#and last week when I decided I’d work outside for an hour or two one came and sat with me

[sanchoyo]

I’ve been wanting to reopen commissions soon but I rly need to make new examples, maybe try to figure out what ppl are most interested in (I think my most commissioned items are always icons, so? Those will be included) and what I can do…I also want to refigure my prices. Like I do want them to be affordable, and I do love drawing for ppl, but I also want to make sure I have the bandwidth + time for them and also feel like I’m being compensated properly since I do have a job now so they would be the Side Thing aaa TwT

but I’m finally at a place where I feel like. Not burnt out after every week and I’m in a nice routine now and pretty used to my job, so I feel like I can handle more on the side. Very excited abt that. Not excited abt making new examples or figuring out what I wanna offer etc tho I hate the logistics of commissions. Part of me wants to do a pay what u want thing with a set minimum and maybe start exclusively offering them thru kofi since it’s so easy, but we’ll see!!

I look to maybe open them around June so like. If anyone is interested, I’d love to hear what kind of stuff u guys would want? 🤨

[inknopewetrust]

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 [𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫] [𝐰𝐜: 4.7k]

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝟏𝟖+, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐍𝐈, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐮, 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐈’𝐝 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐯, 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐜, 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬.

𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬: 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

All available units, please respond.

The radio’s static was splitting.

In the driver’s seat, David picked up the receiver and held it to his mouth as the rain trickled outside. Early May was always dreary.

Your ears perked up at the call from the passenger side.

“1340 responding,” he replied to dispatch.

We’ve got a disabled vehicle northbound on Highway Y. A green, four door sedan with the license plate: 2-8-Frank-Queen-4-Charles. The renewal stickers were ripped off according to the caller and the windows are fogged but no one is in it. I called a tow to meet you there.

“10-4. On our way.”

He hung up the receiver and the small knob and put the gear into drive. As the junior partner, it wasn’t your place to decide where and when you’d take on cases. Some were hard, others were easy, but this seemed a little below your status.

“Don’t you think this one could have been handed out to… I don’t know, anyone else?” You asked him. He tapped his fingers on the wheel, shrugging in the slightest.

“It’s something,” Loki concluded. “I’d rather find a dud than sit around waiting for a speeder.”

You weren’t beat cops, you were detectives. But Conyers was small and everyone was irreplaceable because there was no one to replace anyone so cops played detective and detective played cops when the times needed it.

“They said it’s fogged up?” You asked and he nodded. “Did they ever think that maybe seventy-two degrees in May and a disabled car at nine-thirty in the morning might just cause the windows to fog?”

“I don’t think they’d call us out if they didn’t think it was something more.”

“Right,” you murmured.

You glanced over at him as he turned to get on the highway. David Loki was an interesting creature. Infinitely handsome, tortured at the same time, Loki was an enigma that years of partnership couldn’t crack. You’d known him as detective, as a friend (if you could consider him such), and after multitudes of trials and errors and wins and loses, the man had become a centerpiece of your existence—even if he didn’t know that.

You couldn’t stare at him too long without fearing that you’d be suspended for having an emotional, one-sided affair with him. He’d probably have a stroke at the idea of you and him falling in love.

He wasn’t that kind of man. Even in the hours where you thought your lives would never be the same, there was no last minute declarations of love or lust, just two people who hoped to get out of the hell house alive.

That was three years ago—so, excuse you for having an emotional attachment and a chip on your shoulder for rookie work.

You picked up the receiver he had put down minutes ago.

“Dispatch, this is 1346,” you called out.

Go ahead 1346.

“Did you run the plates for the disabled vehicle northbound on Highway Y?”

Plates belonged to a… Steven Hoyer, resident of Philadelphia, who reported his car stolen two weeks ago.

You kept your finger off the button. David’s eyes met your for a brief second.

“Any details on the theft?”

Philly cops think it’s gang related.

You quirked a brow. “You didn’t think to tell us this?”

Didn’t ask, detectives.

“Have the lab ready to swab it by the time we get there. Let them know that we will be accompanying it to and from.”

David flicked on the siren and lights.

10-4.

“What the fuck?” You scoffed. You put your arm up, perched on the windows crux with the door. “No one can do their job right, I swear to fucking god.”

“I could argue one person can do the job right,” David defended. He had a sly smile on his face, a rarity over the last few years.

“Sure, yeah.” You put the receiver back. “Maybe two. That’s it.”

“Gang activity?”

“Fog’s probably not fog.”

“No,” he agreed. “Should we call it in to fire? Have them take care of it in their suits?”

You shook your head. That was a mistake. You could feel it in your bones that something was amiss there and the world around you could feel it. David’s blinking told you he was worried too. He’d never voice it, of course.

“We’ve got this. Besides,” you sighed. “What’s the worse that can happen?”

When the vehicle came into view, the tow hadn’t arrived yet. Dispatch had described it accurately and the car that must have called it in was stationed just in front of it. It was one of those mini vans with the stick families on the back—the goody-two-shoes and pricks at the same time.

“Shit,” David mumbled as he realized the family was there and no inside of their car. The dad was wearing khakis and a red polo tucked in with a black belt. A certain goody-two-shoes.

“Why can’t civilians just trust we will deal with it?” You unbuckled yourself and grabbed a pad of paper from the glove box. There was no pen attached and as you felt around your jacket, you didn’t have one either.

“Got a pen?” You asked Loki who made one appear out of thin air it seemed. He handed it to you, grazing your fingers with it.

You wondered if he knew that even the slightest touch sent you swirling inside.

“Thanks.”

“I take back what I said earlier,” he commented as he undid his own belt. “Only one of us can do our job right.” He looked in your eyes. “You always forget a pen.”

And then he opened the door without looking for traffic and exited the vehicle. Fuck him and his smug, attractive face. You gladly would if given the chance.

David put on his best friendly face and reassured the caller that he didn’t need to be there. His kid was tapping on the glass, ignoring your kind redirection because mom too was peaking through.

“What do you think it is officer?” She asked.

“Detective,” you corrected. “And we aren’t sure it. But it may not be safe so please, ma’am, if you and your child would please step away from the vehicle.”

The boy who couldn’t have been more than five continued to tap on the glass.

“Maybe it’s weed,” she commented like it was a sin of the darkest kind. “You know those kids these days are just such potheads. I smell it all the time in our neighborhood.”

“Well it sometimes mimics the smell of a skunk, too. If you smell it enough you can tell the difference.”

You looked over to David who was flexing his fingers in agitation. The man, her husband, was dragging on the conversation beyond it’s time of death.

“Son,” you called out to the kid. “Please stop tapping on the glass.” The kid, blonde with red hues ignored you.

Another thud, followed by another, and another. You approached the kid and grabbed his arm.

“Did you hear me?” You asked him sternly and suddenly his mother became a wasp.

“Excuse me!” She scolded loudly. David turned his head and the father went silent. “Keep your hands off my son!”

“Ma’am,” you started but the kids other hand melded into a fist and punched the glass. A five year old, as inhuman as it appeared, cracked the car glass.

“Get your son away from the car,” David barked. The woman approached you and took her sons balled up fist.

“I will be calling your supervisor,” she told you. You were shaking in your boots, if the threat was the size of a mouse.

“Please,” you tasked her. “I’m sure he would love to hear your feedback.”

She roughly removed her son from the car as your ear picked up the sound of the glass cracking further. The car window was shattering in seconds. The line had crawled all the way to the top—inching like an icicle ready to break off a roof.

David cut away from the man and approached you as you stared at the glass.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “What the-“

The glass shattered before he could get any words out. Inside, the smoke began to disperse and escape out the window, quickly invading your senses and David’s.

A cough came first, then the burning.

“Holy shit,” you wheezed. The white gas lingered around your space as somewhere, David yelled at the family to leave and as soon as the tires yielded tracks on the pavement, David was ushering you away from the gas.

He figured the car was too close so he walked you down into the field on the opposite side of the highway. Just a cornfield that was being prepared for summer, there was nothing as the air began to clear and you heaved over yourself.

You coughed heavily, David too but less so than you. He didn’t take the brunt of it but his eyes stung and hot as his lungs did. It wasn’t a drug he’d ever had, nor knew of.

“Shit,” you winced in pain. Your hands went to your eyes and squeezed them shut. “My eyes, fuck—Loki, there’s a bottle of water in the car.”

“Yeah,” he coughed. He grabbed at your face. Both of his hands were hot on your cheeks as they tried to turn your head toward his own. He wanted you to open your eyes, to see what might have happened but you couldn’t because all at once, the senses of his touch overwhelmed you.

It was blistering, like touching a hot stove with no glove. Your shoulders shook but he felt it too because he let go the moment it got too hot.

“Water,” you wheezed. “Get the water, please!”

He ran off and your continued to rub your eyes. Beads of sweat trickled down your neck and through your shirt that you wanted to rip off your body. Everything was getting too hot and it truly wasn’t that hot outside.

You could hear the car door slam close and his heavy boots running back to you.

“Here.” He unscrewed the cap and held it out to you as you tried to peel your eyes open.

“You gotta do it,” you told him. “I-they burn so bad, David. Goddamn it.”

“I know,” he assured because his eyes burned too. But it was subsiding into something worse. He could feel it in his trousers that for some fucking, god-awful reason he was pitching a boner with no reason to. He wasn’t aroused in any particular fashion and there was nothing remotely sexy about the situation.

He helped pour the water over your eyes and he was mesmerized. The water cascading down your face, over your lips, and onto your neck was enticing. It excited him and confused him in the same moment because the erection and grown fast. It ached like none he’d ever had before.

“Come on,” he put a hand on your back and through your clothes it scorched.

“No!” You shouted at him, grabbing the bottle from his hand and pouring it all out your face.

“We gotta go,” he said your name in a plea that was different from the rest of him. He was always stoic and fierce and mean but he was pleading with you. “We gotta go.”

“The tow,” you reminded him. “We have to be here for the tow.”

“Fuck the tow. I’m getting us out of here while we can still see.”

And he put a forceful hand on the back of your jacket and all but dragged you to the car. He kept his distance, not wanting to accidentally bump into you. He held open your door and shut it tightly before rushing over to his side, removing his jacket, and sitting down with it over his lap.

Your eyes were open now. Beat red like you had smoked six joints but your face was glistening. David glanced down at your lips as the words came spilling out of your mouth but he heard none of them.

He just needed to get you both the fuck out of there.

The car tumbled across the highway and it was a few minutes in when you realized David had put the sirens on. You were burning. The insides of your body were on fire and the heavy breathing that you couldn’t help was one of the few sounds beyond the car you could hear. David’s hands were white-knuckling the steering wheel but there was an odd, given silence that you weren’t sure was supposed to exist.

You shifted in the seat and were quick to realize that you were not doing that again. The fabric of your blue uniform pants rubbed against your underwear slightly and sent a jolt through your entire body. It tingled, the most beautiful way at the worst time.

Instead of leaving, however, the tingle stayed. And it grew and grew until your hands found purchase on the tops of your thighs and crumbled the extra fabric into clumps. Palms sweaty, you couldn’t help the panic that surged through you as the arousal rose within.

You took a sideways glance at Loki as he sped faster and weaved through the little traffic on the highway. Sweat trickled from his forehead and a line of it fell beside the end of his brow. You had a crude thought of licking it off him and turned away, clutching the fabric tighter.

But the heat didn’t go away. The ached inside of you. You closed your eyes to imagine something other than the feeling and the road and the smoke but when you shut your eyes, all you could envision was David fucking you into oblivion and everything would be fine.

So, you opened them again and tried not to repeat the image as much as your body wanted you to.

“H-how are you feeling?” David rasped as he sped off the highway and onto a town street. You weren’t too far from the station. You didn’t know why he wasn’t taking you to the hospital.

“Hot,” you replied honestly. “My body is on fire.”

“Mine too.”

“I can’t fucking concentrate on anything.”

“Me either,” he admitted. As you approached a red light, he pressed his hand into the horn and you shifted again, holding onto the handle above your door and before you could help yourself, a gasped moan left your lips.

You trembled at the afterthought. Your fingers shook as your thighs quaked and the overwhelming urge to relieve yourself was astounding.

“What the fuck was what?” Loki asked you as the car cleared the intersection.

“What?” You nearly wailed. “What was what?”

“That goddamn sound,” he berated your name and moved the jacket in his lap. He could feel a spot in his briefs from where he’s left it a bit wet.

“I don’t know. I feel like I’m losing control of my body.”

“Describe it,” he ordered. “Tell me.”

“I-“ you stuttered. “I don’t know…” It came out quiet. “I am so hot and I can’t feel anything other than—“ you stopped short.

“What? Can’t feel anything other than what?”

“I’m not going to say it,” you threw your head back against the rest. “But goddamnit I need you to fucking hurry up, Loki. I need you to hurry up.”

“Do you feel like you’re going to die?”

You laughed. Yes, you actually did.

“Yeah,” you couldn’t help the strain in your voice. “I feel like I’m gonna die.”

“Me too.”

You peaked over at him again and the car sped up. Your eyes trailed his body and recognized now the jacket on his lap. Although he kept both hands on the wheel, the jacket was maneuvered too specifically and even in your state, you could see it.

“What do you feel like?” You asked him. He shook his head. David didn’t bother responding.

You took a plunge and crossed your legs together; the beat of your heart pounding at your core. You slapped a hand over your mouth so no sounds would come out. Squeezing your legs together wasn’t ideal but you had to. You’d die if you didn’t.

The relief was almost instant but when you moved them freely again, the pain, or heat, came back worse than before.

Shit.

In the distance, you could see the station and knew if you could get into one of the showers, you could finish yourself off quickly. Loki could have read your mind as he nearly jumped the curb to make it to the parking lot.

“Jesus,” you squealed as he slammed onto the break and as quick as he could, he exited the vehicle and ran inside without helping you out. He had taken the jacket with him and laid it over his front.

Holy shit. It’s a goddamn drug.

It took far too long for that sentiment to click into place. You’d read about them a few years ago and never fathomed it was make its way to Conyers. It was ridiculous. A sex drug.

And if your assumptions were correct with dispatch telling you the stolen vehicle was gang related, then this sex drug was meant to be the enemy, not a helpful tool in the toolbox.

Masturbating wasn’t going to help either of you.

You rapidly dislodged yourself out of the vehicle and tried not to think about the ache between your legs. As you sped through the lobby, the nice lady at the front desk, who’s name you couldn’t recall at the moment, looked incredibly concerned for yours, and David’s state of mind.

“Detective! Is everything alr-“

“Fine! Everything’s fine!” You shouted as you passed her and ran to the showers. You knew David was headed there too.

You raced through the precinct and pushed opened the locker room door so hard it hit the other wall with a deafening thud. One of the three showers was already on and David’s clothes scattered a trail to it. You locked the door which was only supposed to be used in emergencies.

David Loki was a strange man but messy wasn’t one of them. He took great care in himself, even if he didn’t care what others thought of him.

“Loki?” You called after him. You palmed at the buttons of your shirt and slowly undid them in a hesitant want. He didn’t answer.

“David?” You yelled a little louder as you got closer to his shower. The curtains, two sets, were closed and you couldn’t see a shadow of him. “I know what it is.”

You shrugged off your own jacket and began working at your shirt. Once your shirt was buttoned down enough, you struggled to get it off before moving to your pants. Your legs shook.

“It’s one of those aphrodisiac drugs that O’Malley gave a seminar about last year.”

You got closer and heard him murmuring to himself. You slipped off your pants and shoes and unclasped your bra.

“Da-“

Loki said your name strained. You could hear him working over himself quickly as the water cascaded over him.

“Stop fucking talking, it’s not helping.”

“Doing it yourself isn’t going to help.”

You slipped off your underwear and wanted so badly to finger yourself but restrained even if it began to hurt your body.

“You’re the last person I’d want to see me like this,” he groaned. “Fuck…”

There was something about his tone that made you not take it as offense. It was desperate, whiny in need and maybe it was the drugs but perhaps it wasn’t.

“I don’t know what those people did to it but it’s not supposed to be like this. It’s not supposed to be painful.”

“I know!” He shouted back. “I know it’s not—“ Loki let out a long moan as he finished on the other side. You clasped a hand onto the lockers and groped at your chest, nipples having pebbled a long time ago.

David was quick to see that his problem didn’t leave. It was still raging in front of him and he put his fist into the wall of the shower.

“What do we do?” He asked defeatedly as the pain of his erection was too much to hold. You hadn’t even touched yourself yet and somehow were holding it together better than he was.

“I think we both know the answer to that,” you admitted. “I’m sorry—I tried—“

“I know. It was that fuckin’ kid.”

The shower curtains began to pull back one and then the other. David’s head popped out before realizing you were fully nude and diverted his gaze.

“Christ!” He chastised. “Warn me next time!”

Next time.

“What’s it gonna be, Loki?”

“I don’t think we have a choice.”

“Could be a worse person, I guess.” You couldn’t say I have been infatuated with you for a few years now and I very much would like to fuck you.

“Yeah,” he agreed and looked at you. He drank you in. “I’m sorry it has to be this way.”

“Would there be any other?”

“I’d buy you dinner and drinks first,” in his pain he smiled slightly. You let go of the lockers and approached him. He opened the curtain and you could see the way his cock looked to be in pain just waiting to feel you. “And I usually don’t put out on the first date.”

“Bold of you to assume I do,” you told him. He walked back into the second half of the shower where the water was still running. You closed both of the curtains behind you as the cold water felt like a miracle on your skin.

“Do you need me to…” he trailed off.

“No,” you shook your head. “I just really need to fuck you now.”

Loki nodded and in an instant, he grabbed your face between his hands and planted his lips onto yours frantically. It was messy and erratic and unlike him but wholly him. He was as desperate as you, pulling you against him as his back met the wall of the shower and your hands caressed his body and traced the tattoos of his chest.

His cock was pressed in between you. You took your hand and wrapped it around him, his reaction taking you aback as he broke the kiss and leaned his head against yours. He still held it between his hands and moaned at your ministrations. It was better than his own but still not enough.

David pushed you back against the adjacent wall that the water was hitting. Your back was cold against the plastic covering and one of his hands traced down your body, gripping what he could and placing kisses along your collarbone and neck.

Your limbs were on fire. You ran a finger over his tip and gathered the wetness that seemed to never stop flowing from himself or from you. He reached for your leg and perched it onto his waist the best he could under the circumstances.

You met his eyes and nodded, reaffirming to him that it was alright and everything would be fine. And it would be if he hurried up.

Helping line him up at a perfect angle, you felt the tip of his cock swipe at your sensitive folds. It was breathtaking. So different from anyone else and it made your heart pound twenty times as fast. You let go of him to give over control and immediately, he eased into with little friction.

You were so beyond wet that you took him easy. He slipped in, feeling the mold of you give way to the pain the drug had caused and even if he stayed still and not moved, it would have been enough to feel normal. Yet, he couldn’t help himself. The feel of your plush walls were too much—too smooth and too lush to cause him to stop so he snapped his hips back and held your waist tight against the wall.

Loki pounded into you with a force. Feet slipping and hands searching for purpose, you held onto his broad shoulders tightly.

“Shit,” he grunted. “You feel so fucking good.”

Even if it was dubious, even if he was not in the most perfect state of mind, you treasured the sentiment.

He thrusted in and out, dragging out the time he’d spend going back into your pussy and even with the water pouring down around you, you could hear the sounds of your arousals meeting. At the thought of your combining juices, you cupped the side of his face and kissed him intensely. His lips met yours, fingers digging into your skin as your bodies heated release cam forth.

“I can’t last that long,” you mumbled underneath the sounds. Your fingers shook against his stubble and your legs were like hello. “I just can’t.”

“It’s fine,” he said breathlessly. “I won’t either.”

You nodded, pushing back his hair as he slowed for a second and the pain began to return.

“Flip me around,” you ordered. David searched your eyes for any kind of regret and found none.

He did as told. Slipping out of you, he turned you around in the shower and immediately you put your hands against the wall and stuck out your ass in his direction. Legs slightly spread, it was easier, he imagined, than the position he chose.

“Ok,” your voice was in the direction of the wall. “I’m good.”

“Yeah?” He offered. He took his dick in his hand again and pumped himself as he groped your ass now sprinkled with the water from the shower head. “Let’s finish this, hm?”

You hummed a reply. “Fuck me hard, Loki, and when we’re done, you can take me to that restaurant you always talk about.”

“Yes ma’am.” His breath was hot on your neck. He used his foot to separate you legs a bit more and maneuvered himself to enter you again. With you holding onto the wall, he took both his hands and grasped you hips so tight it’d leave a bruise and quickened his pace from before.

You groaned, gasping into the wall as you rested your forehead against the cool side. He was relentless in his mission; concentrated and forgetful of manners or his own truth. He let go. There was a sting of his body as your tailbone rammed against him, the feel of him so full inside of you relieving the burn and replacing it with something far worse: lust.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, leaning into you and letting his lips fall on the back of your shoulder. One of his hands slipped from you waist and intertwined with yours against the wall.

“I’m—“ you started as the toe curling sensation fluttered over you again. It was fast, not a mere minute of your cunt being filled did you feel the orgasm build and build. “I can’t, I can’t,” you repeated.

“Do it,” Loki’s voice was next to your ear. “Come for me, baby, come on… I’m right behind you.”

You squeaked as he hurried his motions. Like waves crashing into the side of a cliff, your orgasm blinded you in a white light. You squeezed your eyes shut and mouth hung open slightly. Your moan was elongated by his thrusts and your breathed heaved in your chest.

It was an exorcism of sorts—the drug leaving you and finding peace with the harshness of the sex you had.

As he promised, David wasn’t far behind. A fee thrusts later and he staggered, spilling himself inside of you with a hand on your back to steady you. He felt that white light too; cleared of the torment that wasn’t too bad after all.

The sound of the shower was all that masked your breaths as the feeling muted and reality set in. It was only then that you truly realized that you, a detective, fucked your coworker, your partner, in the showers at work mid-day on a Tuesday, without regard for being quiet.

You chuckled, then laughed. Loki didn’t know what to do or say, so he slipped out of your warmth and caressed your side. Even out of the haze, he left another kiss.

“So,” he cleared his throat. “Dinner?”

As always, thank you so much for taking the time to read my fic and any other fics that you choose to read of mine. Reblogs, comments, and likes are always very much appreciated. It keeps writers like me motivated—we all love to hear from you.

[warping-realities]

Animal I Have Become

Alright, I promised I wouldn’t write any more. But this one’s short and I cranked it out in less than two hours. The inspiration is obvious for anyone who’s a fan of "Karate Kid"/"Cobra Kai," since I just finished the first part of the last season. And for those worried about my studies, don’t sweat it—I was on my work shift, which I never use to study because it seems to attract all kinds of chaos. Anyway! If any quick ideas pop up, I’ll post them, but no more long stories packed with plots for a while.

I only agreed to go back to the place of my humiliation for one reason: Mikey was my best friend throughout high school until he decided, right in our senior year, to join the karate team of the new P.E. assistant teacher. Then, like magic, the skinny kid with a sharp sense of humor who could discuss everything from experimental physics to pre-Columbian American history, the guy I knew so well, was replaced by this arrogant musclehead who struggled with math and was totally incapable of having a history discussion that didn’t revolve around bragging about how today badass America was, and whose idea of a joke involved talking about tits or letting out a stinky fart. Apparently, it was a courtesy of the insane amounts of protein he started chugging to maintain his suddenly beefed-up physique. How the hell was it possible to gain that much muscle in such a short time? Maybe steroids, but the one time I asked about that, I ended up stuck under his stinky armpit. And what was up with that new nickname? “Snake!” How pretentious was that? But apparently, everyone in the group had a “badass nickname.” Ah, the joys of the standard American jock… Still, I tried to hold on to some of our friendship; God, did I try.

I even agreed to join a couple of those damn team practices, knowing damn well I didn’t have the physique, the skills, and maybe most importantly, the real desire to be there. I ended up getting ridiculed by everyone, including my so-called best friend.

I should’ve never talked to him again after that week of “practices.” But, being the idiot I am, all it took was a poorly worded apology full of grammatical mistakes that my brain refuses to recreate:

“Sorry, bro, the sensei got pissed at the guys when he heard their jokes about the size of your… well, you know. He wants you to meet us in the locker room today so we can apologize the right way. If you don’t show up, he’s gonna make us skip training for the whole week. Come on, please, for our friendship!”

… and there I was in that locker room. I should’ve left those morons without practice, but I decided to be the good samaritan.

Walking into that crap hole, what a surprise! It was empty. The pungent stench of sweat filled the room and humidity on the walls made it feel like the locker room was actually a beast whose musk drips off its body after a vigorous workout. But that didn’t matter; apparently, either the coach didn’t give a damn about what happened, which I should’ve figured, since he was just an older version of the ogre crew he trained, or he didn’t even know what went down, and I was about to be the victim of another lame prank.

Thinking about the danger, I quickly turned to leave. Then I noticed… on the other side of the room, hanging on one of the lockers… had that been there before? A piece of red fabric… oh, of course. A red gi from the team; they even gave themselves a pretentious name…. The fight practice was happening right at that moment. It was hard to think about it. I said so much crap about the team on TikTok and Instagram, tarnishing the reputation of the strong and disciplined image they worked so hard to create outside those walls that they probably hated my guts now. All those arrogant alpha dogs were arrogant and obnoxious. What the hell was I thinking trying to fit in? Nerdy little dudes like me didn’t really belong there. Even the jokes about my dick; if I were one of them, I’d just throw a punch or come back with some barbaric, macho comeback and everything would be cool. But I wasn’t like that, and my frustration with all of it was proof of that.

I never really liked the Gi. That red color always seemed way too aggressive, and for some reason, it always looked oversized on me, with sleeves and pants that were way too long and baggy. I had to wrap the belt around me twice just to keep it from falling off my skinny frame. Apparently, it never crossed the sensei’s mind that a little guy like me would have the audacity to try to join his team. Thinking about it, it wasn’t that I didn’t like the Gi; I hated it. It represented everything I despised about that bunch of trolls and also my lost friendship.

I stepped back and slowly turned my head back to the locker with the gi. Did it belong to someone? normally they were used by any of the team's bodies, one size fits all, or almost, when I was still there... anyway... after training they went straight to the laundry before returning for the next training session. Not that any washing would really get rid of the complete animalistic musk that infested their fabric. So why would someone leave it here?

Not my fucking problem. Probably just a spare or something. I think, walking resolutely toward the door, and I crack it open slightly. I turn back. I guess there’s no one using it. That means someone’s gonna grab it soon. Something’s bugging me. But what is it? I get closer, the musk intensifying. That gi definitely isn’t new and hasn’t been washed recently. And what’s this? There’s a note along with it. I sit on the nearby bench to read.

“Sorry, bro, today’s practice was super important, and the sensei didn’t want to wait for you. But he left your gi here. Put it on and come train; this time it’ll be different, I promise. Trust me, for old times’ sake.”

Old times? Maybe… maybe I should give it a shot. God, what a weird thought. Why would I want to do that? But while I’m thinking about it, my feet are already moving me to stand up and head toward the locker, while my hands are grabbing my shirt and pulling it up. I should stop. I need to stop. I should leave now, but the shirt comes off and goes over my head, landing on the floor. My pants are unbuttoned, and soon they join the shirt. I really should stop. Why do I want this? It’d be better to stop, but soon I’m in my boxers holding the gi in front of me. First, I put one leg in... then the other... then the arms, and then the belt… why is it black? I wonder, confused… but then that consuming need fades away.

I look at myself. As always, it doesn’t fit. I look like a kid wearing his dad’s suit at some event. I sit back down on the bench. Alright, that strange urgency is satisfied. So now I can just take this damn thing off!

But I don’t want to, for some strange reason. I feel more comfortable than ever. It’s like that mismatched uniform was made for me. My delicate hands wander over the ill-fitting outfit, the long sleeves sliding down my shoulders. I try to adjust them back into place, but they stop midway as I start to feel the material against my skin. The feeling of power it gives me… the feeling of strength… was it really this good when I was practicing? No, definitely not; if it was, I wouldn’t have quit. Man, this feels amazing... I feel the weight of the gi on me, both real and metaphorical… the weight of what it represents… my hands roam over its wide shape… it’s not just a uniform… it’s an armor… a sacred cloak… this is so cool… I can hear them in the training room… too bad I can’t join them... I wish I could... and they asked... didn’t they? I shift a bit on the bench and let my arms fall to my sides. Weird, I didn’t seem that far from the ground before. I feel cozy; the sweat smell doesn’t bother me, the whole atmosphere feels familiar, even comforting, like coming home after a long day and sitting in your favorite chair. I feel dizzy, like I’m about to fall asleep...

