#anyway. man. I'm an emotional wreck

[lucyvaleheart]

.

[tricycle-jaune]

dude, i just saw a star is born and (spoiler alert) WHY NOBODY TOLD ME IT WAS A SO DEEP EMOTIONAL MOVIE ???? IM DEVASTATED DAMN IT. i cried so much my throat is hurting (it doesn’t make any sense help)

what a performance, stefani germanotta is phenomenal, the chemistry with bradley james is unreal, i didn’t regret this past 2 hours, a must see indeed.

[avatar-anna]

Champagne Problems

so...this is super long, the longest fic i've written in a hot minute. like 18.k words long. i wasn't going to post it until part two was underway, but i'm kind of excited to share it. here is the aftermath of champagne problems...

Part Two

*.*

"Don Perignon, you bought it, no crowd of friends applauded, your hometown skeptics called it Champagne problems."

Your fingers moved across the keys of the grand piano as you mumbled softly to yourself, only loud enough that the voice recorder on your phone would pick up on it. This wasn't your typical method of songwriting, you weren't even sure there was a song to actually write; but the melody had been haunting you for days, pressing against your mind until you finally sat down and played it.

It wasn't often you thought of the events that occurred a year and a half ago. You usually did everything in your power not to think about that night, knowing that nothing ever good came out of dwelling on that particular wrinkle of your past. You only looked forward, sometimes hoping that if you didn't think about what happened, your memories of the worst night of your life would eventually disappear from your mind altogether.

But there was something about this melody that brought that night to the forefront of your memory. You'd played it over and over on the piano for a few minutes, waiting for the words to come. Your mind kept circling back to the past, and after trying to avoid it, you finally let emotion win out. No one was in the studio with you anyway, it would be safe to unlock that particular box. Just for a few minutes.

"She would've made such a lovely bride, what a shame she's fucked up in the head," you said to yourself, the last part coming out as an afterthought. You laughed a little to yourself, remembering the disapproving stares and the whispers behind your back that people always thought went unnoticed by you. "But you'll find the real thing instead. She'll patch up your tapestry that I shed."

Despite knowing that leaving your would-be fiance was the right choice for you, breaking up with him was the hardest thing you'd ever done. It still hurt to remember that night, to recall the look of absolute devastation on his face when you stopped him from reaching into his pocket for the little velvet box you knew was in there. He didn't deserve to be wrecked so thoroughly, especially by someone like you. He had been sweet and kind and gentlemanly. He treated you like a princess and defended you to his family when they didn't approve. He was everything a man should've been to you and more.

And all you could do in return was prove his family right.

You stopped murmuring lyrics for a moment, letting that last thought float through the empty room on somber notes. You thought about your ex now, wondering where he was now and hoping he was well. You hoped he was in love and happy, that he'd forgotten all about you. He deserved all the best things that love could grant a person. You wanted that for him. You wanted someone who had the capacity for the kind of love he wanted to give.

Repeating the last few lines again, the next few thoughts came pouring out of you, the words carrying a bittersweet taste to them.

"Your mom's ring in your pocket, her picture in your wallet, you won't remember all my Champagne problems."

The song tapered off soon after that, and you realized there was nothing left in you to say. You felt lighter afterwards, as if pushing some of those long-forgotten memories out of you and onto the grand piano eased the weight you'd been carrying around on your shoulders for the last eighteen months. Quickly stopping the recording, you set a reminder on your phone to listen to it tomorrow and write down everything you'd said. The recording itself was lengthy, long pauses stretching between lyrics as you worked through your memories and attempted to vocalize them. Hopefully something was there to actually mold into verses and a chorus, if not, it was a rather odd but surprisingly satisfying therapy session.

Gathering your things into the bag at your feet, you stood up from the piano, stretching your arms above your head. It was easy to get lost in a good melody, but your poor body always paid the price if you spent too much time bent over a guitar or piano.

It was as you stretched that you realized someone was at the door. He was leaning against the doorframe, watching as you shouldered your bag and slipped your shoes back on your socked feet. He didn't say anything as you walked over to him, just stepped out of the way so you could walk out of the studio. Harry normally wasn't this quiet, in fact, he could be quite the chatterbox if the mood struck him. But his silence told you he'd probably heard more of your session than you would've liked. Because one thing Harry liked to do in all his chattering was pepper you with questions about yourself, which was annoying since you were constantly trying to have him not get to know you.

"Coffee?" was all he said as you walked toward the elevator at the end of the hall. The sleeve of his patterned sweater brushed against your arm, and you resisted the urge to lean into him. He always wore the coziest clothes when in the studio, and it made you want to walk just a little bit closer to his side, for no other reason than the feel of soft material on your arm and not the person wearing them.

Nodding, you said, "Sure."

Harry qucikly pressed the button when you reached the elevator, and you couldn't help but laugh a little. In the time you'd spent not getting to know him, you discovered that he was the kind of person that just had to press the elevator buttons. It didn't matter how many people he was with, it was like he took joy in something as simple as getting to press a button and watch it light up beneath his finger. He'd actually speed-walked to get ahead of you a couple times just so he could press the down button. It was kind of annoying, and perhaps a little childish, but you'd surprisingly grown to find it endearing. A quirk of Harry's that just made him who he was.

