’t know you years ago probably doesn’t even realize how much of yourself you keep bottled up. You’re a rambler, that much is easy to pick up. But Harry’s realized that as much as that part of you remains intact, your chatters become much more superficial. You talk about specific events and memories but always narrate it as if you were a mere expectant. You rarely go into detail about your personal life all that much.

Apart from the day you were drunk on his bathtub, he’s barely got a glimpse of feelings regarding him. 

So, he resorts to picking up those bits and pieces you let escape without realizing. He enjoys noticing you (and he’s aware that’s a bit creepy of him, but he can’t help it). How you mention you light a candle before going to sleep cause it helps calm you down. How you refer to your friends with the fondest smile picking up on your lips (but also how you let slip out you only have a person or two that are close to you because getting to know new people makes you anxious). How you always smile at dogs whenever you are — sometimes you even wave at them. How you have the habit of circling your drink in your hand when you’re comfortable, much like you’re doing right now.

The last one always warms his chest. He’s realized you only do it when you let your guard down, allowing yourself to get lost in your world without having to be alert all the time. For all you know, the world outside this small table could’ve stopped spinning and neither of you would notice.

Maybe it’s why you don’t pay any mind to the two teenage girls that enter the cafe. Not until both of them stand right next to the table.

It’s the call of your name that snaps you out of your head. The girls barely blink as they stare down at you, their mouths agape in shock as they hold each other’s hands. “Is it you?”

Harry thinks there’s a flash of panic in your eyes, but it’s gone as soon as it comes. You smile as you stand, and he doesn’t fail to notice the way you turn your body slightly to shield him. “Last time I checked, that would be me, yes!” You chuckle. “What are your names?”

“I’m Lauren.” The taller one speaks up, her hand clutching her phone so tightly her knuckles are almost white. She looks down at the other one who simply stands there, wide eyes not leaving your figure for even a second. Once the other says nothing else, Lauren answers the question for her. “And she’s Georgia. She’s a bit nervous cause she’s a big fan.”

“That’s very sweet, thank you so much.” You tilt your head a bit. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You too,” Georgia says, her voice trembling and the hold on her friend’s hand. “Uhm, do- could we- if it’s not too much of a bother, could we get a picture with you?”

“Uhm, I don’t think it’s the best time right now, I’m sorry, loves.” Your voice is soft as you talk to them, but it quickly takes a more joyous tone as you suggest, “But I’d love to sign something for you if you’d like?”

“Yeah, if you can! If not, it’s okay, really.” Georgia nods, the words all but stumble out of her mouth. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“It’s no problem at all! It’s a pleasure to get to meet both of you.” 

Harry tries to watch discreetly as not to call any attention to himself, recalling what you once said about not wanting headlines of the two of you. So he only peeks up when you turn to fetch a pen from inside your bag, meeting your eyes for a second before you turn your attention back to the young fans. You chat with them for a little as you sign their phone cases, and he can’t help the tug in his heart at seeing you being so attentive to them.

“There we go.” You say as you hand Lauren her phone.

“Thank you so much!” Georgia exclaims, and even from his spot, Harry can make out a glossiness in her eyes. You pull her into a hug. “You’re really, like, one of my favorite people.”

“I’m honored.” You giggle as you back away, giving her friend a hug as well. Softening your voice once again, you keep a gentle hold to the girl’s shoulder, “Just one more thing, I’m sorry to have to ask you that but, would you mind not posting about this location?”

“Of course!” They say in unison, and Georgia is quick to add, “I wasn’t planning to!”

“Thank you for understanding.” You nod with a smile. “It was really lovely meeting the two of you! Hope we get to see each other again. Enjoy your day.”

The girls bid their goodbyes to you, and you give them one last wave before retaking your seat. Harry observes how you keep an eye on them for a beat longer before meeting his gaze, an apologetic expression adorning your face.

“That was sweet.” 

You sigh, “That was unexpected.”

“Thought that kinda thing happened a lot.”

“It does, just-” You pause, frowning your lips slightly. “Never happened in here.”

You tap your fingers against the wood of the table in a nervous tick, bringing your other hand to your mouth as you bite down on the nail of your thumb. It’s clear how alarmed you’ve gotten now that the girls are gone, eyes scanning every bit of the room. Looking anywhere but to Harry’s own worried ones. He doesn’t need to be able to read minds to know that yours is probably rushing right now from a simple glance at your face.

He reaches for your hand on top of the table to call your attention. Once you snap your gaze back on his, you let your shoulders relax a bit. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah! It’s just…” You try to brush his worry off, glancing back at the entrance before sighing again. “Do you think we could take this back to your place? Is Julia there?”

He shakes his head to your last question, “Of course, it’s not that far, anyway.”

“Thank you.” Your expression softens as you move to gather your belongings hanging from the back of your seat. “I’m sorry, I always do this.” Your shoulders fall, the edge of your lips frowning down.