My rational mind, or what’s left of it, doesn’t notice. But unconsciously, I do… my muscles are slowly expanding, my skinny body pushing against the bench while my hands gently massage my slightly protruding belly that’s slowly flattening, the little bit of fat there seeming to be sucked in with every circle my hand makes. My shoulders are also widening, getting broader, as I grunt happily, a tingling sensation creeping up my body.

Feeling that, my eyes suddenly open, a jolt waking me up a bit from that stupor. What the hell was that? I look at my belly, and it’s widening as I’m hit with shock. I’m getting ripped! My hands trace the outline of my abs as the little muscle blocks there grow and harden, turning into six distinct shapes. As I stare at that in fascination, the stupor hits me harder.

The rigid stones of my abs aren’t the only things getting harder. My arms and legs are swelling with new muscle, keeping pace with my ever-growing body. And, well... I gently pat my groin. It’s definitely there too… a solid extra four inches, and still soft… As my body keeps expanding, the sensation turns pleasurable, like scratching an itch that’s been bugging you for ages, so I let it wash over me. My mouth opens in a gasp, drool spilling out as I pant like a dog. For some reason, it’s easier to breathe like this. Maybe because my nose is breaking and reforming a few times without me even noticing? As the drool runs down my pecs, I bring my hand to them and feel them grow, making my hands look tiny in comparison to the two meat packages they become. I shake my hand a bit, sending the drool flying, and with each shake, I see it grow too, turning into a massive paw, perfect for smashing some unsuspecting fool. Looking at that seems… really good… and I laugh. And out of nowhere, the other hand starts growing too, while my feet expand like crazy. My size eight shoes will never fit those paws; what size are they now? 14? Or maybe 15? A good kick with those surfboards and you’re down for the count… cool… hehehe...

No, not cool, not cool at all! This damn outfit is doing something to me! I stand up and grab the gi by the sleeves at my shoulders, ready to rip it off, and then…. I fall back onto the bench, my eyes unfocused again as a sudden wave of pleasure hits me like a tsunami. Yeah, a torrent of testosterone floods my body as my jawline becomes prominent, my chin broadens, and little tufts of freshly trimmed hair cover my chest and armpits. My mouth opens again, drool spilling out as my neck thickens, and my Adam’s apple sticks out, while my forehead becomes more pronounced, with low brows creating a scowl that makes it look like I’m always ready to fight, and my hair gets shaved on the sides, completing the look of a total douchebag. I try to care, I try to fight... fight... good… fights is good... no… not fight like this... I start to lift my arm, now powerful and making the gi look slightly tight… my biceps must be huge… hehhe… then it drops again… I look at my altered reflection in the mirror and see someone who could easily roll with Samue… Snake and the other guys… who knows, maybe now it’ll end… maybe I’ll finally break free from this stupor and get out of here… But then the real nightmare begins, as a web of powerful veins snakes through the swollen muscles of my body, a myriad of intrusive thoughts starts to slowly shape my mind, no matter how hard I try to resist. They break through my defenses with such force that my illusions shatter quickly as I start to forget. Memories of long hours of studying slowly morph into party after party with my friends, working out with them, training with them, watching my body swell and grow; time spent on pop culture becomes time spent watching football, hours and hours perfecting my college resume turns into hours and hours of sweat and sacrifice perfecting my fighting technique to the point of perfection. Just like my friends. Just like the sensei taught us to be. And we owe it all to sensei. Especially since he’s gonna figure out a way to get me into college, get all of us, in every corner of the country, ensuring that his teachings are passed on. Just one of us in any student group or, better yet, a fraternity, and boom, a new crew of brothers ready to spread the word… ha… word… funny… as if we needed to talk… no… our way is the way of the fist!

Shit, I can’t believe I slept through practice! Sensei is gonna rip me a new one! I shouldn’t have hooked up with those hot girls from college with Snake last night… dude, I couldn’t miss that hookup… I’ll just have to take the sensei’s punishment like a man… and I AM THE MAN!”

I stand up and groan, my voice deeper, with a bit of a growl. I turn toward the door, bracing for sensei’s yelling… Eh, screw him. He’ll put on his show about my tardiness, and I’ll play my part as the remorseful kid, and everything will be fine. It’s not like I skipped out or, God forbid, quit the team; I can’t even imagine the things he’d do to a damn deserter. I stretch a bit, admire myself in the mirror… Mad Dawg, you’re so swole… damn… you big, hot son of a bitch!

And then I finally walk toward the training room to join my brother’s in arms. Today’s practice is gonna be awesome; I can feel it, but honestly, it always is; I was born for this.

[woso-story]

Until Next Time - Last Part

Alexia Putellas x Reader - Part One | Part Two | Part Three

The Barcelona sun was as radiant as you remembered, its golden light casting long shadows over the cobblestone streets. It had been years since you’d walked these familiar paths, and yet, the city still felt like an old friend. You were in town for a two-week vacation, a short respite before the next chapter of your career began in Munich.

After three years with Portland, you had decided it was time for something new. Offers had come in from across Europe, including Spain, but the idea of playing for another Liga F team didn’t sit right. Barcelona had been your home, your heart, and you couldn’t imagine stepping onto a Spanish pitch wearing anything other than Blaugrana. Bayern felt like the right choice—another adventure, another step forward.

But for now, you were here, sitting in a little café that had once been your sanctuary. This was where you and Alexia used to come on quiet mornings, sharing coffee and conversation. The thought of her was bittersweet, as it always was, but you had learned to carry it without letting it consume you.

You sipped your coffee, gazing out the window, when the soft chime of the doorbell caught your attention.

And then, you saw her.

Alexia.

She looked almost the same, yet different. Her hair was slightly shorter, her features a little sharper, but her presence was as commanding as ever. For a moment, you thought you were imagining it. Then her eyes met yours, and you knew she saw you too.

Her expression shifted from surprise to something softer, something deeper. You felt frozen, your heart pounding as she hesitated before walking toward you.

“(Y/N),” she said, her voice carrying the weight of three years.

“Alexia,” you breathed, your throat tight.

Neither of you moved for a moment, and then she gestured to the empty seat across from you. “May I?”

You nodded, unable to find words.

---

The conversation started awkwardly, as if you were strangers feeling each other out. You exchanged pleasantries, updates about your careers and lives. But as the minutes turned into hours, the walls came down. Laughter spilled between you, old jokes and inside references resurfacing as if no time had passed.

“I can’t believe you still remember that,” Alexia said, shaking her head with a grin after you brought up a particularly embarrassing moment from her early Barça days.

“Some things you don’t forget,” you teased, your heart feeling lighter than it had in years.

The café staff had to politely ask you to leave when they started closing up for the night. Outside, the evening air was warm, the city alive with soft murmurs and the distant hum of traffic.

“Do you want to walk?” Alexia asked, her voice tentative.

You nodded. “I’d like that.”

---

You ended up at the beach, the waves lapping gently at the shore. The two of you sat in the sand, the conversation flowing as naturally as it once had.

“I missed this,” Alexia admitted after a while, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

You turned to her, your chest tightening. “I missed it too. I missed you.”

She looked at you then, her eyes searching yours. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“I didn’t either,” you said honestly. “But maybe… maybe we were supposed to.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

---

The next two weeks felt like a dream. You and Alexia spent as much time together as your schedules allowed, rediscovering the connection you thought had been lost. You texted, called, and met up every chance you got. It felt effortless, like slipping back into something that had always been there, waiting for you to return.

When the day of your departure arrived, the two of you met at the same beach where you’d spent that first night.

“I don’t want this to end,” Alexia said quietly, her voice trembling.

“Me neither,” you admitted.

She reached for your hand, her fingers intertwining with yours. “Then let’s not let it. Let’s try again. This time, we’ll make it work. We’ll fight for it.”

You smiled through your tears, your heart swelling with hope. “I want that too.”

---

The walk to the airport terminal felt heavier than it should, the weight of the moment pressing down on both of you. You glanced at Alexia by your side, her expression calm, but you knew her too well to miss the way her jaw tightened, the way her hands stayed stuffed in her jacket pockets as though holding herself together.

Your thoughts drifted to the last time you had said goodbye to her. That night in Paris, one and a half years ago.

You remembered the Ballon d'Or ceremony, the way her eyes had lit up when she saw you for the first time in over a year, the hours you had spent talking afterwards in the the little bistro, laughing, and feeling like the pieces of your life were clicking back into place.

And you remembered the goodbye, how neither of you had wanted to leave but had known you had to. Her soft “Take care of yourself,” the kiss on your cheek, the way you had walked away, fighting the urge to go back to her. You hadn’t known it then, but that night would mark the beginning of a year and a half of silence.

No messages. No comments on Instagram. Nothing. It had been too painful, too complicated.

But now, standing at the terminal, you realized how much that silence hadn’t mattered. You had found your way back to each other again.

---

“I thought about Paris a lot,” you said softly, breaking the quiet.

Alexia’s gaze snapped to yours, her eyes wide with surprise. She let out a shaky breath, her lips curving into a wistful smile. “So did I. So many nights I lay awake and I’d think about that night. I’d wonder if I’d ever see you again.”

Her admission tugged at something deep inside you. “I wondered the same thing. I missed you, Lex. Even when I tried not to.”

“I missed you too,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I think I always will, no matter where life takes us.”

---

Inside the terminal, you set your suitcase down, turning to face her fully. “This doesn’t feel real,” you admitted, your throat tightening.

Alexia nodded, her own composure beginning to falter. “I know. But we’ve done this before, remember? Barcelona, Paris and now Barcelona again. We always find each other again.”

You let out a shaky laugh, tears brimming in your eyes. “We do, don’t we?”

She stepped closer, her hand finding yours and squeezing tightly. “And we will. I don’t care how many goodbyes we have to say; I’ll wait for the next hello.”

Her words hit you like a wave, and you found yourself leaning into her, your forehead resting against hers. The world around you blurred, and for a moment, it was just the two of you.

“Until next time,” Alexia murmured, her voice steady even as her eyes glistened.

“Until next time,” you echoed, your voice breaking.

She kissed you then, slow and tender, as though pouring all her unspoken feelings into the moment. When she pulled back, she kissed your forehead, her hands lingering on your arms.

---

As you finally turned to leave, you glanced back one last time, just as you had in Paris. Alexia stood there, watching you with a bittersweet smile, her hands once again tucked into her jacket pockets.

This wasn’t like Paris. It wasn’t an end. This was a promise—one you both knew you would keep.

---

As you boarded your flight to Munich, your heart felt full for the first time in years. The road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but for the first time, you were certain that this love was worth it.

Because some things—some people—are meant to find their way back to each other. And this time, you and Alexia would make it last.

Until next time.

[thefallennightmare]

För Alltid: Jolly Karlsson x OFC! Astrid-One Shot[JP Universe]

Pairings: Jolly Kalrsson x OFC! Astrid[Just Pretend Universe]

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut( unprotected p in v while Jolly sits in the computer chair, slight biting, slight masturbation, Jolly suddenly realizing he has a breeding kink)

Words: 4,011.

Summary: The rope that binds Jolly and Astrid together is bound to snap. Can they tighten it before it's too late?

Authors Note: I've realized we haven't had an update into this couple since Fika came out so I decided why not! A little insight into the JP world without posting the next chapter. Also, I didn't tag anyone because I'm currently working on my tag list.

ASTRID

With a soft yawn, I scratched at my stomach as I walked into the apartment, the bag from the pharmacy clutched tight to my chest. My heart beat wildly in my chest with the only thought in my mind was making it to the bathroom. Thankfully, Jolly wasn’t home so he wouldn’t question what was in the bag. Even if he did catch me, it wasn’t like Jolly would say anything. He barely spoke more than five words to me since this morning; since our fight. He left almost immediately after our fight with a simple love you and I hadn’t seen him since, which was almost eight hours ago

The fighting had been more recent, almost every day one of us would bicker about something. It was like this months ago when I was dealing with the aftermath of my fathers death. Jolly suggested I talk to someone, outside of our relationship, about how I felt about his death. I took his advice and started seeing Dr. Poulos, which helped immensely. Jolly and I were good again, our relationship was thriving like how it had been in the beginning; back when he came to Fika every day. 

I kept up my therapy appointments until recently. The last two weeks, the only thing I had energy for was working at Fika from open to close and then coming home to sleep off the exhaustion. Jessica and Tori quit, both deciding to move onto better things which I couldn’t hold against them. I still had Sean and a few other new employees but none of them were management material. So all the extra behind the scenes work fell on my shoulders. Jolly would come and help out when he wasn’t busy with Bad Omens but that wasn’t nearly as often. 

It was four in the afternoon on a Thursday and I had plans on staying at Fika till close but after getting sick, I decided to come home for the evening, not before stopping at the pharmacy. 

Setting the bag on the counter in the kitchen, I glanced around the quiet apartment and felt my heart sink when I still didn’t see Jolly’s Bad Omens sweater hanging on its normal hook. I pulled out my phone to check if I had any new messages. 

I had five. Four from the girls group chat and one from Jolly. 

My hands shook as I clicked on the one from Faye first. 

Faye 🩵🧚: I’m going to throw up. I’m shooting for The Ghost Inside tonight while Matt works their front of house. 

Tay 🍓: Meanwhile I’m going to cry because I’m looking at huskies for adoption but my apartment doesn't allow dogs. 

Y/N 🐦‍⬛: Don’t get me fucking started on crying. 

Tay 🍓: Shit. 

Clicking out of our text thread without saying anything, I clicked on Jolly’s text. 

Joakim ☕🩶: I’ll have dinner for us after you get home from therapy. 

Fuck. 

My therapy appointment was in two minutes but even if I wasn’t sick, there wasn’t any way I’d make it in time. 

Right, were you sick the last two times you skipped therapy?

Typing out a quick excuse to Dr.Poulos about needing to cancel for being sick this time, I set my phone on DND and let it rest on the kitchen counter. As I reached into the bag from the pharmacy, the front door opened revealing Jolly who wore his typical sweater and dark glasses hiding his eyes as I locked mine with them. His hood was pulled over his hat but his long hair poked out down his shoulders. 

“Shit,” I murmured when I noticed his shoulders stiffen. 

“You’re supposed to be at therapy,” Jolly noted with a deep voice. 

I rubbed my elbows. “Yeah-uh-I haven’t been feeling well.” 

Jolly took off his sunglasses, setting them in the bowl on the table next to the door, and furrowed his brows while resting his hands on his hips. “Is that the excuse for missing the last three appointments?” 

I blanched. “How did you know?” 

“Dr. Poulos’ office sent a letter home,” he held up a letter that was ripped open. 

“You read my fucking mail?” I seethed while slicing my eyes into him. “That’s an invasion of privacy!” 

“I had no other choice, Astrid! You’ve been keeping shit from me,” Jolly sneered while throwing off his sweater and not bothering to hook it up. Instead he let it rest on the back of the couch. 

I bit my tongue trying so hard not to have yet another fight today. Mentally I was exhausted and needed to remember what it felt like to be loved by Jolly. 

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” I blew out a shaky breath while running a hand through my white hair. 

The brokenness in my voice made Jolly’s stern face soften just a tad. “Karaste. I just want you to talk to me.” 

I scoffed. “Talk to you? Why would I when I try to, it always leads to a fight.”

“You’re lying to me!” His voice boomed in the space. “Are you even sick? You had no problem going to work all day.” 

Every word he spoke dug the knife deeper and deeper into my chest because while I didn’t look sick on the outside, I knew what was wrong on the inside. Jolly wouldn’t understand, not unless I told him what was wrong. I just needed confirmation first. 

I looked away from his assessing eyes and casted my gaze down at my feet, kicking my scuffed up VANS along the hardwood floor. When Jolly first moved in, he made the emptiness in here feel like a home. Now with all of our fighting lately, it was as if the love had been sucked out. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Jolly,” I held up my hands exasperated. “It’s not like you’ll believe me since you think I’m lying.” 

He crossed his arms over his chest and I did my best not to gawk at how his thick muscles clenched underneath his tight black shirt. Somehow with him throwing off his sweater, Jolly was still able to keep the black hat on. I let my eyes linger too long on the tattoos covering his left arm, up to the typical cross earring he wore, and finally over the dark facial hair that covered his face. He always made it look so good. 

I clenched my legs together hoping to curb the fire that festered low inside of me. It had been so long since we touched each other but both of us were too angry with each other to even think about sex. 

“Do you plan on getting back into therapy?” Jolly wondered. 

My lips parted but nothing came out because truthfully, my therapy sessions were the farthest thing from my mind at the moment. 

“I-I don’t know,” I answered honestly. 

“You fucking promised,” Jolly scoffed while running a hand over his jaw. "Everything is a lie. Every fucking thing!" 

The door slamming in the small confines of my apartment echoed causing me to jump, doing whatever I could to keep the tears at bay. I wouldn't cry, not for him. Not for Jolly.  Even though the moment he walked in the door, all I wanted to do was cry not only because of the constant arguing but because I missed him terribly. He was here physically but emotionally, Jolly was checked out. 

"Asshole," I grumbled under my breath, eyes boring daggers into the closed door of his office/studio. 

Well, you did lie to him. You've been lying to him. Keeping secrets.

Ignoring the thoughts plaguing my existence lately, I blew out a shaky breath and forced myself to turn back towards the kitchen counter.  The exhaustion had been buried deep in my bones for the last couple of weeks and I didn’t think it had anything to do with working almost every day. All I wanted to do was curl in bed to sleep the rest of the evening away. Even though Jolly's words from our fight this morning before I left for work kept pestering me. 

"I haven't thought much about the future. I'm trying to focus on now." 

I asked him in the middle of yet another argument where he thought this relationship was going because I made the mistake of mentioning how I felt like things were stale between us. Jolly didn't think of the future. Of our future. He only thought of the now. 

It had been weeks of arguing. Weeks of walking on eggshells around each other. Weeks of not having sex. And weeks of keeping a secret to myself. Now that I knew how Jolly felt, I couldn't decide on if I should continue to keep it to myself or tell him which could potentially ruin everything. 

The urge to cry burned in my throat as I snatched the bag off of the kitchen counter and locked myself in the bathroom. I stared at my reflection in the mirror for a long moment, noting the dark circles under my eye and the dark roots of my hair indicating I had not only skipped out on my therapy session but my hair appointments as well. 

Averting my gaze away from the mirror, I dug out the box from the bag and nearly choked on a breath when I read over the letters once more. I nearly dropped it in the pharmacy when the realization began to sink in. 

Pregnancy Test. 

I had missed my period last month and it was coming up on when I was supposed to get it this month but with how I’d been feeling, I knew I wouldn’t be getting my period this month either. 

That night was a night where we had a huge blowout argument, both of us questioning if we loved another. Deep down we knew we still loved each other and it was wrong for us to question it. But both of us were stubborn so instead of admitting our love, we decided to fuck out our frustrations; Jolly dragging me to the shower with him as I wrapped my legs around his midsection, marking his neck as mine while his cocked slammed into me.. Afterwards, Jolly helped me to our bed and apologized for the fight as he held me against his chest. I took the morning after pill later that afternoon once we realized we weren’t safe which is why I was hoping the test would be negative. Maybe the reason why I missed my period was because of all the stress I’d been under. 

“Might as well get this over with,” I grumbled under my breath while ripping open the box. 

It came with two tests and I figured it would be better if I used both so after peeing on both sticks, I set them on the counter and washed my hands. These next five minutes were going to be incredibly slow so after I changed into one of Jolly’s shirts and opted out of wearing pants,  I paced the bathroom. I thought about maybe texting the girls group chat but knew with what Y/N was going through, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea. I didn’t want it to seem as if I was rubbing it in her face if I was pregnant. 

“Shit,” I clutched my chest when the timer on my phone went off. 

As I reached for the tests which were overturned, I paused for a moment wondering if maybe I should have been doing this with Jolly. 

“If he wasn’t such an asshole,” I muttered to the thought in my head and turned over the two tests. 

My heart was in my ears, in my throat, and in the depths of my stomach when I saw the one word that sealed our fate. 

Positive. 

Both tests were positive. 

“Fuck me,” I breathed while resting a hand on my stomach, the tears finally falling. 

There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that even though we were fighting, Jolly would be fine with whatever I decided to do. It was my choice. But would he stay with me? Bad Omens had been working non stop on touring and recording their next two albums. Hence why Jolly had been in a mood lately. I knew his anger wasn't directly related to me but because he’d been overworked. I also knew that didn’t give him the right to take it out on me. 

Pulling up Jolly’s text thread on my phone, shaking fingers worked out a text even though he was still in the next room. 

Me: I need to talk to you. It’s important. Can you meet me in the living room please? 

Joakim ☕🩶: I’m busy working. 

With a snarl, I snatched the tests off the bathroom counter and stormed out into his office, letting the door smack against the wall. Jolly didn’t bother to look away from his computer, one of Bad Omens new tracks on display, as I dropped the tests on the desk in front of him. 

“Congratulations. You’re going to be a father,” I snapped before turning to walk away. 

The chair creaked as Jolly leaned forward to gaze down at his desk, a soft breath catching in his throat. 

“Karaste,” his fingers grazed my wrist, halting me. “Wait.” 

“What? Are you going to claim I’m faking this again?” I snapped, slicing him with my gaze. 

“I-,” Jolly’s face softened as he looked back at the pregnancy tests. “You’re pregnant?” 

I let the anger fade momentarily when I heard the sincerity in his voice, the slight excitement. 

“Yeah, I guess so. I missed my period last month and I’ve been so exhausted lately. Not to mention my boobs have been really sore,” I cringed while running a hand over my chest. 

Jolly glanced up at my breasts with a small smirk but then he let his gaze lower on my stomach where it rested for a long few beats of silence. Fear of what he would do or say weighed heavy on my shoulders causing me to remain frozen in front of him. The air in the room was thick with an unreadable tension and the ringing in my ears was deafening. I couldn’t even hear our shared breathing as Jolly continued to stare at my stomach before his large hands rested there.

“Hi,” he breathed. “Jag är din pappa.”

Over our time together, Jolly had been slowly teaching me Swedish so immediately I knew what he said. 

I’m your dad.

I dragged a finger over his cheek, those amber eyes I adored so much gazed up at me underneath his black hat. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what, Astrid?” Jolly asked with furrowed brows. 

“For lying to you. For not going to my therapy appointments. For avoiding fixing things between us by working nonstop.”

I rattled off which made him link fingers with me and brought me down onto his lap, both of us now sitting in his computer chair. He rested his hands over my hip, slowly raising up the hem of my shirt so he could drag calloused fingers over my skin. It was the most contact we’ve had in a week and I leaned farther into him. His nose dragged over my jaw, breathing me in. 

“I’m sorry for all of the hurtful things I’ve said. I’m sorry for reading your mail when I should have asked you up front what was wrong. I’m sorry for locking myself away with work instead of fixing things between us,” Jolly apologized. 

Removing his hat, I looked deeper into his eyes, taking in the slight freckles on his face. 

“Can I be honest?” 

When Jolly nodded, I continued. “You freaked me out when you said you never thought of our future and now that I’m pregnant, I’m worried you’re going to leave.” 

“Absolutely not,” he cupped my cheek, dragging his thumb just underneath my eye to wipe away the stray tears. “I’ve never thought about the future until you came into my life, karaste. I might not express it enough, which is my fault but please know you’re in my future. Especially now.” 

His free hand grazed over my stomach and I nodded into the grasp on my cheek, leaving a kiss on the inside of his palm. 

“Can you promise me one thing?” I asked. 

“Anything.” 

Biting my lip, I spoke. “Can you promise not to propose to me just because I’m pregnant? I want you to propose because you want to, not because you feel like you have too.”

Something flashed in his eyes but Jolly eventually nodded. “Of course.”

While sitting on his lap, the chair continued to creak underneath our shared weight and I sighed, ready to get off which caused him to tighten his grip on me. 

“Stay,” he breathed in the crook of my neck. “I need to show you how sorry I am.” 

Quickly, Jolly’s lips were on mine in a leisurely kiss. It started off like how our first kiss did, like he was testing the waters again. I nearly sobbed into the kiss when I felt the love pour out of him. I’d been desperate to feel this way again. With his hands on my hips, he began moving me up and down his lap, the hardness of his cock pressing against the thin material of my panties. His name fell from my lips, almost immediately swallowed by his tongue as it explored my mouth, tasting me. 

Tattooed fingers slinked up my shirt to graze over my back before Jolly tossed it over my head and down to the floor, breaking our kiss. Lust bleed in his already dark eyes as he looked at my stomach, his cock straining in his jeans. 

“Shit,” he groaned while pressing kisses along my chest. “I can’t wait to see you round with my baby.” 

A moan fell from my lips as I exposed more of myself to Jolly, his teeth now grazing over my nipples. Along with my sore breasts, my nipples were extra sensitive. 

“Jolly,” I pulled on his shirt. 

He immediately understood and helped me work it off. Immediately my nails raked over the familiar tattoo along his chest as my lips met his again in a fiery kiss, this one more intense than the last. With a gentle tap to my ass, I raised my hips slightly so Jolly could drag down my panties with a bit of maneuvering. However with his jeans, it would have taken way more maneuvering on his part to slide them off completely. 

“We should move to the bed,” I suggested, breathless. 

Jolly shook his head, keeping his lips on the current mark he was working on my neck. “Absolutely not. I want you to sit on my cock while I sit on the chair.” 

Feeling feisty, I pulled away from him slightly to gaze down at him. “Really? This has nothing to do with Noah making it slip the other day how Y/N and him did something eerily similar to this.” 

He rolled his eyes with a groan. “Please don’t bring up Noah having sex right now.” 

When he motioned towards his unzipped jeans, I let out a soft giggle and then reached my hand in his briefs to grab his cock, already so warm and hard. 

“I’ve missed this,” I whispered, gathering his precum to drag it over the head. 

“Astrid,” my name came out through gritted teeth as Jolly rested his head on my shoulder. “I need to be inside of you. Please.”

Pulling his cock out from his briefs completely, I dragged it between my folds a few strokes before sinking down on him; both of us letting out a loud groan of pleasure.  It had been so long since we’ve felt this so I knew we wouldn’t last long. 

“Fuck,” Jolly strangled out while wrapping his arms around me to bring me closer. “I can’t wait to watch your belly get round with my baby.”

I mewled in response, mouth busy with leaving dark marks across his neck while one of my hands slipped between our bodies to press circles on my clit, bringing me closer to the edge. 

His cock twitched inside of me, indicating he was close when his hips stilled. “You'd look so beautiful pregnant with my kid. Your belly and tits-oh shit." 

“Don’t stop,” I begged while riding him faster this time, the chair nearly falling over. 

For the first time since I walked into the room, I noticed a soft tune emanating from the computer speakers, instantly recognizing the voice. 

“What if we got even for all the wrong reasons? What could it change?”

“Astrid,” Jolly’s voice now pulled me away from the song back to him and I brushed away the hair from his sweat slicked forehead. “I’m going to fill you up over and over again.” 

I nodded as the coil in my stomach began to ignite in a blaze of ecstasy, my orgasm about to snap. 

“I love you,” I cried out when my body finally snapped, arousal coating Jolly’s cock. 

With one final thrust, he followed me over the edge as he filled me with his cum and a breathless Jag älskar dig mer, karaste in the skin of my neck. 

I love you more, dearest. 

Falling into him with exhaustion, Jolly lifted me from the chair and carried me through our apartment towards the bathroom. 

“Are you alright?” He questioned while still carrying me. 

I pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m okay.”

Setting me on the closed toilet seat, he turned on the shower and removed his pants while we waited for the steam to bellow around us. 

“First thing tomorrow, you’re calling Dr. P to reschedule your appointments,” he said while running a brush through my hair. 

“I will,” I promised. “I never meant to skip them. I just got overwhelmed with everything. Work, feeling sick, and our fighting.” 

Putting the brush down, Jolly kneeled in front of me so he could rest his hands on my thighs. 

“What do you say we get away for a bit? Just the two of us. We could head up to Big Bear. I know how much you loved it the last time we were there.” 

I nodded eagerly. “I would love that. Fika is doing so well that if I closed it down for the weekend, we’d still survive.”

When the steam began to gather on the mirror and stuck to our skin, Jolly helped me up to my feet and rested his hand on my stomach where our baby was growing. 

“I need to call the doctor to get an ultrasound scheduled so I can figure out exactly how far along I am,” I said while covering his hands with my own. 

“Tomorrow?” He asked with bright eyes. 

I couldn’t help but giggle as I led him into the shower with me. “I don’t think I’d be able to get in that quick. Plus it’s Y/N’s birthday tomorrow. Noah wants us all there by four p.m.” 

As Jolly set me underneath the stream of water, he reached for my shampoo and lathered it up in his hands. 

“We should probably keep this quiet, for multiple reasons,” he noted while working the shampoo in my hair. 

I hummed in agreement and settled into the tranquility of Jolly washing me first and then me doing the same to him. 

Even through all of the fighting we’d gone through recently, it was evident our love remained just as strong as the first day he walked into Fika asking for a black coffee with two spoonsful of sugar. Almost two years later, he still took his coffee the same way. Just like our love had remained the same, regardless of the fighting. While I was unsure of a lot of things recently, there was one thing I knew for certain now besides our baby growing inside of me. 

För alltid.

We were forever. 

[writingsfromhome]

Dos and Don’ts III

A/N: firstly apologies for the wait and secondly I absolutely did not want to cut this into another part but here we are �� I think this will change some ppls opinions oops dont hate me

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

——————————————————

I couldn’t put my finger on it but something was off in my life; I felt disconnected from myself, my friends, and most importantly from Gray. But getting Gray to communicate when he didn’t want to could feel like pulling teeth. And I was no dentist.

I figured the solution was to stubbornly throw myself into work. After all, with Harry’s European tour starting March there was always a lot to do.

“Nice of you to get here so early,” Harry says as I step off the elevators just before 9–an hour later than I usually do.

“I had dry cleaning to pick up,” I ignore his sarcasm. “Your tour fits aren’t going to magically appear in the penthouse as nice as that would be for me.”

I keep my tone light, joking, but it’s passive just as he is. And he can’t call passive out.

That’s what working for Harry has been like since December. It was winter outside these walls and inside.

I had originally decided to let it all go after sitting with the party’s events that weekend but upon arriving to work Harry had been particular asshole-ish and I decided two could play at the game. It was like the holiday party never happened. And I was okay with that.

“If they did, I wouldn’t need you would I?” Harry takes on the same tone I do.

Asshole, “yeah, how nice would that be.”

I walk away to his closet to hang up the garment bags.

“You still have two fits that need final fitting. For today, you’ve got a 2pm for your ear plugs and monitors,” I say as I walk back into the main living space. I take in Harry in his bathrobe and bedhead and realize he must be hungover. Which meant extra grumpy. “Also a meeting before noon with Jeff—he’s sick so he’ll do a Zoom. And rehearsals start tomorrow at 8am.”

The long-awaited tour he was rehearsing for was 2 months long and with his tour manager joining him I’d be kind of redundant. We agreed I’d start the tour with him, and then end it as he came back to the UK but I’d take a break in between.

“Good,” Harry sits on a barstool and as the robe parts I hoped he was wearing something underneath. “Are you joining rehearsals?”

“Tomorrow yeah,” I instinctively start tidying the coffee table littered with Harry’s activities from last night. There’s empty bottles and unused rolling papers, takeout containers and unopened bottles.

“Can you stop that,” Harry snaps. He’s wincing when I look up. “The clinking—it’s too loud.”

His second statement comes out softer but it doesn’t make him any less irritating.

“I’ll just toss these ones,” I take the ones I’d gathered in my hand.

“So,” he carries on with the earlier conversation. “Just tomorrow yeah?”

“Yep, to make sure everyone’s there, forms are signed, and all that. Jeff will drop by too. Otherwise I’ll just be there once a week or so since I have other things to complete.”

“So you’ll enjoy the full glory of the show once it’s live on stage?”

“I guess.”

“Please y/n reign in the excitement, it’s just too much.” Harry flexes his sarcasm again.

I look up from the other side of the island and lock eyes with him. With one bottle still in my hand I don’t put it in gently, instead letting it drop onto the others in the bin. His face twists in pain and I get my hit of satisfaction.

“I am excited,” I continue. “I’ll be more excited when you get on tour but right now I’m buried under an insane amount of logistics and stuff. So I’m just pacing myself.”

“Glad you got that out of your system,” he slides off the stool. “Are you sure you want to join tour? It takes a toll.”

“What? Am I taking up the space you reserved for groupies?” I goad.

He pretends to think, “No…we’ve got a whole other bus for that.”

“Great,” I smile. “Then I’ll definitely be there for the start of your tour, cheering you on.”

“Not too hard though,” Harry grabs a water from the fridge and heads towards the bedrooms. “Can’t have all of y/n’s enthusiasm overshadowing my fans.”

I roll my eyes behind his back and choose not to respond, as tempting as it was.

By the end of the week I’ve met everyone that’ll be joining the tour, taken copies of a million contracts and filed a billion papers.

It’s Saturday night and we’re heading home from the studio. Harry, in a twist of kindness, offers to drop me home.

“You don’t live too far,” he comments as we get closer to my building.

“Yeah, I was surprised with that.” It was a stroke of luck having a short commute.

“How does Mr. Duran feel about you coming on tour?”

I throw him a look but he sits there smug, waiting. “Well he’s not keen on me being away from home for so long but otherwise he’s fine.”

“Is he?” Harry extends his knee to nudge mine, irritating me. Just a few more minutes.

“Yes.” I turn to look out the window, no longer interested in the conversation. In reality Gray had been pretty upset that I’d be travelling the continent with womanizer Harry Styles. I’d soothed his fears but he was hard-headed about it.

Originally I’d saved the conversation to be had after New Year’s to not ruin the holidays but Josie had brought up tickets for the tour during Christmas dinner and although I played it off then, he’d been in a mood since.

“You’re an awful liar,” Harry says. I don’t respond. Luckily I’m home.

I figured Sunday, on my day off, Gray and I could catch up and spend quality time together. Maybe iron out some of our kinks. But he tells me he had a few sessions and I’m left alone for most of the day, convinced Gray booked them on purpose but not wanting to admit what that meant.

The following Thursday night, Gray and I finally collide after I’d spent the week stewing in my anger and anxieties.

“Why won’t you just talk to me? I feel like I’m living with a stranger these days.” The conversation starts out semi-tamed as we wash up for dinner.

“You feel that way? Well I’ve seen my fiancée for less than 48 hours a week this last year. Talk about being a stranger.”

“I’ve been taking more time off,” I wonder when he decided to count the number of hours. But it was true—I’d started doing a half-days on most Saturdays and coming home earlier on week nights. Like tonight, I’d been home by half past 6. “I’ve been trying to spend more time at home.”

“Too little too late,” Gray mutters.

“What?”

“I just mean,” he sighs. “I…y/n, we barely get time together. We’re like flatmates these days aren’t we? We haven’t-“

“Don’t you dare Gray,” I wasn’t having this. I refused to hear what he was trying to get at.

“Y/n don’t be difficult-“

“Difficult!? You can’t go radio silent on me and then decide 3 years can just go down the drain.”

“I’m not saying that-“

“Then what are you saying!?”

The silence rings to the corners of our kitchen. The dishes are long forgotten, suds drip down my elbow and onto the floor, and Gray’s towel hangs like a white flag beside him.

“You knew what this job meant—you work with the same clientele, and you encouraged me to go for it. I’m trying to be better I don’t get it.” I finally say.

“I’m saying something needs to change.”

What takes me back the most is the even—even apathetic, tone. It’s the fact that he must have been thinking on this for long enough to be so level-headed about it.

Who has he talked to, I wonder. His sister? Our friends? Who’s advised him to go in this direction because the Grayson I know wouldn’t do me like this. Couldn’t.

Are you even the y/n Grayson knows, a small voice asks in my head.

“We’ve changed, I get it.” My tone takes a pleading ring to it and I hate it. “But you can’t just decide this isn’t worth fighting for Gray-“

“I’m not Y/n,” he puts the towel to the side and grabs my arms. “I’m not throwing anything away but we need to bloody figure something out because…I’m unhappy. And can you really say our relationship is the same? Can you call what we’re in a relationship?”

“Why not?” I whisper, tears choking me. “I thought we love each other and we support each other and-and we see each other through thick and thin.”

“I love you,” Gray squeezes. “And I know we’ve seen each other through thick and thin but…I don’t know if I can keep supporting you at the expense of us.”

“Well what do you want?” I look up into his brown eyes. They’re steady like they usually were.

“I want you, selfishly. I want all of you.”

He had what he wanted, didn’t he get that? He had me. I don’t know what more of me I could give him. And that thought tears me right through.

“What happened to setting a date?” Gray steps back and takes his steady grip with him. I sink into the countertop behind me. “What happened to planning for our future? Marriage and kids and buying a home and doing something more?”

His voice raises as he talks.

“I feel like I’ve been living in limbo for the last year! Just waiting around for you. I don’t know how much longer I can wait-“

“We can set a date,” I say. “We can do all that! You-you haven’t brought up any of it either! If it’s been weighing on your mind why don’t you ever just say something!?”

“I shouldn’t have to!”

I’d hit a nerve. We’d had this conversation a dozen times.

“Of course you do! Like, I’m not a mind reader you’ve been stewing in these feelings for god knows how long and now you’re telling me you’re thinking of-of-of ending things!?”

There, I’d said it.

His face contorts into a flurry of emotions. My body feels ragged just saying these things out loud.

“When I spoke to Stewart and Bex they said-“

“Stewart and…” I was right he’s been talking. “You were talking to Stew and Bex!? Since when did you spend time with Bex?”

“Since I had a lot of time alone at home.”

Fuck, he managed to get the upper hand all the time with that one valid point he had.

“They both agreed with me that this isn’t right. I’m allowed to be upset and ask you for something to change-“

“But why didn’t you talk to me!” The switch to anger is quick when he admits he was talking to our friends. I think about the last few times we saw them—had they been judging me? Had Gray told them by then?

Gray tries to brush past and tell me more about his validated feelings, about how things had changed. I can’t hear anymore.

“This decision you seem to want to make for both of us should involve me too and yet you make it the talk of the town before consulting me. I’m so goddamn tired of the way you shut down Gray I-“

“I’m tired!” He butts in. “I’m tired of watching things change and being forced to move past it.”

I stare at him. He’s not bending whatsoever. He’s not even understanding the frustration at being the last to know his feelings on our fucking relationship. Didn’t he understand how iced out that made me feel? When I’ve been trying to be as mindful as I can?

“You know what Gray,” I sneer. “You talk about us changing but did you ever think that we’ve been changing since we first met!? The only thing that’s different now is we stopped talking!”

I throw the rest of the dishes into the soapy water and storm out to the only safe haven I had right now—our bed.

Everyone wanted parts of me I couldn’t give and I felt torn to shreds! I hardly recognized the girl in the mirror, I hardly remembered what it felt like to be me.

The only time I felt centered, a bit of calm, was here. With Gray.

And now I knew the feelings weren’t mutual. He’d been thinking of ending things while I had curled in his arms. While I had kissed him goodnight and hello. While we had dinner or drinks. While we hung out with friends who were privy to all the cracks in our relationship. Who knows how long it had been a one-sided feeling.

I bury my head into my pillow wanting to scream and cry at the same time. My head hurts but mostly my heart hurts. I feel betrayed by my bestest friend and the person I love the most.

You’re no better, the ugly voice in my head shows up again. You’ve done things you should be ashamed of.

I block the voice out. I block it all out until all I feel is numb.

Gray doesn’t come to bed at all that night. I drag myself out of the nest I’d created some time around midnight, thinking he fell asleep on the sofa. To tell him to come to bed since I knew our sofa wasn’t long enough for him to even fit on.

I sway in the middle of the empty living room. There’s nobody here. Definitely not Gray. He’d left altogether, to wherever he’s been finding refuge recently.

It hits me; I think I’ve done this to myself. I was alone. Really alone.

***

The scowl is permanently etched onto my face as I go about my Friday morning. I feel Harry’s eyes on me a few times but even he doesn’t broach the subject. We silently maneuver around each other until he leaves for rehearsal.

I think about calling my friends to talk about this but I realize all my friends who were up to date on my life had become interwoven with Gray’s. And I already know Gray complained about my job to them based on a few parties last year. So they definitely wouldn’t be unbiased listening to anything I said.

I regret then, not staying in touch more with my friends back home. For the first time in years I feel a bit homesick.

I decide busying myself with work would be the only thing to keep me sane so I throw on headphones and get down to business.

As the day starts to come to an end I put on Harry’s stereo with the mournful songs that had been comforting me today and grab a seltzer from the fridge. He wouldn’t be home until 8 tonight and he’s always been open about using whatever was in the general living spaces.

So I nearly have a heart attack when I see a shadow from the corner of my eyes around 6.

I give a shout when it comes with a voice and once my senses return I realize it’s just a sweaty Harry back early from rehearsal.

“What? Are you doing here!?” I press on my pounding heart. “Alexa music off.”

He’s grinning at the way I reacted and now he laughs, it’s a bending-over laugh and I chuckle myself as I replay how dramatic it all was.

“Wow.” He says when he finally catches his breath. “I wish I had that on video.”

“Jesus,” I swear. “I thought you’d be home a lot later.”

“So this is what happens when I’m not home,” he teases.

“Only on Fridays,” I collapse into the closest chair and tilt my head back. “God, I thought there was like, an intruder or something. Or a ghost.”

He laughs again, moving to the kitchen for a water. “Good thing ghosts don’t exist.”

“They so do.” I reply.

“There’s no proof that’s ever convinced me they exist.”

“You live a sad skeptical life Mr. Styles.” My breathing is finally regulated and I sit up to look at him. “I’ve seen one myself when I was a teen. I wish I could be a disbeliever like you.”

“You’ll have to tell me the story,” he leans on the island looking very amused.

“I will,” I accept his challenge.

“I cut rehearsals short,” he continues. “I’m knackered from this week. I just want to be one with my couch and get drunk and not worry about what moves to do and what song to sing.”

“Yeah,” he looked tired and his hair was getting a bit shaggy. He runs his hand through the damp curls. “I need a shower and I think I should do a trim.”

“Consider it booked,” I pull the phone towards me and text his usual stylist. I hear him move around the space and pause before he disappears down the hall.

“Are you heading home soon?” He asks.

“Hm?” I kill time responding, acting like I didn’t hear his response. I didn’t want to go home at all. I didn’t even know if Gray was home or not and I didn’t want to find out. Harry repeats his question. “No. I wanted to wrap up some things. I can move to the office if you wanted the space to chill out?”

He shrugs and tells me I could go where I want.

I wanted to be out of the way, and not home. So I move to the office. The same office where weeks ago I’d teetered on the edge of a fatal decision and now was faced with the possibility of that decision made for me.

I slump in the seat and take a moment to just decompress. A headache creeps around my eyes and I just feel lost and hurt and alone.

When I break the laptop open again I move like a slug, scraping the barrel of effort and coming up with nil.

“Uh y/n?” Harry’s head pops into the door a while later.

“Yeah?” I blink up at him, still in slug mode.

He stares at me a second, “Do you have plans tonight? You could…join me in doing nothing?”

When was the last time I did nothing? I couldn’t remember. And it sounded like a distraction—not a good one, but one that helped me avoid home for longer.

“Sure?” I respond.

Harry blinks. “Oh. Brilliant. Finish what you’re doing if you’d like or you can join me now. Oh. Could you also order us some pizza or something that’s greasy and bad for us?”

I liked the direction of this. I feel my sluggish feeling slide away. “I can do that.”

“Good. Great. This is going to be a good night.”

He moves away as he talks and his last sentence is shouted from down the hall. I smile, relieved to do something like this.

I consider texting Gray, but decide against it. He left last night without a word, making me worried and today there’s been radio silence. I wasn’t in the mood to take the high road.

I do as Harry asks. Meanwhile Harry had put on some peppier music and brought out a six-pack from the fridge. His head is buried in the pantry rummaging through.

“What do you need?” I come up behind him.

“Oh,” he pops out. “Looking for some sweets. I’m sure I have some somewhere.”

“Oh yeah!” I close the doors he’s looking in and open the top cabinet. His eyes light up when he spots the options. “Food’s on its way by the way.”

He rubs his hands and starts pulling things off the pantry. It’s a different energy than any before, he’s not picking on me or ordering me around. He’s just inviting me to be on the ins with him. My instinct is to stay quiet and see where it goes but I shake it off.

“Are we just playing with beer tonight or is wine on the menu?” I ask. I hated the taste of beer.

“It could?” He unloads the pile in his arms onto the island and starts rummaging through the wines. “How about this one?”

A white. I take it from him and head for some glasses.

We end up making a buffet for ourselves on the coffee table and when the pizza comes we settle in, chatting occasionally about the things around us.

“So what does doing nothing involve?” I ask when we’re situated on the couch. Harry’s left a few feet of space between us which is very appreciated. I pull my feet up. “Because I have to say it’s been a while and I don’t know how to do nothing.”

He laughs, throwing his head back. I find myself grinning in response.

“Touché mon amie.”

“Okay I actually got that,” I nod.

“Do you speak french?” He asks as he opens the wine and pours us both a glass, mine’s a lot more full than his.

“No but I spent a month in Paris when I was in uni,” I savour the sour flavours of the wine as it coats my mouth and settles me down. “So I learned the bare minimum. Now all I can say is bonjour, ca beigne? And also un verre du vin s’il vous plait?”

“So you cut right to the chase—hey are you alright? A glass of wine thanks. Now leave me alone.”

We laugh and I hold up my glass, “I was hoping you’d get the hint. Why is mine so full anyway?”

“I’m just drinking some so you don’t have to drink it alone. Then I’m gonna crack on with the beer.”

“Oh!” There he had to go and be thoughtful again. “Forget it, I will happily drink the bottle. Drink whatever you want.”

“Yeah?” He leans forward to put his glass down.

I lean over and pour his measly amount into mine. “There, you’ve done the sharing part.”

“So y/n,” he asks after we’ve grabbed our respective snacks of choice. “Can I ask why you were listening to all those ballads before I came in?”

“I need to get a bit more drunk before I do that,” I down some more wine, already feeling the buzz of it. Obviously this was not the cheap wine I generally had.

“Alright we’ll get you there,” he promises. His eyes flicker from his phone to me and back to his phone. “Uhh could I show you something?”

“Like what?”

“We’re releasing the MV for one of my songs a week before I go on tour right.”

“Right,” I name the single that’s been thrown around countless times this week.

“I got back the deck for what it’ll look like. I’m excited can I show it to you?”

It’s endearing, in a way, how eager he is to show it. His cheeks even have spots of pink.

“Uh yeah! Let’s see it!”

“Cool,” he grins. He turns on the TV and casts whatever video is on his phone to the screen. He gives me some background on how it was setting up a whole storyline and how they’ve already started filming some of the scenes.

“The shooting starts the week after this one right?”

“Yeah, I’ll be in Scotland for a few days. You’re joining me right?”

“Yes! I’m excited to see all the action myself.” I had signed up for the 4-day trip with zero hesitation. As someone who’s always been making up stories and concepts to most music I listened to, getting to see the bts for an MV was a dream come true.

“Really?” He asks.

“Yeah, it’s real excitement I promise.”

“You’re interested in it?”

“Yeah! I love music videos, it creates a whole new experience for a song we’ve probably listened to on repeat. It’s cool!”

“So this is y/n really enthusiastic,” he leans back in the cushions to get me in full. “Now I really know you couldn’t give a rat’s arse about tour.”

“Stop saying that!” I laugh. “I was just stressed. I am excited about all of it okay?”

“So you say,” with a final glance he presses play and I’m entranced as the narration takes us through the plan.

“Umm all I can say is wow.” I turn to him when it’s done. My wine glass had been emptied and my brain had been itched with the most beautiful location and storytelling I’ve seen in a while. “That’s like a mini movie.”

“That’s what I said!” He exclaims. “It’s going to blow everything out of the water.”

“Look at us, doing nothing.” I realize we’d turned around and talked about work.

“Bollocks we’re no good at this.” Harry slides a hand down his face and I laugh at the dramatics. “Let me refill you at least.”

I happily oblige.

We talk about the mv some more, and move onto the tour. Harry asks me about the concerts I’ve been to and we get the kind of excited when you’re tipsy once we find out we were both at a Coldplay concert four years ago in London.

“That would’ve been before the success so I would have been just another bloke to you,” he notes.

“Yeah, imagine we crossed paths then? That would be crazy.”

“If we did, we might still be doing this tonight, just as mates,” he points to between us. “Or you would have fallen in love with me and I would have sacrificed my music to raise our kids.”

“What!?” It’s so absurdly ridiculous that I nearly snort my wine. “Where did that comes from!?”

“Admit it,” he puffs out his chest. “That would have happened. And I’d be so committed-“

“Well you’re assuming that in a 4 year time-span we would get to the point of having kids. So firstly no, secondly who said you had to sacrifice your career?”

“I-“ he stops mid-sentence, looking into the distance.

“Exactly!” I shout. “You’ve got nothing. You’ve just made up a story that makes you sounds good and noble!”

“Fine,” he settles down. “Fine! We never meet and you end up with your Duran bloke and I end up a musician.”

“Is that all I’m reduced to?” I raise my brow. “Who I’m with?”

“No!” He leans between us to pat my leg. It tingles. “No I didn’t mean it like that. You’ll do great things. I just mean the person you end up with isn’t superstar Harry Styles.”

I roll my eyes, “I need more wine if I’m gonna be subjected to any more of this bullshit.”

“Bullshit?!”

“Mhm,” I pop a gummy into my mouth and ignore the look of shock on his face.

“Fine. Then tell me about your bullshit,” he raises his can. “What’s happening to make you so ferocious this morning.”

Oh god. I hold up a finger and shimmy forward for some more wine. I’d drank 2/3 of the bottle and I was definitely tipsy. Maybe I’ll just sip this one.

“Fine. If you want to hear it.”

“I do.”

“I got into a fight with Gray.”

He raises a brow, I continue.

“He’s upset with me and complaining that I work a lot and that he feels like I’m his flatmate!”

“Flatmate with benefits.”

“Shut up!” I groan. “Not the point.”

“Sorry!” He holds his hands up.

“I don’t think he realizes how much of my head is just Gray like, I’m always thinking about him, about what I could do for him and say to him just to make sure he feels seen and reassured and loved! You know I’ve asked you for half-days on Saturdays when you don’t have a lot going on-“

“Mhm,” he nods along.

“I’m like, making sure I’m being a good partner. And apparently he’s been upset and not saying anything.”

“The old silent on the home front.”

“Yes!” I nearly drip wine as I pump my hand. “Yes, on the home front he’s bloody broody and quiet. I knew something was on his mind but like always he’s tight lipped. Even when I asked him a week ago he said he’s just been working a lot. What a liar!”

I complain about how it felt to be iced out of my partner’s emotions and having to guess all the time.

“Then I find out he’s been talking to all our friends to get advice.” Harry raises his brows in judgement and leans back into the sofa, and the small gesture makes me feel so validated. I didn’t realize how much I needed a third-party to just listen to my side of things. Until now, I’d literally not had anyone to talk to about this especially since I avoided talking about work with Gray. I get misty eyed.

“And when we’re talking he’s like so-and-so said this as if I want to know. And!” Now I was on a roll. I put my glass down in fear of spilling it on the pristine sofa and get on my knees to emphasize my frustration. “And the girl he quoted? Get this, I met her—Rebecca—at a job I did like a year ago? And we got along fabulously and I invited her to this party we threw right because she was new to the city and all that. She met my other friends and she fit in so well they invited her the next event. I got her into the group and now she’s talking shit about me with my fiancé behind my back!”

“She’s probably got a thing for your man,” Harry suggests.

“Oh she definitely does!” I’m animated as I continue. “She so does! I’ve caught her making eyes at him before, and laughing a lot whenever he makes a joke. I even mentioned it to him once but he said he didn’t notice.”

“He probably didn’t,” Harry shrugs.

“I know, the male species is a wonder. You get big flirts like you and then otherwise they’re completely oblivious.”

“I’ll have you know when I was a teen, a girl literally gave me a valentine cupcake and I just thought—well I knew she liked to bake, so I thought she just had extras. I didn’t understand why she didn’t speak to me the rest of the year.”

“No way,” I laugh—a lot because the wine was definitely sloshing around in my head, but also I couldn’t imagine Harry being that aloof. “I guess it comes with the ego territory. Were you less of a jerk as a kid?”

His jaw drops. “You just called me a jerk right now. To my face.”

“I did,” I say with glee. I stand to get the full picture of an offended Harry. “And I don’t regret it. So? Were you nicer as a kid?”

“No I’m not answering until you take that back.”

“What! You are a jerk…sometimes! I’m not taking it back!”

“You have to take it back otherwise I will cut you off on the wine.”

I take a step back and stumble as he speaks. Which makes me laugh more. “I think I should cut back. I am a hot mess.”

“At least you’re laughing,” Harry stands too. “It’s world’s different from this morning.”

Just like telling someone not to think of an elephant, I think of the elephant.

“Noo no don’t do that!” Harry rushes towards me and bends down to look me in the eye. “I liked it when you were smiling just now c’mon.”

“Well you reminded me why I was so upset-“

“Can’t stay grumpy, just give me another smile. One smile! Small teeny tiny smile—there it is!”

I can’t help it with his face in mine and the way he’s putting on a voice to get me to smile my face splits in a grin.

“You’re soooo annoying!” I push him but unstable and drunk I fall backwards.

I don’t know what happens next but I’m on the floor looking up into Harry’s concerned face.

“Y/n? Y/n!?”

“Yeah,” my head pounds as I try to make sense of where I am.

“Fuck,” I hear Harry say. He moves away and the overhead light attacks my eyes so I squeeze them shut.

I hear him, panicked, on the phone.

“No!” I try to call out. “M’fine! Don’t even worry-“

“Stay down Y/N,” he’s back by my side. I try to prove to him that I’m okay and sit up but a few inches off the ground and my head feels like it’s full of bees.

“So many bees,” I murmur as I go back down, now a pillow behind my head.

A few minutes later Harry’s helping me up gently. I tell him I wanted to throw up and he helps me to the toilet where I do. Gah. Why did I drink so much.

“I think I’ll head home now,” I hear myself saying to Harry like I was miles away.

“No,” his hands are around my shoulder and holding me upright as we walk out. The lift increases my nausea but I keep my eyes shut.

“I’m going home now,” I tell Harry when we get outside.

“No you’re getting checked out.”

“No!” I shove him away and nearly topple over myself. Why did he have to boss me around all the time? “Stop telling me what to do! My head hurts I’m going home!”

He tries to grab my hand but I yank it off. “Stop! Just stop!”

“Y/n,” Harry’s voice is low and comforting as he gets down in my ear. He smells nice too. “You passed out and you have a headache we have to get you checked out.”

“You’re no fun,” I cross my arms but follow him, only because my headache is so bad. As we get in the car I close my eyes shut as the lights assault them. Harry doesn’t let me sleep on the ride home even though his body is warm and steady beside me. I barely know where I am.

Harry’s POV:

I keep telling myself she would most likely be fine, just like the doctor reassured me but it’s hard not to beat myself up.

I shouldn’t have let her get that drunk, especially upset. I shouldn’t have gotten in her space and caused her to tumble back. I should have done something else.

The guilt is added to when I think of how I spoke to the doctor, demanding they do every scan and not to skip any. I hated who I became sometimes, when I pulled the famous card, but I thought it was necessary right now. Even y/n would give me a pass for using it.

I can’t stop replaying the thud as her head hit the hardwood floor, her eyelids fluttering as I rushed to her, her slack face when she lost consciousness for a moment.

It’s been hours since we came in. The doctor finally heads my way.

“Mr. Styles, your girlfriend is alright,” he holds up his hands before I’m fully standing.

I may have had to say she was my girlfriend after they wouldn’t let me have any say tonight…

“She’ll be alright, you did the right thing getting her here right away.”

“But?”

“No but,” he smiles. “Obviously it’s serious she has a moderate concussion but if she doesn’t exasperate any symptoms—takes it easy the next couple weeks, she’ll be right as rain. We can discharge her once the neurologist confirms. She’s just finishing with another patient right now-“

“She should stay overnight,” I cut him off. His cheeriness was starting to irritate me I felt like he wasn’t taking this seriously enough.

“Oh well,” he laughs but I know I’m irritating him right back. “She will be alright. I can provide you and her with a followup plan-“

“Doctor,” I say. “She’s staying overnight. If I need to rent a bed I’ll do that, tell me what I need to do, but she should stay under observation. Get the care she deserves.”