“Hey, how many times do I have to tell you?” He bumps his arm against yours as both of you stand to get you to relax. “You don’t have to apologize, I understand.”

“I appreciate it.” You nod, but the crease between your brows doesn’t ease. “I just want to avoid a possible mob in case they end up posting about the location.” 

Harry tries to ignore the way his heart drops at your words. He wonders how many times you’ve been caught in a situation like this that ended up badly. “I get it.” 

The way back to his building is much different than when you were coming to the cafe a few hours ago. It’s noticeable that you’re tense as soon as you step outside, the sunglasses earning a permanent spot on your face for the time being. Even with your eyes covered, however, Harry still notices how you take in your surroundings almost cautiously. He tries to bump his hips against yours every time you do it, trying to distract you from your worries. It helps, as you shoot him a smile every time, bumping your hips back.

Screams from a nearby park call both your attention as you get closer to his building. As the day approaches the late hours of the morning, people have decided to enjoy the rare dose of sunlight that gave a break to the frequent rainfalls that cloud the city. On the other side of the road, children run around in a playground as their parents watch them from near benches. A few runners make their laps on the sidewalk lining the edge of the block as well as dog-walkers that take more of a stride sort of walk.

“Such a nice day.” You say, glancing down at the floor ahead to allow your hair to cover a bit more of your face. “It’s a shame we have to go back inside.” 

It breaks his heart to hear the way your voice takes a lower tone. He tries to meet your eyes, “Can tell you’re beating yourself up about things out of your control.” Harry pitches your arm, his next words coming out in a playful warning, stretching the word as to get you to smile.  “Stop it.”

“I can’t help it.” You let out a humorless laugh, coming to a stop at a corner to wait for a red light so you can cross. He looks down at you, but you keep your gaze trained ahead. “It is kind of my fault, you know?”

Harry frowns. “Except it’s not.”

“Thank you for trying to make me feel better about it.” You give him a small smile, shaking your head. “But in a way, it is. I know it is. And I don’t mean to complain about it or anything! Cause I’m aware of how privileged I am to get to live my dream and all that… It just-” You shrug. “It’s not always a field of flowers, I guess.”

“You’re allowed to not love every second of it, doesn’t make you ungrateful.” He argues, his hand meeting your shoulder as he gently turns you to face him. “Especially when it comes to all this privacy stuff, you deserve to have your space.”

“I know that but...Well, I signed up for it, you know? I knew my life would never be just mine once I started getting big.” You adjust the glasses on your face. Harry’s close enough that, if he focuses, he can see your eyes under the dark lenses. “And in a way, I’m used to it now, I’ve learned how to live with it.” You sigh, frowning at your lips. “What makes me uneasy when stuff like this happens- what makes me want to keep a low profile when we’re out, it’s not to protect me. It’s to protect you.”

Him? “Me?”

“Yeah…” Your voice is small, almost shy as the confession leaves your lips. Clearing your throat, you avert your eyes down as you quick some loose pieces of concrete from the sidewalk. “It’s the same with my parents or to Lyla or anyone that doesn’t have a life like mine.” You explain in a rush, trying to cover the timidity that warms your cheeks. But when you continue, it’s still clear in your tone, as the words come from your lips in almost a shame, “You don’t deserve to be exposed to all of it just because you’re part of my life. It’s not fair to you.”

It takes Harry a second to let it sink in. To understand the whole reason behind your uneasiness when going out. Why you’re so adamant about keeping your ties to him a secret. Why you try to separate him from your public side.

All this time. You’re doing it to protect him.

There’s no denial of how the confession brings a tightness to his chest. He knows it’s not what you mean to do. But he can’t help it when you sound as if you could be a burden in his life — when, in reality, it couldn’t be the furthest away from the truth. So his shoulders lump as he watches you keep your gaze away from his again, lips frowning down as he uses every ounce of self-control within himself to not pull you to him.

Instead, he ducks his head, trying to find your eyes under the lenses of your glasses. When he speaks up, his words are soft, to embrace you in a way he can’t physically, “Is this why you get so stressed about going out in public? Why you asked me to not tell anyone?” You look up at him at the question and he adds, “To protect me?”

“Of course.” You reply as if it was obvious all along. “W- Did you think it was… Something else?”

“I-I don’t know.” From his peripheral vision, he can see cars coming to a halt as the streetlight turns red, but neither of you makes a move to keep walking. The world around doesn’t matter right now. “I think I just assumed you didn’t want the media assuming…” He motions vaguely with his hand. “Anything.”

“Well, yes, to protect you from that.”

“You-” He shakes his head incredulously. There’s no denial of the bouquet of butterflies that bloom on his stomach at the prospect of you wanting to protect him. At how you say it as if it’s obvious that you’d do it in the first place. Almost treating it as if it’s your duty to do so. But he also can’t help but feel the slightest bit of guilt from it, knowing how this is the main reason that gets you anxious when you’re together. His hand reaches for your shoulder again, caressing it in silent gratitude as his expression softens, “You don’t have to do that, to stress yourself because of me. Do you know that?” 