He pursues his lips, and I wait for him to agree.

“Yep,” he sighs. “I’ll tell the nurse. Just follow me and we can sort the details.”

We do that, I even take a selfie for the nurse’s daughter which grates on the doctor’s nerves even more. He leaves shortly after.

I get y/n’s room and walk there slowly, wondering how to apologize. Ever since December we’ve been playing a game of tennis with words and tonight I felt both of us relax onto the same note. Then this.

She’s sleeping when I get to her. My watch says 1am. She looks peaceful and it hurts even more.

The truth was despite acting like I didn’t, I did like Y/N but she was complicated, and the more I tried to untangle her web the more sticky things became for both of us. I didn’t want to make more mistakes than I have in the past so I’d kept my distance. Even if it hurt both of us.

Tonight was good though. Until it wasn’t. This was why I shouldn’t blur lines. You would think I’d have learned that by now.

I step by her bed, hesitating. Someone has wiped the remains of her makeup off and she looks so much younger. Like a sleeping cherub. My heart gives a squeeze.

I push back a strand of her hair, my hand wanting to do something. I settle for taking her hand in mine, it’s not the first time I’ve held it but like it always does, a flood of warmth rushes through me.

I never understood Victorian romances until her; just touching her hand got my blood pumping.

With a stroke of my thumb over her knuckles, she stirs. I freeze.

Her eyes flicker open, “Hey?”

My voice disappears. There’s too much that I want to say and nothing I’m allowed to say. Maybe a sorry. I open my mouth but she squeezes my hand. I forgot I was still holding hers.

“So much for doing nothing huh?” She cracks a smile and it breaks the marble I’d become encased in. I laugh and collapse onto the sliver of the bed.

“We should never do nothing again.”

“Nope,” she smiles, closing her eyes again.

“Y/N I’m really sorry for tonight. I feel awful-“

Her mouth parts. She was asleep.

I want to sit here with her until she wakes again, until the doctors kick us out. Something about seeing her so vulnerable here makes me want to confess the thing that’s been lodged in my chest for a long time.

I release her hand and move away from the bed. This was dangerous. Maybe I could wait in the waiting room until she’s released. Then take her home.

Something vibrates. It’s not my phone, and then I notice the purse I’d brought with us. Y/N’s.

I peek inside for the phone and her fiancé’s face takes up the screen. He looks younger. And then I remember, it’s like stepping out of the fog this night had put me in and into reality.

I pick up.

“Y/N it’s nearly 2 in the morning just tell me you’re alright? You haven’t been answering your texts I-“

“Hi,” I clear my throat and the line goes dead silent. I decide to continue. “Hey uh this is Harry. Styles. Uhm, don’t panic or anything because she is okay but she’s in hospital and-“

“What?” He comes back with a boom. “Why is she there what happened? Which hospital?”

I tell him which one, explain she bumped her head and I had to take her here. That the doctors said she would recover and be herself again soon. He simply swears and tells me he’d be there soon.

This was Y/N’s life. This was the right thing to do. Still, I stay in the room with my head in my hands and think about the whole evening again and again.

“Just tell me the bloody room…I don’t care about the time…”

The voice travels through as doors open and close in the hall and I look out. Grayson. Like a pitbull. I can see him through the rectangular window demanding to see Y/N.

I open the swinging doors and his nostrils flare as he spots me.

“Why the hell is he allowed in and not me?” He continues his tirade. “Does hospital policy not matter when it comes to the rich and famous now? I want to see her doctor and-“

The nurse turns to me, annoyed but before she can ask the question the doctor is out.

“What’s all this? Do you know the time sir, please follow me and we can talk-“

“I don’t want to fucking follow you. I want him gone and I want to see my fiancee.”

Looks are exchanged between the doctor and the nurse, finally landing on me. I imagine what they’re thinking—just another homewrecking famous rockstar, do we tell the fiancé or act cool?

“He should be able to see her,” I say in an even tone. I can feel the eyes on me, especially the laser beams from Gray.

“I thought-“

“Okay. Visitor pass him and let him in,” the doctor cuts his nurse off as she stares at me. Maybe her daughter wouldn’t get that photo tonight after all, and instead be told to pick better role models. It doesn’t matter to me. Not tonight.

I watch Gray get sorted, watch him walk down and to Y/N’s room. To his fiancée’s room.

I wonder how he feels, fighting with her last night just for y/n to end up here tonight. I wonder if that’s why he was so vocal tonight—the guilt.

But I suspected he was the kind of man that called himself easy-going and only got this raucous when another man was threatening his public image. It was pretty clear the hospital staff thought we had some pseudo-relationship arrangement. I don’t think Duran was daft enough to miss that.

Plus, I’d been the one to bring her here not him.

With a big sigh I take my phone out to call a taxi. It was my turn to go home.

I text Y/N from the car, tell her to rest over the weekend and let me know how she feels Monday morning. She could take the whole week off if she wanted but I also knew her and knew she would try to come back asap.

I try to piece back the marble armour I wore before tonight, it’s ill-fitting and hurts to get on but I do it anyway. This was why I couldn’t be the person Y/N wanted me to be; I tried to mix parts of my life together and it would only end with shite.

Y/N’s POV:

I don’t know who this man in front of me was. Or actually, I hadn’t seen him a long time.

I’d been discharged from the hospital on Saturday morning with odd looks all around. Maybe because Harry brought me in? And ever since, Grayson has been doting on me. Doting.

“Did you want anything specific?” Gray stands at the foot of the bed, asking me what he should make me for breakfast. The last time he made me a special breakfast was…last summer?

“I wouldn’t say no to pancakes?” I reply. “I looove your chocolate chip pancakes.”

“I’ll get it started,” he walks over to kiss my temple and leaves.

The weirdest part is that I feel weird; I don’t know why but Gray doting on me like this made me feel claustrophobic and…weird!

I look out the window to the overcast sky. Same, I think. At least for a Sunday, it felt fitting.

I pick up my phone and check the last response from Harry. Since I got discharged he’d been texting me to see how I was feeling. I think he was feeling guilty even though I told him it wasn’t his fault.

I tried not to drink when I was upset because back in uni it led to some shitty situations but the other night I’d overstepped my rule and done this anyway. And paid for it. I should have known better. And after the absolute misery of yesterday’s aftermath—the migraine and the vertigo and the completely lack of appetite, I don’t think I’ll be doing that again. Ever.

Today I feel a lot better. I still have a headache and I’m looking forward to breakfast with my painkiller, but the light doesn’t hurt as much and the nausea only comes back when I do too much.

You: I’ll be back in no time. Feeling better

Harry: I want you to feel the best so I’m banning you from working until Wed. And that’s conditional on you feeling better

Y: Doc said I can resume a lowkey version of my life after 48hrs

H: I didn’t like that doc. take my advice instead

Y: when did you get your md

H: same time you got yours

Y: I have an md?

H: being stubborn 101

Y: your jokes are a lot better when you text

H: cuz you’re not distracted by my face

Y: ooookay I’m no longer giving you the platform byeee

He was sassy, apparently. I never got this side of him before.

I read through the convo again and smile. But it hits me that it sounded like flirting. And that would be incredibly inappropriate. So I shove my phone in my bedside drawer and inch out of bed to join Gray.

We spend the day talking about a lot, but not about what we should talk about. Which, with the way I was feeling, was fine by me. At the same time it felt like we were both politely playing a role neither of us could put our hearts into. It felt shitty.

Gray has a session around 4 and I crawl back into bed, putting on a romcom I’ve watched a million times for comfort.

My body feels heavy and it has nothing to do with the concussion. The last couple days and my current relationship with Gray casts a shadow over my thoughts. I felt like making any decision was like wading through quicksand and running away just sounded better.

I rub my temples, hoping like a genie’s lamp, I could get an omnipotent spirit cast out and grant me easy wishes. I’d wish for things to go back to normal, for my heart not to be such a wretched thing. For clarity.

I pick up my phone and scroll to the one person I had run away from and have missed since. I didn’t talk to her very often but I thought I could use her no-nonsense approach.

My mom frets when I tell her what had happened. She goes quiet as I tell her I’d gotten drunk to forget about the troubles in my relationship.

“Relationships go through a lot of phases. It’s like going through those cave tunnels all made of rock and you gotta squeeze really tight sometimes just to fit through and continue on.”

“That is an amazing comparison mom, but I don’t know if this is one of those times. It feels like Gray’s already given up on us.”

“Well it’s been a long time he’s waited.”

“But he never said. He never talked to me.”

She sighs. “Your Grayson sure is a contemplative son of a bitch isn’t he?”

I laugh a little too hard and feel a pulse in my head. “I know. But then today he was so dang sweet—since I got home. He was so overprotective. And he made me breakfast mom and it made me realize I haven’t had that Gray in a long time.”

She’s silent on the other end. She knew there was more. How did I ever think, as a teen, my mom didn’t understand me? I think I just never understood her.

“But it felt weird.” I continue. “I feel horrible for saying it but I felt weird!”

“Was there heart?” She asks gently.

There wasn’t.

That’s what it was. And my heart weeps. All those actions without feelings.

“Have you thought about coming home?” Mom asks when the silence stretches. She always asked and I was the worst daughter in the world for never going back. The last time was when I graduated, for 2 weeks in which my family drove me crazy and I had been crazy in love with Gray and eager to get back to him.

“Maybe,” I close my eyes and slide down into bed.

“Your brother’s new girlfriend reminds me of that friend you had where she came on our camping trip and cried the whole time? What was her name?”

“Deanna? Mom I stayed friends with her all through high school! She was just very anxious.”

“I know! His girlfriend’s always darting about, jumping at tiny things. Reminds me of her.”

“Well Jace better be treating her right.”

“He does,” mom’s voice raises. “You should see them together. It’s cute but they’re still teenaged loves so I try not to break his bubble too much.”

Mom had definitely relaxed a lot since I was a teen. She had practically chased my first boyfriend away.

“Remember your first boyfriend?” She asks and I shout how I was remembering that too. We end up talking about old memories, and I feel a little more known and a little less lonely when I hang up.

Gray and I order takeout and I try to watch a movie with him but the strain on my eyes gets too much. I tell him I was going to bed and insist that he stays and finishes. I didn’t feel like watching him play boyfriend.

I’m eager to get back to work, for next week when I can go to Scotland for the MV. The eagerness comes from guilt but I carry both as I fall asleep.

***

I feel like a kid at Disneyland. Or maybe a Disney adult. Either way, I’m blown away getting to watch this MV come to life.

It’s long hours, a lot of waiting, and some shouting. But everything else is magic.

I came back to work last Thursday and other than an ear-splitting headache on the flight and a low-grade one when I stared at a screen too long, I was on my way to normal. When I got back to work Harry kept making excuses for me so I could work from the office but I refused to be treated differently and eventually he relented.

“It’s so freaking cold!” I jump up and down beside Harry by the cliffside. He’s just wrapped up a scene and the crew was taking a look at the footage to see if they needed anything more in this spot.

“Why don’t you put on more layers? Do you want an extra coat the crew might have-“

“No!” I continue wriggling around. “I’m heading back to the car in a few. This is an amazing view.”

“Isn’t it,” Harry turns to the sea that’s churning away much like my own heart these days. It feels calming to see it physically somewhere else.

We stand in silence except for my occasional teeth chattering and stare out to the view.

“Have you seen more of it?” Harry motions to the cameras. “What do you think?”

On this trip I’ve been giving my honest opinion, and I know I’ve offended Harry at least once but I didn’t come all the way here for my dream experience only to stroke his ego.

I tell him my take. We talk about the overall storyline about belonging and sacrifice until we’re interrupted with two hands holding out hot teas.

“You both looked cold,” the woman says. She was another assistant on set and I’m not sure what to do being waited on as a PA myself.

“Oh, thank you!” I make sure she knows I appreciate it. “That’s…that’s super kind thanks!”

She throws us both a smile and I stare at my cup, the heat tingling on my cold fingertips.

“Friendship and belonging yeah,” Harry starts up again.

“Yeah but also I like how you—your character, whatever, knows when it’s time to leave for his better growth. Sacrifice with his friend and sacrifice with the only home he’s known. Plus that’s a comfortable outfit.”

I tap a button on Harry’s jumpsuit. He grins. “You can have it.”

“I would be drowning in that you’re a lot taller.”

“We can have it altered,” he says. A shiver runs through me at we. I blame it on the cold.

I sip the tea now that it’s not scalding and find it’s a lot cooler. The open air, I guess.

“So you really love all this,” Harry says. “You weren’t joking about that excitement.”

“No I told you!” I flash to the night we did “nothing” which feels long ago. “I have a vivid imagination when it comes to music and I spent any spare courses on film so now I can interpret the heck out of any song and music video like my life depends on it.”

“We should get you back there,” he motions to the crew. “Get you on board.”

“Would I get the little clipboard and clapper?”

“Yeah!”

“Goals,” I sigh.

Little did I know, by Saturday as we’re filming our final scene one of the crew members hands me the clapper. He tells me I’m supposed to cut the final scene. I stare at him, thinking I misheard.

The clapboard hangs between us. He shakes it a little and I take it. It’s heavier than I thought.

“Harry asked if you can cut for the final scene, see the man behind the camera? He’ll look to you and give you the nod. Then you step in front and just do the thing.”

“Oh…” I’m still staring at the thing in my hand. My palms feel sweaty like it’s going to crash to the ground and break in two but that thought gets me to hold it closer. “Thanks.”

“Yep,” the guy walks away and I stare at the scene being filmed. Slowly I walk closer to the cameraman and he glances at me, notices the clapper, and smiles holding up two fingers.

He whispers something to someone beside him and they change the lighting. Harry walks off “screen” and I try to catch his eye to show him what I had. We catch it briefly and he winks before walking back onto the screen.

Oh my god! My heart is racing as I hold it in my hands. I had to chill. Or I’m gonna make a mess of things. It’s just a clapperboard and you’re saying one word!

Two minutes. I manage to calm down enough and when I get the signal I step in front of the camera and, as I see it later on, with the biggest grin on my face I clap down and yell “cut!”

Harry lets out a whoop and the crew cheers as the filming wraps up. I’m sure my eyes are wide as saucers as I go to Harry. He puts an arm around me and pulls me in, laughing because I tell him my heart is racing and how does he do tours when just that made me shaky.

“It gets easier,” we walk now with his arm around my shoulder. “One day you’ll be behind the camera shouting at me to move places.”

“Oooh getting to boss you around and get paid for it?” I look up at him and my breath catches because he’s handsome at every bloody angle. “Sign me up.”

He let me go and gives me a few tsks. Then he gets his phone and tells me to pose with the clapper and I do it happily. The picture shows a grinning girl with pure delight on her face.

“I’ll put that as your contact photo right,” Harry says as he gets into a jacket. “And that way at least when you call me with bad news I get to see a smile beforehand.”

“Har har,” I roll my eyes but I don’t hate the idea.

A lot of the crew decide to go out for drinks and dinner and Harry passes but I decide to go. I’d met some friendly faces and I would miss working with them, miss the overall energy, when we got back to London.

As I fall asleep that night, full and content, I realize I hadn’t texted Gray all day. I wake to check my phone and see he’d sent a text a few hours ago.

Sorry I was out for lunch with the crew. Babe it was sooooo fun I can’t wait to show you pictures when I get home.

I read the rest of his message asking how I was. I tell him my headache was gone and ask him about his week but I’ve fallen asleep before he can respond.

***

The morning I have to leave for tour I wake up way too early. Too much nervous excitement. I’d already brushed and checked my luggage was packed before crawling back into bed waiting for Gray to wake.

I watch him sleep, my eyes following the familiar contours of his face. We’d been making an effort at rebuilding the relationship since we agreed we at least had to give it a try after I got home from Scotland a month ago. On one hand it feels like starting a new relationship and also breathing easier because we were both on the same page. On the other, we’d finally started planning the wedding!

I would miss him, nearly 3 weeks away which is the longest we’ve been apart since we got together. Then I’d be home for 2 weeks, and away for the last week before Harry finishes with a couple shows in London. It was going to be epic and crazy as exhausted as I’ve been.

I huddle close to Gray and he stirs slightly but I kiss his neck to wake him.

“Hey,” he mumbles in his sleep.

“Morning,” I press another kiss to his face.

“What time?” He moves his head to kiss me back.

“Hmmm half past 7?”

He grumbles about it being so early but it stops shortly after with both of my legs on either side of him and my hair curtaining our faces.

“M’gonna miss your snooty face,” I say with another kiss. He finally opens his eyes and his hand comes up to hold my chin.

“I’ll be the one here missing you.”

“I’ll call every chance I get.”

“You’ll get to see so many new cities,” he says.

“Barely but I’m gonna try to make the most of it,” the travel schedule was hectic but I know there were a couple slower days I could use to explore cities. If I wasn’t completely exhausted.

“You’ll have a lot of fun,” he pushes my hair behind my ear.

“Remember Josie’s coming this weekend to stay the week.” Gray’s sister had taken the opportunity of a semi-empty flat to stay here while she studied for mid-terms. I had encouraged it so Gray felt less lonely.

“She’s gonna drive me crazy,” he huffs.

“Just behave,” I warn him.

“I don’t know how,” he smiles, rolling us around so he’s on top and showing me what misbehaving means. I don’t mind it a bit.

After a quick shower together we head out to the airport, Harry offered to pick me up on his way but I wanted to make sure I spent as much time with Gray as possible so he doesn’t feel like I was leaving him like before. I hoped he knew, at least, the effort I was making.

***

Stockholm, Hamburg, Oslo, and Copenhagen in one week. It was exhilarating and exhausting and hectic and so fulfilling.

I had seen Harry at small shows before but on the big stage he has a presence with a capital P. It’s amazing watching him perform and dance and be charming all over. He could be cheeky yet command the crowd at the same time. And despite all these sides he’s never inauthentic.

For the first time I’m able to take somewhat of a backseat. He already had his manager, tour manager, stylist, and tour chef with him to manage most aspects I would regularly. I became sort of an extra hand when I wasn’t having sit-down hours. That’s what I called the times I was sitting on the laptop sorting out future timelines for Harry’s life (and my wedding).

But I loved it. I’d pick a cafe close to our hotel and spend a few hours working. I’d call Gray during these times and if he was free we’d catch up on all I saw and he’d share stories with me until Josie crashed the conversation with stories of her own.

My eye bags require more concealer than usual and my body begs for nutrition but otherwise I love every second.

I’m back from my sit-down hours and get off the lift. Harry and his team were placed in the same hotel just down the hall from each other. As I approach my own door one of Harry’s band mates rushes out of his door looking stressed.

“He’s in a mood,” she huffs. “Don’t go in there.”

“Did something happen?” I ask.

She shrugs, “he gets this way. Usually at the start of tour I don’t know why. Kinda snappy just…give him space.”

I do as she says but the next morning as we wait to board our early flight to Paris he continues to be a dick to everyone.

“Maybe take a nap on the flight Haz,” one of his bandmates suggest. “We’re all bloody tired don’t be such a grump.”

“I don’t need a bloody nap stop treating me like a child.”

“What to do when you act like one.”

“You know what-“

“Woah hey c’mon.”

I startle at the commotion, I was starting to doze off but Harry rushing out of his seat and someone else stepping between him and Mitch wakes me entirely.

“Let’s stand there get some space.” Niji recommends.

Everyone follows the group away and it’s Harry, myself, and my bag left.

He glances at me, “Don’t you start too.”

“I wasn’t…”

“I could see it in your face.”

“What the hell? I was just napping I don’t even know what’s going on except that you really are being a dick.”

“There you go!” He points. “I knew you wanted to say it.”

“Guess I’m joining the others…” I pick up my bag and walk to everyone else. They’re all venting their frustrations for Harry and comfort me that he was an asshole to everyone.

It gets worse on the flight when our pilot announces we couldn’t land in Paris.

“What’s going on?” I ask our hostess.

“The weather, we apologize for the inconvenience folks but there is high winds and a lot of fog so it’s not safe to fly.”

“I have a show tonight,” Harry stands and starts to advance on the poor woman. “I need to be in Paris before 4 where are we landing?!”

“Sir we’ll be landing in the Lille airport. This is good because we’re only a few hours from the city-“

“For fuck’s sake,” Harry runs his hand through his hair.

“I understand,” the woman looks back at me and I nod, letting her know I got it.

“Harry we’ll only be delayed by a few hours-“

“I don’t have time for a few hours. We need to set up and run tests in Paris! We were supposed to be there yesterday but somebody booked the wrong shit!”

It was true, his tour manager had booked us for Monday morning rather than Sunday morning but at the time it hadn’t been a big deal since the show was 7 on Monday and we got an extra day to relax. Now it made things more stressful.

“Fuck this,” Harry mutters. The other members on the plane roll their eyes and put on headphones, sighing and looking out the window. It was obvious to everyone but Harry that this was just a minor setback.

I decide to be the idiot who enters the lion’s cage. Harry sits in the back of the plane jiggling his leg and trying to connect his phone to service.

“Are you trying to call Morgan?” I ask.

“No I’m trying to call the pope.”

“He might be sleeping.”

He looks up at me and if I wasn’t aware of how stressed he was I would laugh. Confused doesn’t even cover his expression.

“I don’t have time for this right now, I need to get to the show-“

“We have like a five hour wiggle room it’s just a minor-“

“I can’t perform thrown off like this!”

“There’s no reason to be thrown off!” I try to keep my volume contained but I can feel eyes on my back.

“I don’t need you right now just go.”

“So I guess the one week rule is true.” I mutter.

“What’s that?” He asks with an i-dare-you expression.

“I said the one week rule of you being an asshole on tour, I guess that was true. I wish someone told me I would have skipped it.”

“Well you could have skipped the whole thing and nobody would notice.”

His comeback is muttered but cuts like a machete and I feel like the words were physically slung at me. I stand there stunned, my heart sinking as he continues to fiddle with his phone until the call connects.

The shock wears off quickly leaving me with the familiar heat of anger. This was how I reacted to Harry and his dickish ways. How dare he? Why the fuck does he think it’s okay to treat me like this when he wanted? I clench my fist as his voice rises with Morgan.

But beneath the anger is a raw hurt, his words struck a nerve. The same one Gray had struck once. I was replaceable, and all the efforts I’ve put into my career were unimportant and unappreciated.

I snatch the phone from Harry, annoyed at hearing him talk at Morgan.

“Hey Morgan it’s Y/N, yeah it’s a minor inconvenience but if you can get a bus or something to the airport it should be…”

I look to the hostess and she flashes me two fingers and a shake of her hand.

“About 2 hours to get into the city.” I finish. I nod along to Morgan’s questions and repeat details back. “Yeah just text me on my phone, not Harry’s. We’ll sort this out.”

“Thank you y/n. I’m really glad you’re there today.”

The words are a feather on a pile of nails, it’s nice to hear but Harry’s cruel words still ring in my ear.

I hand the phone back to him, expecting a thank you or an apology, but he just takes it and slinks down in his seat.

“It’s her isn’t it?” Sarah gets up on her seat on her knees to look back at Harry. I pause as I walk up the aisle. Is was who?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry mutters with his eyes glued to his screen.

“It is,” someone else says.

“Who?” Claire asks.

“Don’t take his mood personally,” Sarah says to me. “Paris is a touchy city for him.”

“Do you guys ever shut up?” Harry asks.

“No that’s why we’re your crew,” Mitch responds.

“We understand,” Sarah continues. Who was she talking about!? “Just don’t take it out on us. It’s not nice.”

Harry doesn’t respond but I sense a deflating happening on his side. Sarah’s words had gotten through to him but they’d just made me super curious.

I get filled in as we wait at the airport for our bus—Morgan had saved the day.

I hear about Harry’s french lover and how he got his heart broken a couple years ago. How the last time they were in France he had disappeared for a day and they’re all sure he visited her. How he can’t go to Paris without getting in a mood, either because he doesn’t get to see her or he’s anxious about seeing her.

“That’s like a city-specific booty-call.”

“Kinda,” Sarah laughs. “But I think he grew really attached to her so it’s a bit—he’s coming back.”

Harry stomps back to where we are, a tray of coffee in his hands. His team accepts it without a word. The world’s most famous non-verbal apology.

I watch him wearily. I still wanted a verbal apology from him, was that crazy? What he said was deeply hurtful. And hearing about his French lover makes me feel a way that I don’t like so I shut it out. I stick to the anger instead. It was easier.

He starts to warm up as we board the bus, cracking jokes with his band. I pick a seat near the front and stay there with my headphones. Aside from answering Morgan’s texts I pretend to be asleep. Eventually I do.

Someone flicks my hat, “C’mon sleepyhead! We’re in the city of love.”

“Wha?” There’s a crick in my neck and I feel rusty. But Harry’s right, we’d landed in Paris. He hovers above my seat with a jovial smile but it dies the longer I don’t return it. Serves him right. He doesn’t get to be cruel and wipe it away with coffee and a joke.

He gets the hint and boards off. I grab the last of the bags and join the group in the lobby where Morgan greets Harry like his long lost son.

“The trials aren’t over just yet,” he cringes. “I don’t know why Paris keeps fucking with me but we’re booked tight for rooms.”

“What does that mean?” Harry asks.

“Uhm well,” Morgan clears his throat. “The hotel overbooked. We have 3 rooms between the 8 of us. Luckily I have a mate who lives in town so I’ll crash at his. The rest of you need to share.”

“Morgan you’re fucking with me,” someone groans.

“No I’m sorry. I booked 5 with an en-suite but they screwed up. They’re refunding us half—I fought for that at least. I can use that to put others in another hotel if you’d like but so far I’ve only managed one room with two doubles.”

“Claire and I can share,” Sarah says.

“Good, Mitch you good with the boys?”

“I’ve slept in worse places.”

“Uh y/n…would you like me to book you an extra room somewhere? I don’t want you to be far from the team-“

“She’ll stay with me.” Harry says. “I’m performing tonight and then we’re moving to Amsterdam tomorrow afternoon so…”

I squirm a little as all eyes fall to me. Cool. Casual. “Sure.”

“Sorted! Let’s get these bags up and out of the way. I’ll have a car waiting down here in a half hour so you can all freshen up and meet me again.”

We trudge along and get off on our respective floors.

“The truth is,” Harry says as we scan ourselves into our room. “I’m probably not even gonna use the bed for the night so it’s all yours.”

“Oh,” I look around the room. It’s got a french touch and a lush queen in the middle. I could deal with not having to share it. I’m sure my fiancé back home would be happier too. Even though I want to ask why I don’t. “Okay.”

We settle our things in silence and a part of me wants to break it and start talking about the ride and Paris but I’m still not over his earlier behaviour so I continue giving the bare minimum. He doesn’t seem to care.

We head off for tests and I end up falling asleep in one of the booths. The tiredness was really creeping up. I could sleep through all the noise the band was making.

A particularly loud screeching from feedback wakes me up. I look down to the group, everyone’s mostly broken up while tech crew tapes down some wires and connects equipment. Harry sits on the edge of the stage, swinging his feet and texting away at his phone. He’s different from the grump this morning. He’s lighter.

Charlie catches me looking and waves, I wave back. There’s a pit in my stomach that grows heavier as the day passes into night.

Paris is not the loudest but super engaged. Everyone has some reference to Harry adorned on their clothing or their face and I can tell Harry has a special connection to the group.

“And finally,” Harry says into the mic. “This is a special song for my French friends. Tonight has been a blessing and I want to merci beaucoup for showing up!”

The crowd cheers as the intro to his song comes on. I listen to the lyrics for the first time since hearing the song last year and connect the dots to what Sarah said earlier. Maybe this was the girl. Maybe this was why he wasn’t sleeping at the hotel tonight.

As we’re leaving the venue and I’m going through a mental list of everything we could have forgotten, we spot a familiar face around back.

“Riley?” Mitch spots him first. “Is that you mate?”

“Hey,” Riley like, Harry’s old assistant Riley is standing with a couple other people who are having a smoke. He squashes his and greets the band who apparently still feel fondly when it comes to him. He looks the exact same but my feelings towards him are curdled after knowing what he’s like and how he left us high and dry.

That leaves Harry and I still hovering by the entrance alone, staring at the reunion by the time Riley comes up to us. I guess the band knew his friends because they get to chatting. I remember then, Riley ditched Harry to work for one of his friends. Must be a small world.

“Why the long face you two, c’mon still not holding a grudge are we?”

“Riley,” Harry addresses him. I stay silent, watching Riley from where I stand behind Harry.

“Nice to see Y/N’s still sticking around. How are you liking tour life?”

“Did you come to the show?” I find my voice.

“Yeah,” he nods all friendly like this was casual and he’s done nothing wrong ever. “I might be biased because I worked for the guy but Harry Styles is one of my top artist. And I’m in Paris until the Fall so why not come support him.”

“Well,” Harry says in the same deadpan voice. “Thanks for the support Riley.”

Riley glances over at him, smug. He knows he’s annoying Harry. So maybe I wasn’t the only one who got enjoyment out of doing that.

“Oh c’mon you’re still upset with me jumping ship? It’s been months! Y/N we’re cool right-“

Riley moves to walk past Harry and to me but Harry side-steps to stay in his way. I look at Harry. So does Riley, confusion sliding away to amusement.

“Oh I see,” he steps back, arms crossed. “Harry you sly dog you did it again.”

“We’re going now,” Harry says. “Try not to show up at any other shows.”

Harry tried to leave and I take the few steps to follow but Riley starts again.

“So y/n you fell for his trick too? I’m disappointed I thought you were immune.” Riley continues. “How’d he get you to the bedroom? Lots of booze? Or did you not even make it to the bedroom? Was it being treated like shit that did it for you?”

“What?” Now in the middle, I look between the two, wondering how this conversation took such a bizarre turn.

“You have some obsession with me Riley?” Harry steps back towards us. “Because you sure enjoy making up stories in your head with me starring in it. Don’t rope y/n into them either.”

“Not all stories,” Riley stays smug. “Some of them I’ve seen with my own eyes.”

They had to be talking about the last PA. The story Riley told me. Which means he thinks I…

“You really should watch what you talk about,” Harry reminds him.

Riley turns his attention to me, “Y/N I thought I warned you good enough. But I guess you put out as easily as the last one.”

“Riley whatever drama you’re trying to-“

“Mate,” Harry gets in Riley’s face so he can’t even look at me. I go quiet. “Get the fuck out of my sight before I get security to kick you out permanently.”

“Being the knight in shining armour doesn’t really suit you Haz,” Riley says. With one final judgemental look thrown my way he walks away. I have to lay a hand on Harry’s arm just to keep him from lunging at him but as soon as my hand makes contact he brushes me away.

This whole interaction was ego-bruising. “Why did he think-“

“Ignore him.” Harry cuts me off, his back still to me. His band, having watched the final scene unfold, now awkwardly shuffles back to us. “You okay?”

“Yeah but why-“

“Good.”

He cuts me off from asking anything and I don’t get to push because the group tries to defuse the situation by changing the subject. That includes the girls inviting me for drinks at their favourite parisian place. Harry disappears and so do those answers.

I try to poke whether the girls at dinner knew anything about his last PA but they barely met her. So I’m forced to eat oysters when they find out I’d never had them and the subject changes quickly to new and other things.

“So oysters thumbs up or down?” I’m asked as I slowly eat another.

“Weird texture…ehh?” I hover my thumb in the middle.

“Well too bad your partner—what’s his name again?” They ask. I tell her. “Ooh good name. Too bad Grayson isn’t here to cash in on all these oysters.”

They laugh and I think I’m not drunk enough to laugh as much with.

It’s the wee hours of the morning by the time we get back to the hotel. I crash alone as soon as my head hits the pillow.

***

After three weeks of tour I’m ecstatic to get back home. I wanted to sleep in the same bed for more than a day, I wanted a shower with even temperature, and I wanted a home-cooked meal.

And I wanted Gray.

I even catch an earlier flight—the night before rather than the next morning. I build up surprising Gray so much that I end up being the one who’s surprised when I come home to an empty flat.

I double check I’d set my phone back to the right time but it’s nearly 11. He must be out with friends, not a client.

I want to call him but still hold the idea of a surprise so I take a shower instead, put a load of laundry in, and make myself a sandwich. I crawl into bed at 1, still no Gray.

I end up tapping through our friends’ stories and find him in one. At least I knew where he was. But 2/3 photos I can find of him, Bex is standing too close for comfort.

I can tell by the photos there’s nothing going on. From his end. The most contact they have is his arm around her shoulder but for some reason all of this makes me mad. I’d broken it down to him that he couldn’t talk with people who had a thing for him because they would only give biased advice. But he didn’t listen. He said I was reading into it too much. And here she was, gazing up at him in every damn photo.

I hate that I wasn’t even home for a couple hours and already found something to annoy me.

I must have fallen asleep shortly after because I wake to poking on my side.

“Y/n? Is that really you? Y/n? Y/n?”

Gray.

“Hi,” I turn in bed. “I’m home early.”

“Shit!” He stands and sways back slightly. Wow, he was pissed. I hadn’t seen him this inebriated in a hot minute. “You didn’t say!”

“I know I-“

“I thought I imagined you.”

“Nope all here,” I grit my teeth. Why was I annoyed at my boyfriend for having a life, I scold myself.

Why is he so drunk and is this a new thing or did he only get this way cuz I’m not around?

“You finally came back to me,” he slurs. He smells like a brewery as he climbs into bed and I wish I could force a shower on him but I get swept up in his arms. “Hey you were right by the way.”

“About?”

“About.”

“Gray! What was I right about?”

“I’m getting to it! You. Were right. About Bex.”

“H-how do you know?” Weird coincidence. Or not?

“Sheshe she tried to kiss me!” He falls back laughing in bed. “I said nooo cuz I have a fiancée. Y/N. Oops. She was maaad.”

My heart drops. I knew it. That little bitch! And she had to go and try to kiss my man when he’s drunk! I officially didn’t like her. And the story itself adds to my irritation.

“Wow. Crazy. I’m tired as hell so I’m going to bed.”

I turn and leave my back to Gray. I didn’t want to see him this drunk, this chill about someone I warned him about trying to kiss him.

He splays on the bed where he is, draping an arm over me and pretty soon I hear his even breathing. That annoys me too, that he could fall asleep so quick. His arm is a weight over my body and I feel like I’m sinking into the bed and out of view.

***

It’s like Grayson and I have forgotten how to live with each other.

What starts out as minor annoyances turn into bickering pretty quickly. Our 1 bedroom flat begins to feel cramped and I desperately try to cling onto the idea of us because I can’t fathom us fizzling out like this but my fingernails are raw from scraping threads.

Work is the easiest it’s been in a while. With no set working hours I just spend a few hours everyday doing admin and running errands. Otherwise, unless somebody calls me I’m free.

I thought it would be great. So much free time with Gray, we could continue planning the wedding and catch up again. But he busies himself with work, and when we go on dates he doesn’t make much of an effort to talk. It’s like getting to know him all over again except he’s a broodier version of himself. It makes me mad and I end up picking fights.

I book brunch with some of the girls on the last Saturday I’m home, thinking it might help to have space from Gray and see other people. I thought everything would be fine. And it is, on a surface level—they treat me perfectly normal.

Except the only time they gave me space to talk about myself went something like this,

“So Y/N how are you? Busy touring how is that?”

“Oh yeah it was great! Really taxing but fulfilling too. I went to so many cities I haven’t visited even though I’ve been in London for like 7 years? Copenhagen was one of my fave-

“Ooh. Yeah I really want to visit Copenhagen this summer.”

“Oh I love Copenhagen…”

And I was officially asked out of sharing my own life. The rest of brunch was me reacting to everyone else’s stories and having the subject change quickly after I brought up anything about myself. When I mentioned Gray casually, I could feel the judgement. It’s like they were waiting on me to complain about him so they could pounce. It’s a weird and tiring energy.

As we all say our goodbyes I manage to catch Rebecca alone.

“Hey Bex,” I stop her on the edge of the group. “I know we haven’t talked much lately but I just want to say I don’t appreciate the moves you’re making on Gray.”

She raises a brow, “moves?”

“He told me you tried to kiss him. Those kinds of moves.”

Her face pinches. “Well someone has to make some.”

“Excuse me?” She tries to walk away but I rush to step in front of her.

“It’s no secret you and Gray are on the road to a breakup,” she has the audacity to look judgey in that moment and I want to slap the look off her face.

“What the fuck do you know about me and Gray? Back. Off.”

“Hey what’s going on?” One of our other friends drifts towards us and I notice they’re all looking our way.

“Just a friendly chat,” I say with sarcasm you can’t miss. At the same time Bex responds, “Y/n’s being delusional.”

I was going to get physical, I step back towards her but our friends get between us. I think they knew uni me, and knew I wasn’t afraid of confrontation.

“What the fuck y/n?” I was so tired of the look on their faces, like I was crazy.

“She tried to kiss Gray!” I reveal. “Last week! I’m just telling her to back off and I have every right to!”

It’s news to them. They turn to Bex who’s fidgeting with her sweater as a flush creeps up her neck.

“I-I he did! He tried to kiss me!”

I snort, “I don’t have time for your bullshit Rebecca. I’ve gotta go.”

“Oh yeah we all know you don’t have time y/n, you’re so busy these days.”

“Bex!” Someone scolds her.

“Somebody better teach her hand to keep her hand over her mouth because I will get through all of you if it means getting to her. You know you guys don’t know shit about my life. And you don’t even care to these days! Just because Gray told his sob side you guys treat me like-like shit!”

“That’s not true-“

“It is! You don’t even know my side! And I don’t care to explain because you lot are supposed to be our friends, not the judge and jury of my relationship.”

They stare blankly at me and nobody denies it so I continue: “I try so hard to stay involved in your lives knowing I can’t make it to half of our parties, I’m always messaging you guys and trying to stay on top of your socials to know what’s going on in your lives. I feel like I make all the effort and I’m just made the pariah.”

It feels good getting it off my chest. It feels amazing. I feel like I’m breathing an actual lungful of air now.

“We’re sorry if we made you feel that way.” I look at who’s said this. One of my oldest friends from uni. I scoff.

“You’re sorry if you made me feel that way?! I just said you did!”

“Sorry,” she says, quieter.

“Y’know it’s…it’s disappointing. I thought, when we became best friends first year of uni nothing could shake the bond we had. Apparently a man you met 3 years ago who vented to you about your best friend was just the thing.” All their faces are small and nobody makes eye contact with me. “Anyway, I do have to go. I have an appointment. Let’s not do this again.”

I walk away, proud of myself for saying what I had to and getting it off my chest. For sticking up for myself.

But the farther away I get, the more the adrenaline crashes through me and I end up walking onto the tube on shaky legs and collapsing in my seat. The reality of what’s happened falls into my lap and I see a bunch of burned bridges.

I spend a couple extra hours out after my appointment. I’m not going anywhere in particular, I let my feet carry me through the city as my mind continues to whir.

Harry texts me, asking me to stop by his place before I fly back for tour tomorrow evening. Apparently the concierge needed all his mail picked up and he needed a few of the items. It annoys me that he waited last minute to ask.

When I get home at 4, Gray’s vacuuming the flat. He stops it when I come in.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“How was brunch?”

It’s the way he asks. I know he knows. Which means a group chat exists with our friends and him without me. It feels like another betrayal. Who keeps their partner out deliberately? Who opens up their relationship like a hockey net, open for anyone to take shots at?

“Why’re you asking?” I feel another fight coming.

“I can’t ask you how brunch went?”

“Did you hear something? Let me guess, did Bex snitch?”

“No, chill out why would Bex snitch?”

“Grayson,” I look at him deadpan. “Don’t bullshit me. If you have any respect for me, which I know now is not a lot, don’t bullshit me.”

He sighs but doesn’t say anything more. Doesn’t lie and doesn’t tell the truth.

“So?” I ask. “Is there like a group chat or something?”

“Let’s just drop it-“

“No! I’m not dropping this when you brought it up. So is there? Did you disrespect me in front of all our friends by talking shit, and then do it even more by allowing them to ice me out in a group chat you knew I wasn’t part of?”

He doesn’t respond. My temper flares.

“The hurtful part isn’t even not being part of the chat, it’s that you didn’t tell me.”

It makes sense now. I was always initiating birthday messages there or privately, thinking everyone was forgetting to wish each other. Now I know I was public fool number one keeping that convo alive when they were probably all wishing each other elsewhere. God. I was an idiot!

“Look I’m sorry y/n, after you stopped showing up to things they just made a new one so they don’t bother you.”

“Oh is that why? Because that was active up until a few months ago. So according to the timeline it was probably when you fucked up and talked shit about me to all our friends and they decided I was a bitch and they should all cancel me! Well I hope you’re happy Gray!”

“I’m not! I’m sorry I didn’t realize-“

“Stop!” I slam my hand into the wall and it hurts harder than I anticipated but I bite back the pain. “Just admit it! You want to paint me as the bad guy so fucking hard, and I am in some ways I know I’m far from perfect Gray! But instead of talking to me like normal fucking people do, you just iced me out and then isolated me from the only friends I’ve ever made in this stupid fucking city!”

I can’t help the tears now even though I don’t want to cry. I want to rage and scream and throw things about but the hurt is bigger and it bubbles over the pot and sears my heart.

I leave my shopping bags where I’ve dropped them and walk back out of the door before he can come up with a response. I couldn’t stand to look at his face. He’s betrayed me over and over and the whole time I was desperately trying to show him I hadn’t changed and I loved him.

I walk the 40 minute to Harry’s and the early evening air helps me learn how to breathe again. I take in gulps of it and try not to cry. I didn’t want to waste tears on Gray and my stupid friends. I didn’t want to do any of this! I just wanted to press pause on my whole damn life and take a nap.

Outside his building I pull out my phone and make sure I don’t look crazed. My hand is killing me and I ignore the bruising blooming fresh.

The concierge spots me just as I enter, and we make small talk about Harry on tour and his last few shows that would happen in London. I make a note to mention to Harry to send him tickets—apparently his niece listened to him.

He helps me load a cart with Harry’s mail and take it upstairs.

It had been over a month since I’d been in here and it’s weird that it feels comforting. Or maybe that was just after two weeks of feeling like a stranger at home.

Harry’s words on the plane echo back to me. Not that I was appreciated here either.

If there was ever a time to go back home to the States, it would be now. But that felt like running away. I had to sort my life out here before I made any rash decisions.

With a sigh I dump the paper onto the coffee table. After sorting what looked like bills from letters from miscellaneous I spot the two envelopes Harry wanted and put it to the side. I open the boxes next and locate his custom orthopaedic inserts he asked me to grab too.

I take the extra mail to my office to sort out. In the familiar closed quarters where I’d spent too much time in the last year rolling through a hundred phases, my feelings edge out of me. I try to wipe the tears and continue on but I end up pathetically sat over on the chair crying until I can barely breathe.

It’s pathetic because this is the first space I’ve felt I had the space to cry. And it was where I worked. Where, apparently, I wouldn’t even be missed.

New tears. Less breaths.

“Get it the fuck together,” I say between gasps. “That’s. Enough.”

Through my own self-talk I manage to calm down enough to finish the work. It’s half past 8 by the time I get back to the main living area. I get water to rehydrate myself and stay sitting on the couch staring into space for another ten minutes. I don’t think I had any more tears to cry. Just a rock in place of my heart and another bigger one attached to my ankle.

“Okay,” I finally get the courage to head home.

The end isn’t big and explosive. It’s a simple statement: I think we both know what needs to be done now.

I don’t fight him this time. I have no fight left in me. I just nod.

“I’ll sleep on the couch and still drop you off tomorrow,” he reassures me.

“Just sleep in bed,” I couldn’t even muster enough energy for expression. My flat tone is how I felt. “You don’t fit on the couch. And I’ll get myself to the airport.”

“No I’ll take you. I’ve already made the arrangements-“

“You don’t have to worry about me anymore Gray,” I say. He looks crestfallen and it irks me that he does. I didn’t want him to be sad, it was ridiculous but it was.

“Well I’ll take you anyway.” He says then turns back to the TV.

I wash the day off and make sure everything is packed for my early flight tomorrow. As I lay in bed alone I realize this might be the last time I ever sleep here. Like this. I would have to move all my shit out. Oh god, the wedding. I’d have to cancel my dress shopping dates and the cake testing, the invites we were still designing.

We’d only told our friends it was going to be a winter wedding, I’m glad we never gave them a date. Nobody had marked their calendars. Nothing about us would been permanent.

I look down at the simple ring on my hand. Everything but that.

I keep it on.

I’m still awake when Gray comes to bed but I pretend to sleep. My mind can’t stop making lists to answer: what now.

I’m in a fugue state all night and the only thing that clears the fog is the rays of sunshine peeking through the blinds in the morning. I hadn’t slept a wink.

Quiet, so I don’t wake Gray, I get up and dressed. I order a taxi and try not to linger on the hurt of doing this alone. Of Gray waking up to an empty bed.

The flight to Madrid is a couple hours and I miraculously nap through it. Everyone is happy to see me when I get back, especially when I present them with snacks they’d all said they missed from home while we were on tour. With them in hand, I’m an angel in their eyes.

I hand Harry his mail and he stops me. His eyes don’t stop examining my face.

“What happened to your hand?” He asks.

I’d picked up a bandaging kit and ice pack at the airport and with the help of Youtube, wrapped it up. It had started to bruise even worse but I couldn’t be arsed to deal with it even though it hurt. Nothing a few painkillers couldn’t fix.

“I accidentally got it caught in a door,” I lie easily. I had practiced. “It’s nothing.”

“Did you get it checked?”

“No.”

“Make sure you do, tonight’s show.”

“Sure. It’s really nothing though.”

“You sure?” He asks. His gaze is unnerving.

“Mhm,” I nod.

He’s silent, eyes scanning my face. Right as I decide I couldn’t take the scrutiny he asks, “Why were you crying last night?”

I stare, unsure what kind of trick he was playing.

“Sorry.” He laughs to himself. “I have one of those uh, motion sensor cameras in the entryway. I turn it on while I’m away so it sends like, automatic clips if there’s movement. I saw you come in and leave.”

“Oh.” Shit. Think fast. Think fast. “I uhm, got into it with some friends I had a meal with. Y’know…they were being a bit icy cuz of what they’ve heard. I’m over it though.”

“Yeah?” His eyes flicker down to my hand.

“Yeah.” I hold his green eyes for a moment, to reassure him I’m okay. I don’t know why he cares, maybe because I looked like a right mess last night as I left. How embarrassing. But I do my best acting job ever.

Satisfied, he lets me go. I return to the group asking for updates and any stories they wanted to share. Before long I’m laughing along and creeping out of my depressed mood. But something heavier still lingers.

***

TAGLIST: @boomitsallie1 @indierockgirrl @ndunad @jerseygirlinca @sunshinemoonsposts @ninasw0rld @love-letters-to-uranus @mayamonroem @sassamanda77

[fastlikealambo]

Connubium.|| Coriolanus Snow x Black Fem Reader

Chapter Five

table of contents.

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four.

Summary: Stealing from The Capitol is a deadly offense, yet you’ve done it more times than you can count but when you do something you should not have done, Volumnia Gaul decides a fate for you that might just be worse than death.

Notes: This takes place post The Ballad of Songbirds And Snakes and Coryo is in his last year at The University, studying under Dr. Gaul. This will not follow canon, I’m not an expert on all the lore so I apologize if I get things wrong.

Disclaimer: You know Coriolanus is a POS, I know Coriolanus is a POS, please don’t yell at me because this is just a fun little story, something for thee hotties, and  if you feel that strongly against President Snow, please let me know if you’d like me to sign you up for tessarae.

Warnings: violence against reader, gore, blood, injuries, bones being put back in place.

18+ only

Thanks for the love and messages on chapter four! If you want to see chapter six, comment or reblog, feedback makes me want to continue!

As you slept, Coriolanus studied you.

Tucking a stray curl underneath the silk on your hair, he studied your face.  The stressed expression you had concerned him, he fought the urge to smooth the knitted space between your brows.

He could do this every night.

Courtships were quick affairs in The Capitol, arranged and wed within weeks, hours even, depending on the wealth of each party and what could be gained.

A wealthy orphan such as yourself worked in Coryo’s favor, no parents to impress, no dowries, just you and your ability to control a room.

Coriolanus had plans for Panem and he needed someone at his side who could stand with him, without fear.

President Ravinstill represented the victory of war, old and bloated, a reminder of the dark days.

You would be the face of his Panem, bright and beautiful.

Yes, you would do just fine.

The smell of smoke interrupted Coryo’s study and he untangled himself from you to go to the window, throwing open the curtains.

 The sun had yet to come up but a fire in a visible quarter of The Capitol raged, illuminating the sky and from the Plinth’s window he could see multiple hovercrafts carrying water to douse the flames.

    “Coryo?”

You stood next to him, watching the fiery scene and he took your hand in his, rubbing circles on the back of your hand.

A knock on the door brought you both from the window and you opened it to see Mrs. Plinth, a worried expression on her face.

   “There’s been a bombing, it’s all over the news. Peacekeepers want everyone in their own homes within the hour. I’ll get you some food to take home, dears.” She said kindly.

Too quickly you were standing outside, Coryo’s suit jacket draped around your shoulders, waiting for your car.

       “ I was going to ask you to lunch with Tigris and Grandma’am but I think we’ll have to reschedule.” Coryo said.

     “You’ll just have to make it up to me, Coriolanus Snow. If waltzing and a bombing are typical society affairs, I’m eager to see what happens the next time we’re together.”

With a kiss upon your hand, Coriolanus helped you into the car, noticing it was driven by a peacekeeper.

Peacekeepers weren’t usually drivers.

  “Excuse me, if I’m going to meet Dr. Gaul, I’d like to change first.” You said, wanting very much to get out of a dress you’d been in for far too long but the peacekeeper kept driving right past your residence.

   “Where are we going?” You asked but as usual, you were ignored and the car continued past The Corso,eventually coming to a stop outside a familiar looking building.

Even in the dark, you knew where you were and a fear you hadn’t had in years greeted you like an old friend.

The Arena.

A peacekeeper opened the door and three more took hold of you, yanking you of the car. Your claims that you could walk just fine went unheard as they dragged you with purpose into the massive yet crumbling amphitheater.

Nothing could quite prepare you for the scope of it, having only seen it back home on a  tv that turned off and on during the games if you didn’t kick it three times. You couldn’t remember the last time it was used but there you were, taking in the sights while they shoved you through the turnstile.

  “Enjoy the show!” A broken down robotic voice said.

    “My little thief, right on time! Don’t you look pretty?” Dr. Gaul said, pointing to a spot for the peacekeepers to throw you down.

    “What is this, why am I here?” You asked, standing to your feet, looking around at the empty structure.

    “As you well aware, there was an attack on The Capitol this morning, a poorly constructed bomb killed two Capitol citizens. Imagine my surprise when we caught the animal behind this, I found out he’s from your district!”

    “Dr. Gaul, I’m not behind this, you have my parents, I’m already risking everything-

    “Oh no young lady, we know you weren’t behind this, we just need you to clean up a mess for the glory of Panem.”

A familiar voice and the sound of marching feet echoed throughout the arena and out of the shadows strolled President Ravinstill and his guards.

Of course, they would be working together.

  “I believe you’ve already met President Ravinstill so no need for introductions. Gentlemen, if you please!” Dr. Gaul called out and from another corner came muffled screaming.

Two peacekeepers dragged a badly beaten man in front of you, one eye swollen shut, the other widening in recognition.

District 6 was big, but you knew him,  he worked on delivery trains.

 You used to see his children chase after the hefty freighter, waving to him on his route.

  “If you’d be so kind, dear girl.” President Ravinstill said, placing a handgun into your shaking hand.

No, please, no.

   “I don’t want to do this, I don’t need to do this, you have guns, you do it.” You stuttered.

  “Just pretend he’s a morphling, that worked the last time, didn’t it?” Dr. Gaul asked. President Ravinstill walked up behind you and wrenched your hands into position, the gun on the man’s forehead but you dropped the gun, a missed shot ringing in the air.

  “I have a better idea. Let him up, gentlemen.”  Dr. Gaul said and clapped her hands. 

   “Enjoy the show!”

Peacekeepers filed into the arena, blocking off the exits and breaks in the concrete where the floor and tunnels caved in, forming a circle around the perimeter.

A peacekeeper unlocked the cuffed man and heaved him to his feet in front of Dr. Gaul who pointed a gloved hand in your direction.

 “You see her? We’ll pin all of your mess on her and you’ll get to see your family again.  All you have to do is kill her and everything is forgiven. ” Dr. Gaul whispered into his ear. 

Surely he couldn’t actually believe that?

 He took a step in Gaul’s direction and for a moment you believed the rebel in him saw through the lies and he’d take out Dr. Gaul and President together.

Was this the moment a rebellion was born?

But then you saw it, a shine in his uninjured eye, that told you this was just a man who wanted to go home.

    “Young lady, I suggest you run.” President Ravinstill instructed.

If he couldn’t catch, he couldn’t kill you.

So you ran.

Shoes off, you ran with him on your heels, climbing up a piece of debris towards what was left of the stands, dress and skin ripping as you climbed this way and that, trying to tire him out.  He stumbled but kept up the pace and you brought your bleeding hands to a corner to get further up but a warning shot made you freeze, unable to climb any higher.

That split second of indecision worked in his favor and the man grabbed your still tender ankle and brought you back down to the same level as him.

His hands were around your throat, slamming you back on the concrete before you had a chance to get back up, kicking wildly and scratching deep into his arms, the world around you starting to blur.

You weren’t a fighter, that morphling was drugged out of his mind, you couldn’t steal your way out of this.

Would they let your parents go now?

What would they tell Coriolanus?

What was the point of any of this?

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a broken arrow, probably left over from the games, and as he pressed harder, anguish grunting escaping his bloody mouth, you let yourself go limp beneath him.

He would go no further.

The moment he loosened his grip ever so slightly in victory, you drove your thumb through his bad eye and as he tried everything, slammed you into everything but you wouldn’t let go until the last minute, letting him shove you into a pile of rocks, something in your shoulder popped, causing you to scream.

When he came at you one last time, you drove that arrow into his throat, watching him sink to the ground, jerking and gasping until President Ravinstill took a gun from a peacekeeper, aimed it at the man from District 6, the husband and father, one shot to make him lie still.

It wasn’t fair.

    “Well done little thief, you would have made a fantastic tribute! Allow me.” Dr. Gaul gave no warning before she popped your shoulder back into place.

     “It’s quite remarkable, all that Capitol finery, and you still reverted back to your most natural form.” President Ravinstill marveled, looking your bloody and bruised body up and down.

You were going to be sick.

   “Do you see why I chose you now? You will do anything to survive, the ugly brutal things Capitol citizens don’t like to think about except on that very special time every year, and that’s what Panem needs alongside Coriolanus. Beauty is one thing, but brutality is what keeps the mice at bay.” Dr. Gaul said and clapped her hands once more, the peacekeepers moved from the exit.

    “Go to him, little thief. Go to him and remember the only standing between becoming Mrs. Snow or ending up like your district friend here is your cooperation.” Gaul said and without another word you turned and stumbled out of the arena.

   “See you Monday, young lady!” President Ravinstill called out.

You wandered through the streets of the Capitol for hours till you found yourself in front of Coryo’s apartment and more or less crawled up the stairs.

Before you could lift your hand to knock, the door flew open and Coriolanus enveloped you in his arms, your unrehearsed sobs stifled into his chest.

“Who did this to you?” He asked voice colder than you've ever experienced, touching you all over, cataloging each and every bruise and blood stain.  At the noise, Tigris peeked her head out of her room only to come racing out fully when she saw you.

As you collapsed into their embrace, you had one thought in your head.

Dr. Gaul and President Ravinstill were very much like mice.

To get rid of mice, you would need a snake.

That’s Chapter 5! As usual if you’d like to see Chapter 6, please comment or reblog! Thank you for reading :)

[jungkookslipring]

I Will Never Make You Lonely : Ch 8

Summary: When your life is falling apart, your 8 best friends are there to lift you up

TW: mentions of de&th, su!c!de, su!c!de tendencies, su!c!dal ideologies, depress!on, anxiety, crying. If this is in any way triggering I’d steer towards more of my happier works. 

If you or someone you love has thought of or acted on suicide, there is help and there is hope 

Call or text 988

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, non-idol AU

PSA: this is no way represents the artists. While their birth names are used in this story, the story is fiction and this is in no way a reflection of the artist or artists in real life.

This is the final chapter! So sorry it took so long! I hope you enjoy!

Your last day of finals flew! Your final exam took a lot out of you but once you walked through the double doors of the university, you realized you were done. Done with classes, done with your studies, done with your bachelors. Those four years were a lot and the past few months drained you faster than the long hours of studying reasoning and writing alone, but you were done. You and Changbin were DONE!