“But I do.” You’re quick to argue. “You don’t know what it’s like, H. People are brutal. I won’t have them pestering you. I won’t have that.” There’s a clear quiver in your voice at the last few words, and Harry has to fight back the lump on his own throat at the sound of it.

“Love-”

You push up your sunglasses so you can fully glance up at him, “I’m serious.” Your eyes are set, stern, as you lock them on his. But they’re also getting glossy at the edges. “I won’t let them get to you too.” You whisper.

“It’s not your duty, love.” Harry insists, hating how you’re clearly beating yourself up for it. “I can take care of myself in case anything happens.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” The smile that tugs on your lips is weak, and you shake your head. “If you knew what it would be like...” You trail off.

“Is this why you don’t have any friends with- uh, a regular life?” Harry cringes at himself but doesn’t know how else to word this without making you feel abnormal.

You nod. “Pretty much, yeah.” 

“I understand where you’re coming from.” He says, eyes trained on yours as he wants you to take in every word that he speaks. “I do, but you maybe you shouldn’t allow those people to dictate your happiness.”

You give him a sad smile that twists his heartstrings. “That’s not what it is.”

“It’s what it seems like.” He argues, desperate to get you to understand where he’s coming from. 

The more he takes in the way your eyes water and your lips twist, shoulders falling almost in defeat — as if you’ve accepted the responsibility that you’ve weighed upon yourself — the more he has to hold back his own emotions. It’s clear the toll that this position takes on you; you’ve told him about it before. You’ve told him how you barely have anyone that you consider close — those in the industry being too worried about building their own careers on top of each other’s backs for you to be comfortable sharing any meaningful exchange (apart from very few exceptions). And now he knows why you don’t find these ties with people that have a life outside the spotlight.

 “Doesn’t it get lonely?” He questions out loud.

“All the time.” You let out a humorless laugh. “People don’t realize how lonely it can be to have a career like this.” It comes as a vent and you take a deep breath, your hand quickly coming up to wipe the sides of your eyes though there’s yet a tear to fall. “Like, yes, you have this big team with you, and everyone fawns over you everywhere you go, but-” You pause, exhaling. “After the shows, and the lights, and all that...In the end, when you go to bed, it’s just you and your pillow.”

Harry doesn’t stop himself now, taking the step to close the gap between the two of you, arms circling around you as he pulls you to him. “I hate that you have to feel like this.” He mutters into your hair, feeling you melt into him. Angling his head a bit so his voice doesn’t get muffled, he whispers, “From now on, you have me, yeah? If you ever need anything- anything, I’m just a call away.” 

You hug him tighter at the assurance, your own words coming in a breath that could have easily been missed if they weren’t spoken so close to his skin. “Thank you.”

//

“You should probably get that.”

Jack, your producer, nods towards your phone as it begins to vibrate on top of the wooden table again. You sigh from your spot on the couch, cursing silently whoever’s been blowing up your phone for the past ten minutes. Mondays in the studio are already hard enough to concentrate as it is - especially as you and Jack have been trying to get the guitar riff just right for the past hour - so to add your buzzing device to the mix feels like a cherry on top to your stress cake.

You shoot him an apologetic look as you reach for it. You wanted to wait until you were done to pay attention to whatever’s been going off so as to not lose your focus, but it seems like whoever’s been trying to reach out has been very adamant about your attention.

So you step outside, letting your eyes fall closed for a second as the outdoor breeze relaxes your senses a little. Jack’s balcony right outside his home studio is quite small and doesn’t stand very tall from the second floor, but you love how you can still have a view of a park close enough that the sunset in the back paints the full leaves of the trees gold. After a moment of peace, you sigh as you’re reminded of your duties once the phone in your hand vibrates once again.

Your brows all but meet as you take in the notifications on your screen. There are two missed calls from Sonia, and a couple of messages, not only from her but from your publicist as well. Opening up the chat, your tired eyes just give a quick scan over the words before falling on a link attached to them. Just before you click on it, you can feel your heart sink as you realize it’s a The Sun article.

“No, no, no, no, no.” You mutter to yourself as you wait for the page to load. When it does, you can feel every ounce you get cold as your dread shows itself to be true. What calls your attention first are the pictures, ones taken yesterday as you recognize your white and red striped dress. And you recognize the look of adoration in a click, perfectly timed when you took off your sunglasses. And worst of all, you recognize Harry, holding you close at the corner just before his building.

When you finally remind yourself to read the headline, you’re not sure how you don’t drop your phone all the way down at the words that stare back at you.

NEW ROMANCE? This year’s favorite breakthrough artist is spotted on a coffee date in London with a mysterious brunette!

//

AAAH It’s finally here!! I’m so sorry for taking so long with this one but I got very busy very suddenly at the end of the year but I promise next one will be here sooon!! As usual, if you enjoyed it please reblog and leave some feedback, I’m very excited to hear what’s everyone’s thoughts!!