The next few weeks came and went in the blink of an eye. You passed all of your finals, you were graduating, and your internship was turning into a full-blown career once graduation was over. You hadn’t told the boys yet, so you decided to surprise them in the most random and lowkey way possible. You were all sitting in the living room scattered anywhere from the couch to the floor, Changbin steaming both of your grad gowns, and you decided at a random part of the movie, that you made your announcement. 

“I got in.” You simply stated. You got a couple of “huh?” reactions from the members, keeping a straight face for the most part until the corners of your mouth raised the tiniest bit when someone gasped from the floor.

“You mean…” Han questioned. You nodded.

“I’m staying in Seoul,” you said happily right before Hyunjin yelled and pulled you from your couch to hug you tight. Cheers and laughter filled the room, and seconds later Chris picked you up and swung you around. Everybody jumped up and down like they were in a locker room, congratulating you as the room was overflowing with pure happiness. The boys treated you and Changbin to Korean BBQ the night before your graduation, as a celebration of getting your degree and getting accepted into your top internship program. After giving you a handwritten graduation card, they handed you an  envelope. You opened it quickly and nearly made all of them go deaf.

“I GET TO SEE FLETCHER?!?!?!” You scream at the top of your lungs.

“We all get to if I don’t go deaf first,” Hyunjin stated, digging his pinky into his ear canal. You jumped for joy as the guys watched you fondly. You were completely stoked to say the least, getting to watch your favorite artists LIVE and in THE FRONT ROW?!?! It truly couldn't get better than this.

They were extremely excited to attend your’s and Changbin’s graduation the next day. They cheered you on with giant cardboard cutouts of your faces that were rather goofy from all the times you have stolen their phone to take a selfie. It was amazing to see how much you had gone through in just a few months, and now you were graduating. When you walked on stage to receive your certificate, you held it up high to the sky, silently thanking Carter for watching over you. Changbin received his right after you, and right when you walked down the steps to go back to your seats, you threw your arms around Changbin, smiling wide when he hugged you back; you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for your best friends. After the ceremony, everyone gathered outside the auditorium, anxiously waiting for you two to come out. As soon as you both ran out the doors, your degrees held high as you pumped your fists in the air, everyone jumped for joy. You ran down the steps and jumped into the first pair of outstretched arms. You hugged each one of them, thanking them for all they had done and continued to do for you. When you reached Chris, you grabbed his face and gently closed the gap between you both. He had originally gone for a hug, but this was better, so much better. The guys started fanboying so hard as Chris's widened eyes slowly fluttered closed. He wrapped his arms snuggly around you and kissed you back.

“I TOLD YOU SHE’D MAKE THE FIRST MOVE!” Minho cheered as Jeongin and Felix rolled their eyes. 

“Doesn’t mean you get to take my money,” Changbin added while Felix was already reaching into his wallet. 

“Pay up hoes,” Seungmin said, holding out his hand. 

“I don’t owe you shit!” Han stated.

“I teamed up with Minho, I receive half,” Seungmin said cheekily. Chris paused for a moment, gazing at you with a look of disbelief as he attempted to determine if this moment was actually happening. Your radiant smile intensified the already beautiful day, causing his dimples to become more pronounced as he placed one hand on your face and drew you closer, intensifying your kiss.

“Hey love birds you can continue sucking face at home right now I want food!” Hyunjin said as he threw an arm around Felix. As you both pulled away and laughed, everyone else looked at you both fondly.

“I can’t believe y’all bet on this,” you say shaking your head but with a giant smile on your face. Chris shook his head.

“I can,” he chuckled.

The next day, you were having a cuddle session with Chris, occasionally stealing kisses and batting his hands away when he’d try to squish your sides. He was playing with your hair when you finally look up from the show you two were watching.

"Can I ask you something?" you whisper, giving Chris one more kiss on the nose.

"Anything," he says.

"How long?" you ask, referring to how long he's had these feelings. His eyes twinkled as he stared into yours.

“Honestly, I can’t pin point a day it started, I just know that overtime, feelings became more apparent and that day we all spent of the beach together, I couldn’t deny it anymore,” he said, playing with your hair during his confession.

"Did you think I wouldn't feel the same?" you ask, moving some hair out of his face.

"Partially yes, but I didn't want to ruin the bond we already have. Your happiness has always been a priority to me, but I didn't know if I could fulfill the happiness as a partner,” Chris said shyly. You giggled.

"Chris, that is so silly. You've always made me smile and laugh when I was stressed, angry, sad, lonely, no matter what the situation you have always been able to put a smile on my face or just simply make me feel safe and loved. Plus, I'm kind of a hypocrite,” you say quietly.

"Whys thats?" He asks, sitting up a little bit.

"Cause this wasn't the first time I developed feelings either,” you say, looking back at the show.

"When was it for you?" He asks. You smiled.

“Remember when you were celebrating Han signing up for therapy because he was so scared to, but you were encouraging him and letting him know that we got his back no matter what? He came home so excited to tell you that he signed up?” Chris smiled fondly at that.

“And that same week, Jeongin was having a hard time with school and he was in tears late at night? You were holding him and letting him know everything was going to be okay? That he was smart and successful and we loved him no matter what?” You asked replaying that event in your head. Chris nodded carefully, he remembered that evening as clear as day. Jeongin was about to graduate high school… THAT WAS 3 YEARS AGO.

“The love you exert is beyond admirable, for you friends, family, and our group. You care for everyone, you have such a big heart, and I knew right then and there that was who I wanted in a partner. You’re everything I could want and more, Chris,” you say proudly. He smiled at that and cupped your face.

“How did I get so lucky to get someone like you?” he asked with so much fondness in his voice. You smirked.

“You’re very lucky cause I think when we first met you thought I was gay,” you giggled. His eyes bulged as he pulled you further into his lap, playfully biting your neck.

“That’s the last time I listen to Han, I think his gaydar was off,” he said with his face buried in your neck, relishing you screeching in the living room.

“You think?!?!” You giggled.

The night of Fletcher’s concert you could barely sit still. You were so giddy on the car ride there, blasting her entire discography, freaking out knowing you were about to hear it live. You looked at all of your friends and watched the stage lights twinkle in their eyes and their smiles beaming through the darkness. Chris admired you from behind with his arms wrapped around your waist, filled with joy seeing you so happy. He held you closer and planted a kiss on the side of your temple.

“I love you,” he said, and while you think you wouldn’t be able to hear him through the speakers, you did.

“I love you too,” you said happily.

Although your world may have turned upside down, you are grateful to have a family and a soulmate who remind you that you are not alone.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

THATS A WRAP! You guys have been so patient with me! Thank you all for supporting this series, I hope to write more in the future! Until then, be kind to yourselves, you are so so loved.

taglist: @felixmainacc @felixburneracc @myforevermelody143 @dunno-wut-to-do @itzsana-kiddingmenow @someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae

[mamaskillerqueen]

Hysteria || Jake Seresin x Reader

Warnings/AN: This is finally part two of Panic! So there is a lot of mention of anxiety ticks and triggers based on how I experience them. Otherwise, I don’t think there is much to warn. If you feel I need to add something here though, please let me know!

A week and a half.

It passed by so quickly and so agonizingly slowly all at the same time. You’d been so wrapped up in work, at least that’s what you kept telling yourself, that you never typed out that text message to Mysterious Bar Guy. Even though Mysterious Bar Guy has been on your mind the entire time. It was hard to get someone like that out of your head after such an unbelievable meeting. You often found yourself questioning if it was fate, something you rarely let happen.

The project the office had been working on was harrowing for everyone, apparently. Or they were just excited to have finally found a nice bar to frequent because plans were already being made to visit the Hard Deck again. In a week... After your last experience, you weren’t sure if you wanted to go but ultimately agreed due to much pleading from your friends. The only issue was that it put just a bit more pressure on to get that message sent off to the man who had turned the evening around the last time.

For an hour at the end of your day, you sat at your desk with an open and blank text message. The slight blink of the cursor was taunting you, your own phone making fun of the fact that you couldn’t tap out even a simple message. Surely it shouldn’t be this hard but it has been so long. You were pushing two weeks since you'd last seen him. Has it been too long? He probably forgot about the whole interaction by now.

“Hey!” 

A knock on your office door had you nearly jumping out of your skin, your head snapping up from your phone screen to see a coworker standing in the doorway. They offered a small smile in apology for scaring you as you clutched your chest.

“You coming? We’re heading out now.”

You nodded, muttering a complaint of their scaring you. It was met with a chuckle as they backed away from your door. Quickly you gathered your things so you could follow your friends out of the building for the day, they didn't like to wait around. The text message that was never formulated would have to wait a little longer. Maybe cooking dinner would bring inspiration. At least you hoped because there was no way you could wait any longer than tonight to text him. He really would forget about you if you didn’t get the show on the road, so to speak.

Your entire commute home was driven on autopilot as you thought far too hard about a good opening text. By the time you pulled into your driveway, you still hadn’t decided if he would even want that text now or not. Somehow, driving on autopilot was quicker for you because you had more time left in your evening than usual after dinner. Which unfortunately meant far too long to let you overthink a text message that really shouldn't be so difficult to formulate.

Once dinner was put away, and the dishes were loaded into the dishwasher you’d sat back down with your phone. The couch welcomed you with open arms and being comfortable helped settle some of the racing thoughts you were trying to fight off. You have always been able to think a little more clearly when you were in a comfortable setting. Several messages were typed out though, and then deleted before you finally settled on one that was going to have to be good enough. There was no way you could convince yourself to spend any more time on this.

Settle any good anxiety-riddled women on a deck outside of a bar lately?

You weren’t expecting a reply so quickly but before you could even get up off the couch to start your nighttime routine your phone chimed.

Mysterious Bar Guy: No, I save that for the really special ones. Didn’t think I’d hear from her again though.

A sense of calm washed over you at his quick and easy reply, even if you felt a little terrible about making him wait so long. The conversation lasted about half an hour, you apologized profusely and blamed a busy work schedule. He was quick to accept the apology and plan a date for the next evening. A date he refused to disclose any information on, and insisted happen so soon because too much time had passed already. When you demanded to know enough for a dress code, well as demanding as you could bring yourself to be, he relented in telling you to dress like you would for the bar.

At first that made you nervous. He seemed too good to be true so dragging you back to the bar you met for a first date might have made him a little less perfect, but he seemed to realize how that answer had come off and quickly sent another text message. This one to assure you that was not what was happening, he just wanted you comfortable. You wondered all day at work what he could have planned. Texts were sent back and forth all day as you tried to get more info out of him. He was sealed tight though, and very proud of his plans. That would be why you spent the last half of your free evening pacing your house until you needed to get ready.

There was practically a trench in your living room by the time you decided what you’d wear and how you’d do your makeup. A mental game plan was needed before you even attempted to look at your closet or you would never pick anything. When the time was appropriate and the game plan was set, you made your way to your room to settle into an easy routine. Something about doing your makeup always relaxed you. So, by the time there was a ringing of your doorbell you weren’t as nervous anymore. At least until you had to make your way to the door to let him in. Butterflies raged on in your stomach, almost making you wonder if they had gone away at all, while you descended the stairs.

With a shaky hand, you pulled the door open and as soon as your eyes met his, everything dropped. Your shoulders were no longer hunched up to your ears, a steady smile pulled your lips upwards, and you let out a breath you’d been holding since before you even got home this afternoon. Jake didn’t let onto it, but you could tell he noticed. It was only slightly embarrassing. 

“Hi,” you breathed while stepping aside and motioning for him to come inside.

He stood in the doorway with a small bouquet of wildflowers, not too much but definitely not empty-handed. Normally, you wouldn’t consider yourself a flower kind of person but you couldn’t help but be tonight. They were so pretty and the giddy feeling you got thinking about how he considered what he has learned about you so far to pick such a small bouquet made you understand why someone would enjoy this. It was almost scary how easy and comfortable everything was with him. It was the complete opposite of how you usually felt around strangers.

“Hi, these are for you. You look gorgeous.”

You could feel the heat flood your cheeks and decided to avoid eye contact as you reached for the flowers and took a sniff. Your eyes met his for one second, only rushing that heat to your ears.

“They’re beautiful, thank you. I’m gonna put them in water, and then I’m all set.”

When you returned from the kitchen, Jake was leaning against the entryway by your living room. His eyes following your every move. As soon as you stopped to stand in front of him, your fingers began fidgeting with bubbling anxiety, he pushed off the wall to grab your hands. He quickly bent at the knees, just a bit, so he could look you in the eyes a little easier as you refused to bring them back up to meet his.

“What’re ya scared of darlin’?” He asked, no judgment or accusation in his tone.

“That this could all go horribly wrong and I could end up never seeing you again.”

Your reply came so easily, so quickly, it startled you. It was the most honest you had ever been with someone you barely knew. Maybe the most honest you have ever been with another person in general.

“I don’t think that’s anything you need to worry about.”

His reassurances were nice and came almost as quickly as your honest answer had a moment ago. It was just as startling, which held a vague comfort. It was nearly impossible to lie that quickly, right?

The rest of the evening couldn’t have gone by any better, or smoother. Jake was the perfect Southern gentleman, holding doors and offering his hand to help you in and out of his truck. He didn’t disappoint with a small, quiet little diner for dinner. You both ordered burgers and milkshakes and chatted for well over an hour before he insisted it was time to go. He checked in on the drive to the surprise main event, making sure you were okay and comfortable. When you said you were fine but started to fidget with your fingers, he offered one hand from the steering wheel. You took it gratefully and immediately settled. It didn't matter where he was taking you. Some surprises could be good. You had to know that. So, you allowed his touch to relax you as much as you could manage.

He had known that a fancy, busy restaurant would have probably caused a little anxiety. It had taken him forever to find the small diner that seemed to be nearly empty at all times. The food was great though, and when you were comfortable enough to chat for so long he had known he’d made the right decision. He filled you in on this as he drove, trying to distract you from the fact that you had no idea what he had up his sleeve. It was also a great way to fill the silence that had settled into the vehicle, it wasn't quite awkward but you're sure that if he hadn't started talking it probably would have reached that level eventually.

When the door opened and his hand stretched back out to you to help you back out of the truck, your eyes nearly bugged out of your head and a small gasp left your lips. Your feet hit the ground but you barely noticed as you turned to look at him, the shock still clear on your face.

“You didn’t...”

It was easy to read the pride on his face as he nodded and informed you that he had in fact done it. During one of your texting conversations, which had happened right before this date, he had told you all about flying. You had mentioned your love of sunsets and he said they were best while up in the air. The exact response you gave him was long forgotten since the wee hours of this morning but you know it was along the terms of wanting to see that. You’d ask how he managed this on such short notice one day, but today you were blithely excited as you both bounded toward the giant hot air balloon.

Light changes quickly, you knew that from a brief stint in the photography field. So you were both compliant to all rules and information given as they filled the balloon and you started to ascend into the air. You had never had a first date even close to as good as this. His arms wrapped around you and held you close to his chest as you both whispered your awe for the beauty of the changing sky. It took a conscious effort to not start crying over how good this was. Something in the back of your brain was nagging that it couldn't be real, or wouldn't last at the very least. While you floated through the sky with his voice in your ear, talking all about what it's like to see this in the jet he flies for work, you settled. His chatter and body language was enough to shut up your traitorous brain for now.

When the basket touched the earth again, and it was time to end your evening, anxiety and dread started to bubble in your chest though. You couldn’t have had a better time. It was perfect. He was perfect. And that was terrifying because when would the other shoe drop? Jake did a phenomenal job of keeping you from a downward spiral while you chatted on the way to your house. His hand was placed firmly on your thigh, his thumb rubbing soothing circles. The wind from the downed windows whipped through your hair, and a faint country love song played on the radio. He even walked you to the door, kissed your cheek, and whispered a perfectly raspy goodnight in your ear. It wasn’t until he was gone that you panicked again.

That trench in your living room only worried deeper as you refused to sleep the rest of the night. The fact that you had to work first thing in the morning be damned. There was so much to think over, so much to dissect from the evening. Perfect evenings like that only happened in your dreams, movies, and fanfics. They didn't happen to you. Let alone the way you met the man of your dreams. In the modern, real world that you actually lived in, people met on apps like Tinder and wondered why it wouldn't work out. So many reasons why you shouldn't be getting a fairy tale ending, or how they weren't real raced in your head. Your pacing only stopped long enough to read the text Jake sent to let you know he was home safe, per your request. 

You didn’t reply.

In fact, you didn’t reply to a single text he sent for the next almost two weeks.

His messages never stopped being sweet, even as the beautiful flowers he’d gotten you died on the counter. As each petal fell, you knew you were losing your chance. You were losing him. But, did you ever have him? What if the amount of talking you’d actually done was annoying and he just wanted one thing? What if he would drop you immediately after he got it? What if he found something better? It was infuriating that all you could think about were the terrible things that could happen. You were singlehandedly making your worse fears come true but nothing you did could make you reply. Even his adorable little pleas for you to at least let him know you were alive. 

The first day you didn’t receive a text from him, you found yourself with your head between your knees as you tried to calm down enough to not throw up all over your office. It didn’t help that it was Friday, finally, and the plan was for everyone to go out to the Hard Deck for drinks, that you had made them push back last week. Not a single one of your friends would let you out of it now. They didn’t know you were self-sabotaging, not that it would have made a difference. Honestly, it probably would have made them take you sooner to find the very nice, handsome pilot you could already picture a future with. If you hadn’t messed it all up.

He was the first thing you noticed the minute you walked into the bar that night. Luckily, he hadn’t seen you yet. You needed a drink, a strong one or five before you attempted to confront your mistakes. Your best friend from work volunteered for the first round, and as you slid into the booth you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He looked just as perfect as the first night you met him. His uniform fit way too well to not have been tailored. The megawatt smile he wore, while he played pool, tugged at your heartstrings. The stupid voice in your head told you he was clearly happy without you. You were overthinking and he was fine.

Round two came far quicker than anyone was expecting and you jumped at the chance to buy just so you could move. You had no room in the tight booth to do any form of fidgeting, and when your brain wouldn't shut up, moving seemed to help at least slow the Gilmore Girl-esque dialog a bit. As you stood at the bar you decided that five seemed like a good number before you went to him. What you hadn’t expected was that just someone accidentally stepping too close at the bar would bring back unpleasant flashbacks of being pawed the last time you were here in this very spot.

“Please don’t touch me.”

The plead was weak, and therefore deaf to the man who was practically stomping on your heels as he attempted to wave Penny down. He moved closer to squeeze between you and the other person next to you, all while your shoulders pulled further up towards your ears and the air began to feel thick. Clearly, his beer was more important than the people who were already waiting patiently. Your stomach rolled with unease, and when he finally noticed he was making you uncomfortable he laid it on a little thicker. A tactic to get his drink first, you were sure but as his hands found your waist you bolted. As you practically sprinted across the bar you decided that ordering drinks was no longer your job, ever again at any location.

There was only one person in this entire bar, hell the entire world, who could make you feel less like throwing up, and you went running for him. His name had left your lips in a terrified gasp before you were even close but his head whipped around to find you, and his arms opened wide. When you collided with his chest he had to take an unsteady step backwards to keep you from knocking both of you over. Before you could register much, you were outside.

Jake had passed his pool stick off and had shuffled you both out the back door. Your breathing was a little ragged but with his arms so tightly wrapped around you, and his scent relaxing everything in you, you were slowly returning to yourself. The salty spray of ocean air wafted through your hair and licked at your skin, a soft humming rang in your ear, and when it paused for a soft pair of lips to press a kiss into your hair, you melted.

“What happened after our date, sweetheart?”

The very long silence that had preceded his question wasn’t bad, the silence that followed was awkward. You tensed in his arms but did nothing else to move, you felt him give you a subtle squeeze in reassurance. He did not attempt to rush you and still made sure you were okay. It was almost like he could read your mind. The response you gave him had to be mumbled into his chest because there was no way you could lift your head and meet his eyes yet. One drink was not enough to prepare you for this.

“What do you mean?”

Smooth. If you could smack yourself in the face, you would have.

“I mean, where have ya been? I thought we’d already be a couple by now. That date went really well, didn’t it?”

“I-yo-wait.. what?”

You struggled your way out of his tight grasp and stared up at him with evident shock written on your face. He stared at you with a quiet acceptance that had you feeling even more guilty. There was something in his eyes that you couldn't bring yourself to even think about at the moment. Your brain would find a way to take the feeling and make it terrible if you ever thought of naming it. He didn’t say what you thought he did, did he? He couldn't have. If he had just said what you thought you definitely needed to not cry right now.

He just continues to stare at you for a minute, that look you can't name never wavering, knowing all you need is a second to wrap your head around what you want to say. So silence stretches on for a few seconds, that felt like hours. You open your mouth and then close it at least ten times before your brain allowed you to form a coherent sentence that kind of explained everything that has been going on for you in the last two weeks.

“It did go well. Very well. I just… well, you know,” you motion to your head, swirling your finger in the air like the whirlwind that is always happening in your head, “it gets crazy up here and I can get a little lost sometimes. I’d really love that second date if you’ll have me.”

The only indication that you might have a second chance at this is a faint smile. He barely lets you see it, his face schooled into a stoic mask. Your heart beats rapidly as you think about how you probably don’t deserve a second chance. He would be better off with someone who could function as a social human and answer his texts and pleas to let him know you were still alive. And then he speaks, and your heart stops dead in its tracks.

“For you darlin’?” He pauses for dramatic effect, a smirk pulling his lips up further, “I’d do anything you’d ask.”

And then it starts pumping again. Back in full force. Hard enough to completely break your chest. You’re going to marry this man one day, and if you don’t get that chance, it’ll be the end of you.

[fadingdaggerr]

Hey my lovely wondering if I could request a Melissa x teacher reader fic where maybe the reader is at dinner with Melissa’s mum. And the reader and Mel have been together for a long ish time and mels mum asks if they have Any plans for marriage and before the reader can say anything Mel says “probably not ,I’ve done it before” and then that night maybe the reader brings up the fact she’s never been married unlike Melissa and maybe it resorts in a fight and the reader calling Mel selfish anf she storms out and then the next day Mel and reader go to work and Mel pulls the reader outside and appologises and maybe they say they will do a small wedding. Tysm ❤️

picking petals

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: based on the request above! i made very slight changes mostly in wording but i tried by best to stay true to the prompt :)

warnings: insecurity/self-doubt (both mel and r), verbal fighting

translations: mio bambino (my child), qual è il suo nome (what is her name), è una sorpresa (it’s a surprise), tesoro (treasure/darling)

note: this was my first ever request which was super cool <3 very honored to be trusted with y’all’s brainrot. i hope i did this justice and thank u so much for asking

giorgia schemmenti was a tough nut to crack. the first two years you were with melissa, you were close to panic before every family dinner, sure your girlfriend’s mother hated you. melissa had probably spent a collective hundred hours convincing you her mother didn’t hate you, she’s just italian baby. it wasn’t until giorgia schemmenti herself gave you first pick at the famous homemade cannolis over cousin vinny did you know you were part of the schemmenti family. five years and countless family dinners later, and she was still hovering the tray in front of you first. the greatest change? that was when she started greeting you at the door with a mio bambino! and kisses to each cheek, the same way she did for melissa and kristin marie.

and this dinner was just the same, except for the extra kiss on the cheek for bringing the ‘good chianti.’ carmine, tony, and vinny left early to catch the end of a soccer game. kristin marie left promptly dessert, as she always did. it was always down to you and melissa, always staying to clean the dishes and kitchen together. giorgia would discuss the latest gossip about people at the church melissa went to as a child.

“oh! melissa you won’t believe this, that girl… qual è il suo nome… the one who used to have that awful nose ring?” giorgia blurts out, then glares at the both of you for giggling at her nose ring comment.

“elena mancini?” melissa answers through a laugh.

“yes, yes, elena. she just got married last week, isn’t that wonderful?” melissa just nods and hums in agreement, letting her mother continue, “they’re leaving for their honeymoon and he apparently won’t tell her where they’re going, è una sorpresa!”

“that’s sweet,” you say as you wipe down the counter.

melissa weighs in, “sounds a little serial killer-y to me. mystery vacation? hell no.” you laugh at her comment, giorgia on the other hand, does not. instead, she turns in her chair to directly face melissa, staring at her intently.

“you don’t get to make fun of other people’s honeymoons until you finally marry this one,” giorgia points a well manicured finger at you, “and go on your own.”

“ma!” melissa rolls her eyes and mutters, “like i’d ever do that again. worked out real well the first time.”

you can hear your heart shatter inside your rib cage at her words. melissa didn’t want to marry you. she’d said so many things over the last five years that made you so sure she wanted forever with you, the same you wanted with her. but apparently, you were wrong. fine.

you decide to not react as much as you can. you place the last of the dishes in the cupboard while melissa and her mother bicker, but you’re hardly listening. it all sounded like white noise, buzzing behind the high pitch heart break you felt.

for the first time, you were glad to be leaving giorgia’s home. you numbly pressed a kiss to her cheek with a ciao, before walking out the door to the car, not waiting for melissa. when melissa had gotten in the car, she grabbed your hand as she always does. she frowns when you don’t immediately bring it to your lips and kiss her knuckles a few times. the car ride home is silent. the only noise is the low volume of the radio and wind passing the car.

—

you slip your shoes off at the door and hang your jacket before wordlessly walking upstairs. you head to the bathroom to wash your face, hoping the cold water would soothe your pain. walking into the bedroom, you see melissa sitting on the bed with an indifferent look on her face. you just walk to the closet and pull out sleep shorts and a long sleeve, changing facing away from her still.

“tesoro?” melissa breaks the silence. you only hum in response. “are you okay? you’re being very quiet.”

“i’m fine, melissa,” you answer.

she stands up, “bull. you never call me melissa, unless we’re at work. what’s going through your head right now?”

you feel her arms wrap around your middle, her chin sitting on your shoulder. it’s so gentle, so loving. she’s so soft with you, it’s a side of no one else gets or sees. it’s so loving in fact, it makes you realize she didn’t know her words hurt you, that they were dissecting your heart while hers beat steadily against your back.

pulling out from her touch, you turn and look at her now frowning face, “do you even want this?” you gesture between the two of you.

her eyebrows turned upwards, “what do you mean baby?”

“what you said at your mothers,” she looks a little lost, “like you’d ever do that again? cause it worked so well the first time? that’s what you have to say about the very thought of marrying me?”

melissa’s face drops from a concerned frown, to a defensive, stern look. she crosses her arms as she starts, “i didn’t say it was about marrying you.”

your brow tenses, “who else would you marry, melissa? if you’ve had an expiration date of our relationship in mind, you coulda fucking shared it!”

she steps closer to you, “there is no expiration date! all i said was i didn’t want to get god damn married, that’s all!”

you pinch the bridge of your nose, “i’m not demanding marriage! but is the idea of us being married so off putting?”

“you know i love you, you know that,” she needs you to know.

“that’s not an answer, melissa,” your eyes were welling with tears, and it was taking all your strength to not let them fall.

“it wasn’t about marrying you,” she repeats, you can tell she wants to say more, but she doesn’t.

“melissa, your mother was specifically talking about you marrying me,” you’re exasperated at this point. melissa’s face dropped. she ran the conversation with her mother over in her head. giorgia had said until you finally marry this one and pointed straight at your perfect face. and melissa said that.

she watches you walk past her, the second she registers you’ve left the room, she immediately follows. a oversized grey zip up is already covering you, your shorts just barely peaking out the bottom. you’re angrily shoving your feet into your sneakers, not taking the time to tie them. the jingling of your keys masks her heart beating rapidly.

“i love you, melissa. with every cell in my body, down to the last atom. i don’t need a legal document or a big wedding to prove that,” you can nearly look at her, not with the big tears welling in her eyes, “take some time to think about how i might also have thoughts about our relationship, not just you. i’m going to gregory’s, i’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

with that, you’re out the front door and walking to your car. she watches your pull out of your driveway. melissa stands there for a while before moving to on the couch. she stares at the black screen of the tv in hopes she’ll eventually falls asleep.

you arrive at gregory’s apartment building, and sit in the parking lot before texting him that you’re about to come up and you’ll explain later. grabbing your bag of spare work clothes from the trunk, you head in. when the elevator opens, gregory is already there, ready and waiting to give you a tight hug.

—

barbara howard is a very smart woman. so when she sees your car in the parking lot, and not just melissa’s, she knows something this wrong. in the break room, barbara is greeted by gregory while you stay quiet next to him, stirring your coffee with a blank look on your face. gregory only gives her a small shake of the head, deterring her from asking you about your mood.

your eyes move to the clock above the door, melissa would be here soon. you usually drove and walked in together, hand in hand. with a deep breath, you get up and walk to your classroom to prep in solitude. barbara noticed the time and your actions, and may the good lord have mercy on melissa when she finally gets her hands on her.

except when melissa arrived, she was in a similar state to you, withdrawn and quiet. everyone keeps an extra few inches of distance between them and the red head, nearly sighing in relief when she leaves to her own classroom with fast steps and no goodbye.

when melissa’s kids are off at gym, she stops outside your classroom. she watches you interact with the kids, helping them with the science project posters. you had pieces of tape hanging from your fingers and a frog sticker on your cheek, it made melissa’s heart ache. you’d been so excited to teach the fourth graders about adaptions in animals, practically skipping to the art store for poster board and glitter glue. now your smile wasn’t even reaching your eyes. melissa knew she was to blame.

melissa turns to leave and is immediately greeted with the gregory staring her down in the hall. he mouths talk before backing into janine’s classroom. she was at least glad that gregory wouldn’t spread this information like beads on linoleum, it would already be on the news if were janine.

at lunch, she’s dragged by the elbow by none other than barbara howard. “what did you do?” barbara asks as she shuts the door to her classroom.

“who said i did anything?” melissa says too quickly.

“your face! the fact that your little admirer can’t even look at you! what happened, melissa ann? i want the truth,” business barbara was in session.

melissa sighs and admits defeat, “i fucked up so bad, barb. ma was talking about this chick’s surprise honeymoon, i said it sounded like a death wish and ma told i can’t make fun until the two of us got married and went on our own.”

barbara can already feel what’s coming, “and what did you say, melissa?”

“might’ve said ‘like i’d ever do that again, didn’t work the last time.’ somethin’ like that,” melissa looks at her hands the entire time she speaks, not able to meet barbara’s eyes.

good thing too, because barbara howard was in what can only be known as utter disappointment. she knew melissa wanted nothing more than a life with you, but she also knew why she had restraints. but in the decades she’d known her best friend, barbara had never seen her happier than when she was with you. melissa’s words shocked barbara to the core.

“i know you’re scared and hurt from your marriage with joe, melissa. but do you honestly think that little sweetheart down the hall doesn’t know that either?”

melissa keeps playing with her hands, “no…”

“or that maybe, just maybe, you want that future just as much and that’s what’s scaring you?” barbara asks, despite knowing that’s exactly what’s going on, even if melissa didn’t know it yet.

melissa blinks rapidly as she takes in barbara’s words. marrying you didn’t sound all that bad. the idea of being introduced as your wife made butterflies dance in her stomach. to have matching rings and to see one on your hand, knowing she placed it there with a promise to love you until the last star burned out. she wanted that, she knew that now.

“fuck…” melissa sighs, her hands covering her face with shame. barbara says nothing else, just wraps melissa in a comforting hug.

—

by the end of the school day, your ability to keep a pleasant facade was deteriorating. you were stone faced while sweeping your classroom in silence, a ridiculous amount of glitter and strips of paper littered the floor. if you’d been wearing your earbuds like you usually do, you wouldn’t have heard footsteps approaching your classroom. but you did, and you knew who it was. your classroom door shut and you turned to melissa.

“can we talk?” she says, unsure.

leaning the broom then yourself again one of the tables, you nod and gesture for her to continue.

“i’m so sorry, tesoro. i shouldn’t have said what i did, i wasn’t thinking of your feelings about it, only my own,” she started, hoping you’d let her in.

you purse your lips, “and your feelings are…?”

she steps towards you, placing shaking hands on your shoulders, “i’m terrified. last time it was so incredibly painful and i’m scared of that happening again,” her hands cup your face, “but i’m not scared that it would happen with you. god, forever with you sounds like heaven.”

your hands come up to her wrists, resting them there, “i don’t want to rush you, melissa. and i don’t need a crazy ass wedding. hell, i’d go to city hall in sweatpants and a grateful dead shirt if that’s what you wanted.”

“what if… what if down the road you realize this was a mistake? that you want someone else?” melissa’s voice is so small it almost hurts.

you grip on her arm tightens slightly, “there’s never been anyone else i’ve wanted as much as you, and there will never be anyone else. you’re it for me schemmenti, capiche?”

your eyes looking into hers, your voice, the grip on her arms, it’s all too much for melissa to handle. she pulls you forward, kissing you with all the love she has in her. your hands drop from her arms to her hips, holding onto her for dear life. when her tongue moves to trace your bottom lip, you reluctantly pull away, realizing you’re still in the school.

“i love you,” melissa says quietly, “and i want nothing more than to marry you.”

melissa watches your face turn into a big, goofy smile. her heart jumps, having barely seen as a raised brow from you all day. your grip on her hips tightens as you pull her a little closer, “yeah?”

she smiles, “yeah. but no sweats in city hall though, and no big, fat wedding that’ll blow our eardrums with the combined power of my family and yours.”

it’s your turn to press a kiss to her lips, quick and sweet. “as long as you’re the one saying ‘i do,’ i couldn’t care less where we are or who’s there,” another kiss to her lips, a bit longer this time.

her thumbs stroke the apples of your cheeks gently. god, she loved you. and by some miracle, you loved her just as much. even when she was bullheaded and stuck in her own head, you loved her so much you wanted to marry her. it had taken this whole ordeal to realize the two of you were married in every way except literally. anniversaries, flowers on random days, split bills, kisses good morning, kisses good night, ‘our house,’ ‘my mel.’ she should’ve seen it earlier, but she saw it now.

as if you can sense her thoughts, you press a kiss to her temple, “let’s go home.”

the night ended with an empty bottle of wine and melissa asleep on top of you on the couch. one of your rings on her left hand and one of her on yours, acting as make shift engagement rings, promising your heart to hers and hers to yours.

as always, feedback is appreciated and i hope y’all liked this. love ya

title comes from the ‘they love me, they love me not’ thing where you pick off flower petals, in case anyone was curious

[shelfthe-reader]

Greetings mutual of mine, tis I, completing my duties as a mutual to randomly send you questions :D

I dare you… to rant about a character who deserved better GO

(lets pretend this hasn’t been sitting for two weeks)

So my instinct was to start yapping about my #emotionalsupportwhiteboy Jason Grace but I doubt I can say anything new about him. Or be able to be coherent since all of his lore just flew through the window. Then I thought Will Solace or Nico di Angelo but they are too obvious (since they were literally Rick’s punching bags). But instead I give you Darrel Curtis from The Outsiders and LET ME TELL YOU WHY (SPOILERS FOR THE OUTSIDERS IF ANY OF THE MUTUALS ARE WANTING TO READ THIS INCREDIBLE PHENOMENAL BOOK)

A/N: To make this as fair as possible, I’m ONLY focusing on characterization from the book. Reason being I’ve never seen the movie so I’m not able to average out the three major lores (book, movie, musical.) It’s only fair if I do either the original or all. Not partial lore.

I’m not quite sure if this counts as “deserved better” but it’s still tragic

I first read this book tthan our protagonist Ponyboy Curtis.

At that age, I HATED Darry. I didn’t sympathize with him, I thought he was a terrible person, etc. All of my energy went into crying for Johnny, and deciding that Pony and I were the same person. I didn’t give a shit about Darry’s actions. I thought he deserved what came to him.

But then, in my senior year of highschool (this year, 2024 for those in the future if this post gets resurrected), I picked up the book again, read it three times in four months, annotated it, and watched the musical. As I’m writing this, I’m rereading my annotations from last month.

Now enough with this exposition, let’s get into my rant about Darrel Shaynne Curtis Jr.

***

Darry's gone through a lot in his twenty years, grown up too fast. Sodapop'll never grow up at all. I don't know which way's the best. I'll find out one of these days. (The Outsiders, pg 10)

Darry was one step away from being set for life- he was a Greaser who could get out. He was smart, he had non-Greaser friends; he had a football scholarship and was set for college.

He was either 19 or freshly 20 when BOTH of his parents get killed in an accident leaving two kids under 18. Naturally, being the soul he was, he immediately gave up his dream to keep his hooligan family together. They all knew that if he went to college it would be over for the family. There’s only so much you can do in Poor-ass, bum-fuck Nowhere, Oklahoma. And Darry does it all.

On top of working stupid hours in stupid conditions hauling stupid amounts of roofing, he has to parent a teenager who knows too much for his own good. This book is written in first person, and while Ponyboy defends his every decision, you can tell he doesn’t have the street smarts his brothers grew up with. And you can tell that stresses Darry out even more, even with the amount of times Pony insults/shit talks his brother.

Does Darry deal with this well? Hell no. I’d be surprised if he did. So much stupid in one week can drive a person crazy (believe me, I know.) Now, I don’t condone smacking children for ANY reason, but I think here, Darry was in that brother/father limbo and crossed into brother territory. Like have y’all NOT smacked your siblings? But went royally wrong here is that because he acts so much like a “father-overlord” to Ponyboy so often, Pony couldn’t even compute the fact that Darry could ACTUALLY act like a brother sometimes. In the park with Johnny, he even compares it to Johnny being hit by his father. Apparently being a brother doesn’t describe Darry anymore

The REALLY heartbreaking part is the reunion after ✨The Fire✨. When his “Alpha male, if I don’t feel anything it would be better for all of us” facade shatters and he just KNOWS that he inadvertently causes everything after page 58. That’s another burden that no man should EVER carry.

It took a murder, a fire, a rumble, a death, a suicide, a three-day fever dream, and Soda running away for Ponyboy to finally understand what Darry does to keep him safe and I think that’s the most tragic thing of all.

Am I just talking in circles? Probably. I’m never coherent when talking about my traumatized characters.

As a treat for staying the entire length of this essay/incoherent rant, here are the bones of an Outsiders playlist I’m making.

[fandom-lover2]

Deep In The Woods, Something Lingers In The Trees

Chapter Four - A Troop Of Two

Word Count - 2230

Chapter Three - Like Tarzan And Jane Do

Chapter Five - Scientists Always Spoil The Fun

My eyes fluttered open slowly. It was quiet, peaceful. Outside, birds called cheerfully to one another.

Beyond that, the ever present dull of the city beyond. I could hear distant voices, followed by a child’s laugh. The neighbours, no doubt. Kids playing on the street.

I yawned, stretching as I rolled over and prepared to go back to sleep when my eyes flicked open one more time and an almost human, hairy face greeted me.

I shrieked, moving backwards, which then led to me falling out of a bed much smaller than my own and landing harshly on the ground.

Caesar jumped up onto his bed after me, looking over the edge.

Right, I hadn’t gone home.

One minute Caesar was showing me how one of his games worked, our sign language lesson had taken a break, and then I woke up curled up in his bed.

Damn, I fell asleep, in a stranger’s home, with a fucking chimpanzee. I was shit sacred of him six hours ago and now I’m crashing in his bed?

Caesar called down to me, looking uneasy.

“I’m fine.” I reassured, beginning to untangle myself from the blanket I’d taken with me on my way down.

Caesar then began to laugh, more like huffs than the actual sound but the gesture was the same.

 “It’s not funny.” I glared up at him.

The attic steps creaked as someone made their way up and Will, Ceasar’s dad (I had learnt the sign for father), popped his head up. “Everything alright?” he called.

“Fine.” I answered, standing. “Fell asleep and woke up to a very unexpected face, is all.”

Will smiled in understanding, nodding. “Yeah, you looked dead on your feet. Surprised you managed to stay awake that long.”

I sat up, stretching as I did. Damn, I needed this.

“Well, you slept through lunch, and most of the afternoon.” Will continued. “We’ll be having dinner in about an hour. You are welcome, if you’d like.”

I glanced over at the clock on Caesar’s bedside. 4.30pm. My parents would be home in about an hour. There was probably a pile of dishes in the kitchen and a full laundry room to get back to. Nevermind all the school work that was probably sent through. If I wanted to make the walk on Sunday….

Wait, Caesar was at the forest on Sunday last week. Would he be there again this week?

“I should probably head home.” I decided, standing and putting Caesar’s blanket back on his bed.

I looked over to Caesar, at his sad expression, complete with a pouty lip and all.

“I’m sorry, but I need to go be a boring human.”

Caesar nodded, still sad but understanding and leapt off his bed and retrieved my jacket I had hung over his desk chair.

We headed for the front door, Charles, Will’s father, meeting us at the door to see me off.

“Don’t be a stranger now.” He placed a hand on my shoulder as I passed.

I nodded in reply.

Caesar made a barking grunt, tugging on Will’s pants and then signing in a hurry.

“He’s asking if you’ll come back.” Will filled in, looking over me to as if he too wanted the answer.

Did I want to come back? I mean, today was the most fun I had in probably my entire life. Caesar just got me, enough though he wasn’t human. We got each other. Both looking out at a world we couldn’t join, both young and eager to experience life.

Caesar was teaching me to understand him, and Youtube videos would fill in where he could not.

But it was more than that, we understood one another’s souls. He was not human, not on the outside, but on the inside there was something in him that made him better than most I knew. Made him more. He was funny, and fun to be around, and insanely smart and kind. He was gentle, and a bit stupid that only a adolescent boy could achieve, and he was a good friend.

Maybe we could take this slow, arrange to meet at the forest another time. Or, we could see one another everyday. I mean, it’s not as it if mattered, he was right across the street. I could visit him every day if I wanted. And go with them to the forest every time they did.

I would see Caesar again, that I knew. How soon, and how often, I had a feeling it was going to be impossible to keep us apart.

Huh, this having a neighbor as a friend thing wasn’t so bad.

“Well, I still have a lot more sign to learn.”

Caesar moved quickly, and before I had a chance to react, he was standing and his arms wrapped around me.

I froze, unable to understand what was happening for a good few moments.

He was hugging me. A proper, arms around the neck, chin resting on my shoulder, hug. His fur rubbed against my exposed skin, tickling it. He was warm, and like this I could feel how much muscle the fur actually hid.

But there was no fear, no uncertainty, no alarm. It felt good, and safe. It felt… like there was actual care behind the hug.

Slowly, I raised my arms and wrapped them around him in turn, securing them behind his middle. I took a deep breath in, and when I released my entire frame relaxed, a weight lifted off my chest.

I had a friend, a safe space to go to, a person who would listen to my troubles. I had a person. I had a friend.

Dashing across the street, I raced into my house and up to my room. Yanking the curtains open for the first time in three days, I looked out across the street and waved at the ape. He waved back.

“Alina in window.” Caesar signed.

“Yes.” I signed back. “Alina in window.”

------

My heart pounded in my chest, my lungs burning as I fought to get enough oxygen to keep going. My legs burned as I pushed toward.

Behind me, the trees were near silent, which was strange considering what was happening.

I could hear him through, his grunts and pants, his growls.

I pushed myself to go further, faster. I was almost there. I didn’t dare turn to look back, wouldn’t turn to see him getting closer. Wouldn’t see his fangs bared, the sick triumph in his eyes as he closed in on me.

I sailed over a fallen tree, scaling a boulder and leaping from it, hitting the ground running.

Yes, the cabin was in sight. Almost there, almost safe.

Above me, he released a scream that froze the blood in my veins, stirring me on as adrenaline gave me one final push.

Almost, almost, allllmost…

Caesar leapt from the tree above, landing before me with a heavy thud.

I skidded to a halt, narrowly avoiding crashing into him as I slipped on the smooth pine needles.

He held his arms out, reaching towards me, mouth open and canines on display. I looked at him, scanning for any sign he was going to move. Slowly, taunting me, he began to reach out his hand, knowing there was nothing I could do.

“Caesar, please.” I tried to reason, holding my hands out in surrender.

He seemed to consider my words for just a second, before his arm shot out the rest of the way and knocked against the run-down ranger’s cabin.

I groaned, collapsing onto the forest floor. I tasted blood with every hagged breath, my lungs shuddering as they attempted to expand fully.

“No fair.” I whined.

Caeser grunted and I looked over at him. ‘You almost got it! You are getting better.’

I huffed at the comment. Mock flattery.

Caeser had so much fun making sure I always thought I was so close to winning, and then swooping in last second to crush my victory.

‘You cheat.’ I signed back, knowing that would get a rise out of him.

As always, he rushed forward and all but collapsed onto me. I grunted at the sudden assault of his weight, which then turned into a shriek as he began to tickle me.

God I regretted the day I had taught him how to tickle, and more importantly that I was ticklish.

His calloused fingers slipped beneath my shirt, running up and down my skin on my sides.

“Caesar!” I wailed, squirming around in his hold as laughter erupted from me uncontrollably. “Sttttoooooppp!” I tried to say, unable to form words as peals of happiness took my breath. “I’m sorry!” I screamed, still trashing around to try get away from him.

Caesar finally conceded, pulling away and throwing himself down to lie beside me.

I gasped, now fighting even harder to try catch my breath.

Caesar took my hand in his own, squeezing it gently as I forced air in through my nose and then out my mouth. Deep, smooth breaths. When I had gained control, I looked over at Caesar and he back at me, him smiling softly.

The forest always made his eyes look so much brighter, more full of life. The green popped more vivid and the gold shown like a jewel in the sun.

I raised a hand, resting it against the side of his head and stroking my thumb across his forehead, then frowned when my fingers felt pine needles and soil in his fur. “Caes, you got dirty.”

I sat up, gesturing for him to do the same. He did so, turning his back to me.

If someone had told me 2 months ago I’d be sitting in the forest grooming a chimpanzee, I would have laughed at them, and then start crying because I couldn’t imagine a worse hell. Now, as my fingers slipped between the layers of his fur, gently pulling out leaves and twigs, I found myself relaxing.

It was relaxing, a repetitive and soothing action as I smoothed out his fur.

Around us, birds called and the forest kept on growing, content with us.

When I had finished cleaning Caesar, he turned and began shifting through my hair. His fingers were so gentle through my uncontrollable curls, the ape so sure to be careful.

He was the only one I trusted to touch my hair besides me, because he never yanked and never pulled.

Once he was satisfied with his work, we stood and made our way back to the picnic.

Will had come alone today, Charles needing to take a nap and Caroline having to cover a shift at the zoo. My step father and mom were out of town for the week, so I’d be sleeping over.

Did my parents know? Yes.

Did they know Caesar was a chimpanzee? Yes.

My mother was not comfortable letting me just go over to someone’s house, and so insisted on meeting Caesar and the other humans. To say they were surprised would be an understatement, but then they saw Caesar and I and realized our friendship was real.

Now, I spent most days at his house. After school, he was surprisingly good at homework. Weekends, I head over once I was dressed and we’d spend the entire day screwing around. Movies, books, board games, we did it all. Sundays were our days to escape the city and for Caesar to be an ape.

And how amazing it was to see him swing through the trees so effortlessly, to command the forest as if it was his domain. His trees, his sky, his home.

I saw the way Caesar looked out his window, the wistfulness in the gaze. I saw it too when I recounted stories of school. He was lonely, and as much I ask spent time with him, he was alone. Trapped in that room without the chance to feel the sun in his skin or wind through his fur.

I tried bringing him the world, snuck in candy he wasn’t allowed, brought books and movies not approved by Will, took photos and videos of everywhere I went.

But it was not enough. He deserved more. He should have had more.

9 months of this friendship and there was still so much to learn, so much to grow.

We still had time.

Finally reaching Will, he began to pack away the blanket when he saw us approach. “How far’d you go this time?”

“The Ranger’s cabin.” I answered, bending to close my abandoned homework books I was supposed to be working on today.

Caesar obediently walked up to Will, allowing him to reattach the leash.

We’d had an argument about that before, one night when Caesar was in his room and I’d met Will in the kitchen on one of our movie nights. I did not approve, Will said it was needed. I went home and refused to speak to Will for a week.

Packing my backpack, Caesar took it from me and slung it onto his own shoulder. Will finished with his own backpack and secured it to his back.

“What we watching tonight?” he asked.

“Gladiator.”

“Godzilla.”

Caesar and I turned to one another.

“Oh boy.”

Did I feel bad that Will now had to deal with two arguing teenagers fighting in the back seat about which movie to watch? No, I did not.

[memphisnovels]

Evermore

Chapter 14. Saw you in a dream

Previous chapter

Masterlist

Hi friends, apologies for the inconsistent uploads, things will get back on schedule after the next few weeks and it will be business as usual :))

pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OFC

warnings: big sisters Anna and Natasha, PTSD and trauma, Nadia totally isn't in denial, mentions of injuries.

I picked up my pace, pushing my body to move faster across the field. The sun bathed my flesh as I ran. Sweat beaded across my forehead but I ignored it, completing another lap around the compound. I’d decided to workout outside today, a decision which had nothing to do with the silver-haired Sokovian I’d spied venturing to the gym early this morning. I’d been training for the past few hours, cardio workout and then running laps. When my body was moving, I could avoid the things I didn’t want to deal with.

It wasn’t just the moment Pietro and I shared, Obolensky’s words had not left me. I’d laid awake in bed many nights since Moscow racking my brain, trying to understand. He wanted to live in our minds, to destroy us mentally, there was a real possibility that his questions about the ballet were nothing more than tactics to torture me. Yet, even with this in mind, the words would not leave me. There was this feeling deep within, something niggling and unyielding, something that called to me, begged me to look deeper.

“Are we gonna spend the whole day out here?” Natasha asked, shielding her eyes from the sun as she sat dropped down onto the grass.

I sighed exasperatedly, barely sparing her a glance. “It’s a beautiful day, the sun will be good for us.” I began a set of pushups.

“Oh right, so you’re definitely not just avoiding Pietro?”

“I am not avoiding him! I am… Jesus, can we not do this right now?”

She giggled, shaking her head at me. “Fine, we won’t but you owe me after this.”

I sat on the grass beside her, sipping from my water bottle. “What do you want?”

“Let’s go into the city, I need a break from Avengers business for a little while.” Laying out on the warm grass I stretched my limbs, laying my arm over my eyes to block the sun. “And by that, I mean I already booked us a hotel for Saturday night, a whole two-day away from the compound. That means we won’t have to get heat stroke just to avoid your boyfriend.”

The glare I sent her was vicious, it brought a grin to her face. I didn’t move from my position on the ground.

Natasha scoffed at me, moving to her feet and nodding toward the compound. “Are you coming or not?” She extended her hand out to me. The sound of a familiar Sokovian accent filled my ears. I accepted her hand swiftly, lurching to my feet.

“I want to talk to you about something,” I murmured as we reentered the compound. She glanced over at me, eyebrows slightly raised. “It’s about what we spoke about last week, what Obolensky said, the ballet thing.”

She nodded. “You think he was telling the truth?”

I shrugged. “He wanted to torture me but telling me the truth could be the best way to do that.” The look on Nat’s face was one I knew well, she did not need to say anything, there was an unspoken understanding between us. “It could be a lie to mix my head up, but if it’s not...”

“Okay.” She offered me a gentle smile then. “Let’s look into it. We’ll do it together.” She added, taking my hand slowly.

…

It was strange and almost beautiful the way the tree-dappled landscape transformed into skyscrapers, cars, and light pollution. I missed the city, it’s far too easy to breathe upstate, I longed for the smog. We had spoken to Tony before we left for the city. He said he had a plan, he said he’d work on it while Natasha and I were away, and we’d start operation: Swan Lake when we returned. I did not agree to that name.

The first item on the agenda was lunch, we’d stopped at a little, family-run restaurant that we’d frequented before relocating to the compound. The cheerful voice of Maria, one of the owners called our names as soon as we entered through the front doors. She was an elder woman whose face was lined with life experience, and I liked her quite a lot. Even when she insisted on hugging and kissing me each time, she greeted us. “I cannot believe you have finally come back! My, I think I’ll die and never see my favorite girls again.” She had a thick Italian accent that was immensely comforting to me. A basket of hot bread was placed in the center of our table the very moment we sat. “Oh my, Nadia, you are just devastating! You get more beautiful each time I see you.”

I shook my head at the woman who doted on me. “Oh, you are just trying to butter me up, so I order extra bread.” She laughed, kissing Natasha on the cheek before heading back toward the kitchen.

Everything seemed to move slower here, it was hard to explain, as though the moment you step through the doors into the candlelit restaurant you are transported into a sleepy town in Italy. The velvety music that played over the speakers easily covered the hustle and bustle of the city outside, the smell of basil and tomato lulling you into a serene kind of peacefulness that rids you of any negative thoughts.

We were halfway through lunch when Natasha finally asked me the question, I knew she’d been dying to. “So, I know that you know who is out of bounds for conversation but what about your love life in general?”

“What about it?”

“Well, how is it?”

I narrowed my eyes at her then. “How is yours, Natasha?”

“That’s mean.” I thawed slightly at the look in her eyes.

“Sorry.” A beat of silence passed between us. “How are you doing since… Banner went off the grid?”

She looked down at her plate, rubbing at the back of her neck. “Life goes on. Just getting through it I guess.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Is it easier for you to deal with it if you pretend it’s not happening?”

“As if you of all people are giving me crap about avoiding my problems.”

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. “I see your point.”

“No way, Nadia Pimenova acknowledging defeat?” I rolled my eyes playfully at her words. There was silence for a moment as she fiddled with her cutlery. “It’s like he just… disappeared, dropped off the face of the earth. I know that he needs time to deal with his stuff, I completely get that, but it’s really hard to just stay put knowing that he’s out there somewhere all alone.”

She pushed a lettuce leaf around her plate, resting her head on her hand. I reached across the table, placing my hand adjacent to hers. “He’s going to be fine, Nat, he’ll come back.” She offered me a sheepish smile, unconvincing at best. “And if he doesn’t, we will go find him together.” Her expression shifted then, the look in her eyes was one that I understood, even if it wasn’t one, I could define.

She would stick by my side whilst I navigated the terrifying road that was my past and I would stick by hers whilst she navigated the equally terrifying prospect of the future. The truth was she’d never needed to thank me for keeping her secret when she defected from the Red Room, for me, there had been no other conceivable option but to lie for her. I would never have sold her out, even when she was gone, I would stick by her. She was the first person who’d ever made me feel like I was not alone in the world. I did not blame her for what she did because I understood it. Matron Katerina and all of the other officials would never have been able to get New York out of me, because it was the one thing they could not take, the one thing that was ours to keep.

I took in a deep breath when we were on the street once more. “What are you doing?” Natasha asked.

“This city smells like shit… I missed it so much.”

She laughed wholeheartedly at my sentiment, pulling me along to walk beside her. We ate bagels and drank copious amounts of coffee and walked for hours. I loved every second.

“I feel like I’m going to explode if I even breathe too much,” I whined into my phone.

Anna’s breathy laugh carried over the line. “Nonna Maria’s and bagels will do that to you.”

“When are you coming back to New York?”

“When are you going to come visit me?”

I sighed exasperatedly. “You know how I feel about London,” I responded teasingly. A bark sounded in the background. “Georgie…” I said wistfully causing Anna to laugh at me yet again.

“So, what else is happening in your life outside of the wonderful reunion with Obolensky?”

Nat offered me a cheeky look as she walked past my spot on the hotel couch. I narrowed my eyes at her. “Don’t you dare.” I spoke quietly to her.

I realized my mistake the moment Anna asked me what I was talking about.

“Nothing, Natasha is just being inappropriate.”

“What’s happened that you aren’t telling me?” Natasha’s loud laughter filled the room. I threw a cushion at her head, though she dodged it easily. “Nadia I swear if you don’t tell me now I’m going to come down there and force it out of you.”

I maintained that Natasha was losing her mind.

“You are a filthy little liar, Nads. Tell me!”

“Pietro kissed her,” Natasha said, hiding behind a cupboard, narrowly dodging another cushion to the head.

“идиот,” I shouted at her.

Idiot.

Anna gasped before laughter once again filled the line. “I cannot believe you weren’t going to tell me about that!”

“It was nothing! He is stupid and he should not have done it.”

“But you did kiss him back,” Nat added.

The glare I sent her was nothing short of lethal. “Oh, I so called this!” Anna piped up. “Didn’t I tell you that he was completely obsessed with you?”

“Jesus, it was a mistake, okay?! He should not have kissed me, and I had a momentary lapse in sanity and facilitated it. Why can we not just move on and pretend like it never happened?”

There was silence in the room for a moment. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding him? You’re hoping he’ll what? Forget that you two made out on the balcony?”

“There was no making out! It was one kiss and I’m avoiding him so that he’ll get the message that I am no longer facilitating anything of the sort.”

“That’s a very sound plan.” Sarcasm dripped from each syllable Anna spoke.

Nat whirled on me then, eyes wide with delight. “So, you admit you’re avoiding him!”

I shook my head, opening and closing my mouth like a fish out of water. “This conversation is over! I have no interest in Pietro and he has no interest in me it was a heat of the moment decision that should have never happened and will never ever happen again!”

“Are you sure about that?”

I threw the final pillow from the couch at Nat.

“You’ve got a lot of anger in that little body! You know I can think of a really good outlet for that. He’s about 5’11 and brimming with boyish charm, something tells me he’d be more than happy for you to take it out on him.”

A chorus of laughter came from Natasha and Anna then.

“I am getting very sick of the sound of your voices. You are both delusional!” With that I abandoned my phone and the cackling redhead to collect myself in the bathroom. They were wrong, there was nothing between us, I was just overwhelmed it was the heat of the moment. I forced myself to stop thinking about the way his lips had felt, the way his breath had ghosted over my cheek, the look in his eyes. The sound of running water filled the room at I flicked the tap on, splashing the cold liquid onto my face.

Pietro had attempted to speak to me a minimum of 3 times a day since the night on the balcony. I’d done well in avoiding him so far. During training I’d tell him we could talk later and then I would simply find reasons not to be alone with him after. When I wasn’t avoiding him, I did my best to act completely unbothered by his presence, I was not as cold as I had been in the beginning, but I put forth an indifference toward him. I knew I couldn’t keep this up forever and though I told myself that I was just buying time to figure out what to say, I knew it wasn’t true. There was nothing much for me to say to him when I hadn’t the faintest idea what had prompted me to behave that way with him. It was baffling and the only explanation I’d managed to come up with was that I’d briefly been possessed by some demonic spirit who wanted to wreak havoc on my life. I suppose, truthfully, I was just hoping he’d forget about it before I actually had to face my moment of catastrophically poor judgement.

“Nads…”

“What,” I muttered into the darkness of the room.

A slight snort sounded. “Okay, grumpy.” There was silence for a long moment, the air shifted slightly, prompting me to bite back my next retort. “Do you ever feel like… I don’t know like a nonentity?”

“It is 1 a.m., Natasha.”

“I know, sorry. I’ve just been thinking a lot about the Red Room lately, I guess. It’s strange.” Her deep exhale was almost shaky. “When you first got out, I mean, did you feel like it was hard to rejoin normal life?”

Her question had me thinking back to that time, examining it for the first time in a long time. “There was no normal life for me… for a long time it didn’t really feel like there was even a me, not one that existed without the Red Room.”

“Right! I just feel like the second you’re out you're expected to assimilate, to be just like everyone else but I didn’t know how to do that. I’m not sure if I even do now, or if I’ve just become really good at faking it.”

“It’s been almost 10 years since I got out and there are times… so many times, when I look at other people and I’m not sure I’m ever going to be like that.” A heavy swallow allowed me to continue. “I don’t know who I was before it, it’s not easy to function like a normal human when the formative years you recall were spent learning ways to die most people couldn’t dream of.” 

Natasha was silenced momentarily by this. “I’m sorry if I’ve pushed you with the whole Pietro thing. I know it’s hard… believe me, I know.” I glanced toward her, unable to make out her face in the darkness. “What was done to us was monstrous. What was done to you… I only want you to be happy, I hate that you can’t let yourself be because of it.”

“I’m fine, Nat. Really.” I closed my eyes tightly for a moment, taking a deep breath. “I always am.”

“Because you’re a survivor.”

I rolled over, looking toward her bed. “I learned from the best.”

“It’s your choice, obviously, and you know I’ll have your back no matter what you decide, but I really don’t understand why you want to know whether what Obolensky said is true or not. I spend most of my time actively trying to forget the things that went on.”

It was complex. “What they did was monstrous… they took everything from us… maybe it will not be a pleasant memory, maybe there is nothing to remember, but I want to remember, I need to, Nat. This cannot be just another part of me that I do not get to hold on to.”

The room was lit only by the dim glow of streetlights I could hear the faint sound of traffic below us, petering out slightly at this time of night.

In that moment, everything felt just alright. Somehow, it was perfect.

…

My palms were sweating profusely as I sat in the chair, glancing at Natasha over my shoulder. “Still doing okay?” She asked. I nodded at her, closing my eyes for a moment as the headphones were places over my ears. The screen opened, a girl in covered in white tulle slipped onto the stage, moving stiffly to the classical music that echoed through my headphone. She was beautiful, graceful in a way that made it hard to look away, yet as I watched her, I felt nothing. No memories were sparked, there was nothing. It was the same time after time, for hours I sat and I watched, ballerina after ballerina danced across the stage and yet nothing changed for me. Hours passed me by while I sat there staring blankly at the screen as nothing occurred within my mind. Natasha stayed with me the whole time. At some point she placed a glass of water before me, yet I just continued to watch, never taking my eyes from the screen.

I was furious, how could I let him get to me like this, after all these years. Obolensky was just trying to torment me, and I’d let him. Rage simmered through my veins. I closed my eyes tightly, willing it to settle. Natasha had gone to find dinner some time ago now. I attempted to practice the techniques they used to tell us about in group, focus on one thing, breath into your belly. It didn’t work, I launched the now empty water glass at the wall, pacing back and forth. It was only when I felt the sharp slice of glass across my foot that I stopped. Glancing down, I saw blood smeared across the shards, crimson dripping coating my flesh. I took my seat once more, beginning to pick the smaller fragments from the ball of my foot. Bloody footprints followed me across the shiny floors as I wandered toward the med bay in search of a bandage. When I spotted a roll, I grabbed it and took it back to the room I’d been in, beginning to wrap my foot as one of the ballets came to an end.

I rested my head in my hands, closing my eyes again. That’s how I was positioned when the music began, it was beautiful, but it wasn’t the first time I’d heard it. I felt the sound travel across my shoulders, up my neck, and then back down again, along my spine inducing a shiver.

 ‘Corps de ballet of the State Academic Bolshoi Theatre presents Giselle.’

Those were the words I saw written across the screen when my eyes opened.

There were flashes of red and blue, white and tulle, over and over.

My back was pressed flush to cold metal. I could not move my head or my arms, my legs might have been numb, or maybe they were no longer there. I wasn’t sure. The music had filled my ears for so long that it seemed to have become a part of me, I could not remember where it ended and I began, had it played all my life; perhaps.

There was a ringing sound in my ears.

Giselle was on the stage then. The man she loved was engaged to another, he had lied to her and now she was dead. Then she wasn’t, she came back an apparition, cursed to dance with wanderers until the exhaustion took them to the grave. I thought the girl looked young and she was so sad.

When I blinked, I was back in the compound, my hands were in fists, fingernails digging into the flesh of my palms. My heart was thrumming against my sternum and every muscle in my body was strung tightly. I swallowed heavily, blinking and once again I was transported. Gasping breaths, and cries, that was what filled my ears then, but it was only for a second before it was gone. With a blink there was a man before me tightening binds over my body, placing something over my eyes, another blink and it was gone.

“Nadia?”

I yanked against my binds. The room was white, I think but really, I couldn’t remember. The straps were chaffing against my wrists from how much I’d pulled at them.

“Nadia.”

Again, and again my name was called but I couldn’t tell from where it originated. I gritted my teeth, squaring my shoulders and shutting my eyes, attempting to ground myself; to return to my body. The music was still playing, though it was almost as if I were listening to it underwater. A group of dancers entered the darkened stage, each wearing long white dresses. The man was back, he bent down and peered at me through large, black-framed glasses. I did not recognize him, nor did I recognize this place, this was not the Red Room. I’d never been here before, yet here I was now. The man was speaking, I could hear his voice, but I did not know what he was saying. It was all garbled and muddled. I couldn’t move any part of my body, strapped so tightly to the metal beneath me. I thought there might be tears in my eyes then.

My name was called again. I strained, attempting to find the voice, to come back. The bespectacled man leaned in again, reaching out toward me, a shining needle in his hand. I flinched away from it, but he took ahold of my face. The gentle touch confused me, but when I opened my eyes again, I understood. I was back in the compound, chest rising and falling rapidly, my arms were pressed to the chair, but I was not bound. My eyes danced across the man before me, dark hair and matching eyes.

“Just breathe.”

I was gone again then, but not to the table where I had been bound. I was on the street. There were buildings and some trees planted around the sidewalk. Brick apartment complexes and fire escape lined walls. New York? The breeze tousled my hair slightly, but it barely moved, when I looked down, I saw… plaits, hanging from either side of my head. The sun kissed my cheeks, peeking through the leaves of trees, seeking me out. A voice called down the street, but I did not understand what the person had said. When I looked up, I only saw his back. A young boy walked ahead of me, he wore a dark red backpack with a little key ring hanging from the zip, I couldn’t make it out. I began forward, attempting to catch up with the boy, I reached out toward him when I was less than a pace away, my hand almost making contact with his bag when a voice cut echoed through my mind.

“Nadia, are you still with me?” Tony asked, I could feel the warmth of his hands over my wrists, willing me to come back.

I did. My head was spinning, and I felt unwell. I blinked a few times, but I stayed put, my mind seemingly tethering itself back to my body. Looking around the room I found it the same as it had been before, glass still shattered on the floor. I met Tony’s eyes. Just past him stood Natasha in the doorway with an exceptionally concerned expression.

“He wasn’t lying.” When I spoke, my voice did not sound like me, shaky and wrecked.

For the first time in days, I was in a rush to go train. Natasha and Tony followed behind me with concerned expressions, saying that they wanted to debrief first, they wanted to know what I’d seen. I didn’t really know how to tell them when truthfully, I did not really understand what I’d seen. A jumble of moments that seem completely disjointed and entirely unfamiliar to me. I wanted out of the stuffy room, I needed to move my body, to hit something; to feel something other than the trembling, cold that burrowed into my bones when I thought about the man in the glasses.

After an icy shower, I was straight into the gym, gesturing for Pietro to follow. “We’re sparring,” I said before he had a chance to speak, my tone leaving no room for argument.

I dodged the jab he threw at me, slipping beneath his arm to move behind him, giving him a few slight pointers as we sparred but offering nothing beyond that. There were no taunting remarks from me or mildly flirtatious commentaries from him, it was making my skin crawl, this strange dynamic that we’d fallen into. Particularly now when all I wanted was to focus on something other than the jarring images I’d just endured.

I stretched my arms above my head, cracking my neck before we moved to the punching bag. With a gesture, I told him to begin. His jaw was tense as he began, his stance was perfect as were each of his punches. I wandered around the bag, my eyes trailing over his form. Then he changed his pattern, sending a kick to the bag… with his foot. He sent a glance my way then, eyebrows raised slightly. “Shin, remember how I showed you,” I muttered, attempting to keep my voice nonchalant.

“That’s it!” He exclaimed suddenly, throwing his hands in the air. “I can take no more of this.” I watched him with furrowed eyebrows, not entirely surprised by his outburst and, frankly, feeling slightly relieved at the forced shift in my focus. “How can I make it better? Just tell me what to do to fix things, Nadia.”

I asked him what he meant.

“I preferred it when you acted like you hated me because at least I understood what you were feeling.” He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots. “What did I do wrong here?”

A heavy, sickly feeling pooled in my stomach. The same one that had filled me on the balcony when the hurt had flashed across his expression. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” A little truth, I supposed I owed him that much. “You did nothing wrong, Pietro.”

“We cannot continue like this. I won’t.”  He said, crossing his arms over his chest, he took a step toward me.

“Let’s just forget it ever happened.”

His eyes met mine then, an unreadable expression on his face. “That’s what you want?”

I nodded, once, firm. “I will be your friend, and we will forget about all the other stuff.”

“Friends?”

I nodded again. He mirrored my action, wringing his hands together slightly. “Oh, and don’t ever kick with your fucking foot again.”

[cyclogenesis]

life update, sry for absence, you will literally not believe the breadth and depth of fuckery I have been facing down these last few weeks including the last insane 24 hours

Cannot overstate how obscenely ridiculous things have gotten for me. I thought I felt Seasonal Affective Disorder looming at the turn of September to October but I think now it was just a sense of general foreboding. 

So I’m trying to truck along these last few weeks, sad as hell about my beloved cat, and then for the third time this year I have to find a new psychiatrist. I take Adderall for my ADHD, I have for six+ years, I see telehealth providers for monthly five minute appointments to be like yes I still need Adderall please send the prescription thanks. Walgreens causes a problem too fucking stupid to get into with psych #1 this year, I go out of my way to explicitly confirm this same problem won’t crop up with psych #2. No it’ll be fine he says. He was wrong, because he apparently didn’t know what he was talking about, and instead of looking into it for clarification he just said meaningless words to shut me up. 

The problem crops up again. We try three different pharmacies to try and get around it. Doesn’t work. I have to find a new psychiatrist. Again. Takes weeks. I finally find a place where god willing this dumb issue will not crop up again. I get an appointment for last Friday morning. Yay!!!! I decide to start seeing a new therapist too since one was on offer and I was feeling rough. (Last Thursday I said yes to the appointment. This is when I was already having a hard time.)

I see this new psych. He tells me that he’s going to hold the Adderall prescription hostage until I get an EKG and also a bunch of lab tests done. He watches me visibly wilt like a flower trapped in a bell jar. Fine. I go to Quest Diagnostics like he told me to. I get there at 10:30am and I’m #10 on the standby list. At 12:30pm I’m still #10 on the standby list and the nurse comes out and tells us all basically there’s no chance. I pay $6 for parking and leave having wasted two hours and six dollars. 

Fine. I make an appointment for Tuesday, the soonest I could get. (Great, that won’t already be a stressful day!) I find an urgent care place as suggested for the EKG. It’s a mile and a half away. I walk there. I wait an hour and forty minutes before a nurse comes to take my vitals. Because I didn’t expect to be waiting in the exam room for so long I’d taken my jacket off and then got too lazy to get back up and get it even though the AC had inexplicably kicked on. Because of this, and because anxiety makes my extremities go numb, my hands were so cold she had to take multiple pulse oximeter readings. “I’m a vampire,” I joked. “I’m actually dating a vampire,” the nurse said. She explained her boyfriend is Bela Lugosi’s grandson. Los Angeles: lmao. From outside as my eventual results are shared with the doctor I hear, “How is she awake??” 

I put my jacket back on as I wait for the doctor. I lie down. I stick my hands in my pockets. I try to think relaxing thoughts, going to my happy place: earlier this year, the beach at Cannes, walking ankle deep in the Mediterranean. I run through entire Sarah McLachlan songs in my head. By the time the doctor comes in for the EKG I’m feeling very chill. 

Too chill. The doctor has a ridiculously hard time getting a good reading. I’m lying there in an open front paper gown, topless, hooked up to this machine with wires coming off me like a desktop computer running Windows 96. She keeps having to move the little sticker things. We’ve been having a good time since she had to pull out the footrests and keep pulling. “I’m 5’11,” I told her. “I was always mad I didn’t hit six feet.”

“You should just lie,” she said, “How would they know?” I love her. Going forward I will lie. Doctor’s orders! 

I joke that given my previous case of corpse fingers with the pulse oximeter that I’m just a ghost and that’s the issue. She points out that it’s the Day of the Dead. I tell her I tried to haunt my family but their shrines sucked and nobody did the cool skull makeup so I decided to come fuck with some doctors. She laughs. I laugh. We continue to joke around. I love it. All I ever want to do is make people laugh. 

On the third try she finally gets a decent EKG reading though she’s iffy that she may need to do a fourth. Nope, this one is fine. I get to leave. I arrange to have the results faxed to my new psych. “Wait, is my heart okay? Haha,” I say to the receptionist. She passes me a copy of the results and tells me to talk to my doctor. 

It’s all fun and games until I’m walking out at 7:10pm on a Friday night into the cold dark evening with a 1.5 mile walk in front of me and abnormal EKG results that say “possible left atrial enlargement” and “abnormal right axis deviation” and “incomplete right bundle branch block” and “consistent with pulmonary disease”.

Oh. Um. Well. Okay. 

Googling all this leads to results that are scary and not in the “I googled my hangnail and WebMD says I have fingernail cancer” way, more in the there’s actually only so many things all of this together can mean and also the words “consistent with pulmonary disease” are in fact right there in black ink sort of way. Lots of stuff about the very increased likelihood of heart attacks. You hate to see that!!!!

In retrospect maybe it has been weird that I’ve been so aware of my heartbeat all the time lately. Maybe it hasn’t just been caffeine and stress. Well, I’ll call my GP first thing Monday and beg for an appointment ASAP, obviously. In the meantime I’ll try not to freak out. I’ll try to avoid additional stress. 

But, you know, I’ve been meaning to call my grandmother anyway. I still haven’t told her about Klaus. Our relationship has been shaky these last few years since I became estranged from my parents in 2021 after they went QAnon and decided that believing Facebook memes was more important than their relationship with their only child (me!!) and she got mad at me for standing up to them ever. Also she was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer in July so that’s been rough. But I figure she should be in the loop. 

I get ahold of her last night. I tell her there’s stuff going on with me, but she should tell me what’s up with her first. I await news of who triumphed in this week’s game of Yahtzee with her cousin and whether or not the Warriors or whatever sports team she’s keeping up with right now are winning. 

“Well, I wasn’t going to tell you because I know you don’t really care what’s going on with them, but your mom’s moved in with me because your parents are getting a divorce,” she says. 

First I explain, again, as she knows, because she was there, that they are the ones that rejected me. I remind her that my mom got in touch last Thanksgiving saying she missed me and wanted to see me and that I said I felt the same, we just needed to have a serious talk first. I remind her that my mom completely fucking ghosted me after that and has not tried to get in touch since. Even unfriended me on Facebook. Been almost a year now. My parents’ entire relationship with me is less important than their unwillingness to have even one single solitary fucking grown-up conversation. This is a fact. 

And then I’m like, also what???????????????

So apparently my dad (stepdad actually, but he married my mom when I was seven and he’s the only person I’ve ever called Dad) told my mom they should move back to the Central Valley. He said they should sell their house in Sacramento and she should quit her job up there and try to find a new one in Fresno. They sell their house and use the extra to pay off debts, because they are morons who have always lived paycheck to paycheck no matter how big or small those paychecks are. 

Mom asks Grammy if she can move in with her in Fresno while she looks for a new job. Grammy says no. Mom moves in her friend Diane, who was widowed after her idiot MAGA antivaxxer husband got Covid (which he didn’t believe in) and ended up getting an entire lung transplant and then dying anyway. Mom gets a job in Fresno but she doesn’t like it so she quits. 

My stepdad meanwhile has a one bedroom apartment in Sacramento and is still working at his job up there. He puts a bunch of their stuff in storage in Fresno in anticipation of the move. My mom goes up to visit and they celebrate their 34th wedding anniversary. Everything’s fine. 

A week later he calls and says he’s divorcing her. She can keep all the stuff that’s in storage in Fresno. This apparently comes out of nowhere, though not for him I guess (lol?). 

Diane’s landlord finds out my mom’s living there and threatens to evict them due to the unauthorized tenant. Mom has to move in with Grammy. 

And that’s what you missed on Glee!!!!!!!!!

With that out of the way, I tell Grammy my cat died and also I likely have some kind of lung disease and my heart’s maybe fucked. I tell her luckily lol I’m starting therapy again and she says she doesn’t understand that and that she gets depressed sometimes and then she gets over it. She tells me I should get a job because she knows I don’t make enough from my shop. I explain that I’m trying to avoid stress right now because it could very literally give me an actual genuine fucking heart attack. She continues to be a dick because instead of using any of her 85 years of life on this planet to try to become emotionally healthy she has chosen again and again to just lash out when she’s upset and never grow as a person in any capacity whatsoever. I am grateful again that I’m able to take her and my parents as examples of what I don’t want to be. I am far more patient with her than she deserves and we part on decent terms. 

I immediately proceed to storytime this bitch out with the besties. Everyone’s like “What?????” and I’m like “I know!!!!!”

The funniest part is that the parental estrangement was due largely to my mom just fully choosing my stepdad over me, her only child. Which like wasn’t even a surprise really, as she had told me once in a childish and unexpected outburst of anger that she didn’t have a choice but to have me. (Sure she did. She just buried her head in the sand until it was too late.) So it made sense that it would be my stepdad. He was the one she felt she got to choose. Also, she is an asshole.

Hope she feels great now about making that call, lmao!!! How’d that one work out queen?? No husband, no daughter, 62 years old moved back in with your mom who didn’t even want you there, huh? Yikes!!

So anyway, my GP’s office opens in twenty minutes, please cross your fingers for me that I’ll be able to schedule an appointment sometime before my heart bursts out of my chest like the alien in Alien and then dons a tophat and tapdances away from this clusterfuck, an action for which I would not blame it tbh. (Edit: They don't have any appointments until April [what?!] but they have walk-in hours thrice a week. I will get there at 10am Wednesday morning and hopefully they will see me.) New therapist appointment is at 12:30pm, best of luck to her with this goddamned Pandora’s box of bullshit that I’m about to unleash on her. 

Gonna try to relax in the meantime as I am at this moment very aware of the consistent thumping of the tell-tale thing inside my chest. Wish me luck!

[staceymcgillicuddy]

15!!

Welp, this one got me all in my feelings, Nonnie! Thank you! I hope you like it! (For the requestors of #s 10 and 6, I'm getting to them asap!)

“Doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a piece of paper.” 

Eddie shrugs off compliments as quickly as he does a shirt. Chrissy hates it, which is saying something, considering she’s not exactly prone to accepting kind words from other people. 

But Eddie… it’s not even like he demurs, or smiles and waves it off politely. No, Eddie picks apart. Second guesses. Turns any kindness into a joke at his own expense. 

It is sometimes very tiring to love someone who hasn’t learned to love themselves. Again, Chrissy gets the irony, but she’s working on it. She sees (saw) Miss Kelly three times a week, and she’s starting community college in the fall, and she eats without throwing up, most days. She’s been looking into apartments near campus and trying to convince Eddie to move in with her, and she tries, tries, tries so hard to believe him when he tells her that she’s pretty and he loves her and he thinks the way she squawks when she laughs too hard is endearing. 

Eddie, though, is stuck in time. In a cycle of self-deprecation where, sure, he has discovered himself and his niche interests, and he has the kids and his friends and the band and Wayne and Chrissy. But none of that changes the fact that, beneath the hair and the rings and the scary skull t-shirts, Eddie doesn’t think he’s worthy of praise. Thinks he’s still that kid with the deadbeat dad and the crazy mom. The kid who comes to school with clothes smelling of mildew because his mother left them damp in the laundromat for hours on end while she and Eddie went on an ‘adventure’, which is what he calls it when he talks about her at all. The kid who missed two weeks of second grade when his father yanked him out and took him on a road trip across the midwest to do a favor for some buddies who Chrissy’s pretty sure were loan sharks. Al needed Eddie as a decoy; apparently, it worked. 

Eddie’s the kid who figured himself out late. Who hates himself more than any bully ever could. Who piles on the affectations of his personal popular culture to cover the fundamental insecurities of his belief system beneath. 

He doesn’t believe he’s smart.

He doesn’t believe he’s handsome.

He doesn’t believe he’s worthy.

That last one is the kicker because it’s not just about Chrissy. Not just about the love he’s willing to accept from her, or Wayne, or the kids who worship the ground he walks on. No, that one’s about worthiness to… to be. To live. To stake his claim in a world beyond the safe misery of high school and decide who he'll be outside the confines of what he’s always claimed is a prison. 

Stuck around two extra years, though, and that’s the thing. 

Chrissy rolls over. Digs her pointy chin into Eddie’s bare sternum and looks at him with eye-crossing determination. “It’s not, though. It’s more than that.” 

“Maybe if I’d gotten it two—” 

“It’s a diploma. You earned it. And that means a lot.” 

Three Sentence Prompts

[ejzah]

A/N: Once again, sorry for the long break between updates. I appreciate the continued love for this story!

***

In Miss Blye’s Class, Part 24

***

Roberta and Caleb returned right around dinner time as Deeks predicted. He and Kensi had enjoyed a nice lunch out and a walk on the beach to finish out their weekend.

“Daddy, I missed you!” Caleb exclaimed when he burst through the door with his duffel bag and some kind of stuffed animal under one arm, Roberta entering behind him. He dropped both immediately in favor of throwing himself at Deeks.

Deeks squatted and caught him against his chest, hugging him tightly.

“Hey, I missed you too, kiddo.”

Kensi hung back, wanting to give them a moment, but as soon as Caleb released Deeks, he turned to her with a huge smile.

“Kensi! I didn’t know you’d be here too.” He gave her an equally effusive hug. Kensi looked over his head at Deeks, who watched them fondly.

“Did you have a good time with Grandma?” Deeks asked as Caleb finished his round of greetings.”

“Uh-huh. I got a stuffed walrus,” Caleb answered, running to get stuffed toy.

“Nice. That’s just what you’ve been missing from your collection.”

“I know. And we went to restaurant that as a train in the middle of the table!”

“Raising the expectations, I see,” Deeks teased, turning towards Roberta.

“Hey, that’s my job as his grandma. I could have done a lot worse,” she said with a warning tone. Deeks just chuckled and got to his feet, offering her a one-armed hug.

“Caleb, you tell Grandma thanks?”

“Yep.” Busy making his walrus clap, Caleb looked up long enough to answer.

“Good job. Why don’t you go put away your stuff and then we’ll have dinner,” Deeks said, giving Caleb a light pat on the butt.

“Ok!” Caleb started to run off, but turned back after a few steps. “Wait, are you gonna stay, Kensi?”

They hadn’t actually discussed that detail; she caught Deeks eye, and he nodded encouragingly.

“Yes, I’d love too,” she answered. Caleb gave a whoop, taking off again with his walrus and bag dragging behind him.

“Looks like you two enjoyed your free time,” Roberta observed looking between them with a smirk. “Good for you, kiddo.”

Without thinking, Kensi glanced at Deeks, expecting to see signs of their indiscretions, but his hair was its usual level of tousled and any possible marks weren’t visible at the moment. She realized her mistake a second too late, and dipped her head.

“Uh-huh, that’s what I thought. I hope you used protection.”

“Mom,” Deeks protested with a groan, the tops of his cheekbones flushing a light pink. Kensi found it perfectly adorable amidst her own embarrassment.

“What, it’s perfectly natural. Hey, I’m surprised you left your bed all weekend.”

“Once again, Kensi, I apologize for my mother. She’s never heard of boundaries before,” Deeks said, turning to Kensi with a strained face.

“It’s ok,” Kensi assured him. “We had a very nice weekend, Roberta.”

“Well, good. If you ever need another break, let me know.”

“You’re not staying for dinner?” Deeks asked.

“Nah, I got a date,” Roberta said, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh good lord.” Pinching his nose, Deeks called over his shoulder as Roberta left, “Have fun.”

***

Another two weeks passed with lightning speed. Between the school year quickly approaching the end and each of their busy work schedules, there didn’t seem to be enough time in the day. Not that Deeks would ever complain; this was the happiest he’d ever been, and a few late nights or early mornings to catch up on paperwork were well worth it.

Tuesday was one of those days. Instead of meeting for dinner, he and Kensi had decided to focus on everything that had piled up recently. For Deeks, that meant a thorough cleaning of the house, restocking the fridge, and finishing a contract for a new client he’d meet with next week.

“Dad, can’t we finish this tomorrow?” Caleb begged, groaning over a small pile of socks. Usually, he didn’t mind chores, but he’d been itching to go outside for the last couple of hours.

“We gotta get the laundry today, kiddo. Otherwise you won’t have any underwear for the rest of the week,” Deeks told him.

“But it’s taking for-ev-er!” Caleb groaned, dramatically tossing his head back. Holding back a smile, Deeks leaned across his bed, where they’d piled the clean laundry.

“Hey, I bet you can’t fold more piece of laundry than me.”

Tilting his head, Caleb considered the taunt for a moment.

“What if I do?”

“Mm, winner gets an extra scoop of ice cream tonight,” Deeks decided.

“Deal.” Now moving at lightning speed, Caleb threw himself into the pile of clothes and towels, and began grabbing pieces at random.

The doorbell rang a few minutes later, and Deeks got up, pointing a warning finger at him. “Don’t steal any from my pile while I’m gone.”

“I won’t!” Caleb promised, with a mischievous giggle.

Shaking his head, Deeks headed for the front door, and pulled it open, expecting package or kid selling chocolate.

“Monica,” he whispered, starting in shock at the woman standing in front of him.

***

A/N: Whoops.