The ride down the elevator was quiet, and it wasn't until you were out on the street that he finally spoke. "I'm thinking about getting a pet."

You'd been bracing yourself for the inevitable questions about the song you'd been recording, and when they didn't come, your shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly, though you were sure Harry noticed. "Really?"

"Yeah. All my friends are disgustingly in love," Harry said with a playful shudder. "I'm feeling like a third wheel most days, so I thought I would seek companionship of the furry variety. Wait, that came out wrong. I didn't mean—"

You chuckled at his stuttering, at the flush creeping up his neck and warming his cheeks. "I know what you mean," you said, sparing him any more embarrassment. "So what are you thinking then? Dog? Cat? Hamster?"

"Well, you see, that's the thing," he said, quickly recovering from his chagrin. "I'm not sure I have the time necessary to devote to training a puppy, but I'm also worried about getting a cat and it absolutely hating me, and..."

You listened as Harry explained in great detail the pros and cons of each kind of domestic animal one could have. He spoke animatedly with his hands, looking at you with those big green eyes of his, as if to make sure you were following his train of thought.

You never planned on befriending Harry, and even now you weren't sure that whatever was going on between you was considered a friendship. You'd always been the type to keep to yourself, especially after what happened with your ex. You'd not only lost him after the break up, but friends too, friends who thought that what you did to your ex was despicable and reprehensible and not worth keeping a friendship over, picking sides when you hadn't realized there were any. It hurt to lose so many people in one fell swoop, and you decided soon after that you were better off alone. Except for your brothers of course, but all of you kept so busy that it was hard to keep track of one another on a good day.

Outside of them, you realized it was hard to hurt someone when there was no one around you to hurt.

But Harry was different. You'd seen him around the building where you worked on your songs—in the hallways, waiting for the elevator (after pushing the button, of course), at the vending machine, on your way out of the studio or while he was entering it to start his session. The first thing you noticed was that he was never alone. Well, that wasn't entirely true. The first thing you really noticed was his smile, how it lit up his entire face and showcased the most adorable dimples you'd ever seen. But since you refused to admit that, the first thing you noticed was that he was never alone.

Harry was always coming and going with one or two or sometimes three people around him. He was always engaged in some kind of conversation, his head always turned as he listened aptly to what his friend was saying. It seemed so odd to you that he was hardly ever by himself. It was like a foreign language to you, and you imagined your constant solitude felt the same to him.

"Anytime you want to weigh in here would be great."

"If you want a pet, get one," you said simply.

Harry rolled his eyes as he held open the door to the coffee shop a couple blocks down the street from the building where you both worked, as if he was expecting anything other than your usual direct way of speaking. "If you don't keep this conversation going, then I'm going to have to ask about that incredibly depressing song you were working on, so please, indulge me in the great pet debate of twenty-eighteen."

For the most part, Harry was a pretty easy going guy. He had no problem carrying a conversation, and knew when not to pry. As the months went by, though, he knew how to get you to talk, how to find trap doors in the fortified walls you kept around yourself before you even knew they were there. It would be frustrating if his questions didn't always come with an endearing smile.

So you shrugged, eager to steer clear of any topics regarding your past. "I don't know, I'm a little biased. I've always been a dog person. Buddy's my best friend."

"First of all, I'm offended by the fact that I am not your best friend, and second, since when do you have a dog?"

The conversation paused while you and Harry went up to the counter to order you coffees. Both of you went there enough that the staff knew what you liked—dirty chai for you and an americano for him. It also meant you didn't have to deal with the barista having a mini-freak out at the realization that Harry Styles was in their coffee house. People tended to interrupt your conversations with Harry regularly—on the street, in line for coffee, at the table—but he never seemed bothered by it. He always smiled and indulged in a couple minutes of conversation and the occasional picture before waving goodbye. He always apologized to you afterward, but after the first couple times it happened, you waved him off. None of it was actually his fault, and seeing him interact with his fans became something you actually enjoyed watching. And it was perhaps a very small reminder as to why you preferred to just write songs for other artists, not perform them. You didn't need that kind of attention. For Harry, he seemed to come alive like a flower in bloom.

You? You would probably just wilt.

When you and Harry sat down with your drinks, he raised his brows for you to continue. Wrapping your hands around your cup, you shrugged again. "I've had Buddy for about a year now."

"What kind of dog?"

"Mostly pitbull, I think. I found him in an alley behind a restaurant once, and I know what shelters do to pitbulls, so I adopted him."

You'd come to think of the whole thing as Buddy finding you.

"And you named him Buddy?"

"Yeah, I don't know, after Buddy Holly I guess." You'd grown up listening to classic rock because your brothers did, and the name just kind of made sense to you. And he was just so cute, he was your little buddy. Big buddy now, you supposed. You thought he deserved the cutest name for the cutest boy in your life.

The rest of your time in the coffee house was filled with chatter, mostly from Harry. He talked a little more about the Great Pet Debate, then about the project he and his team was working on. An album, though they were only just getting started seeing as Harry just came back from tour. He tried peppering you with the occasional question, knowing if he asked too many you'd clam up and shut down. It was almost like Harry knew that you were fighting getting to know him, but that it wasn't just him, it was everyone. He was patient with you for some reason, though, seemingly content to chip away at the brick walls around you. Even if all he had was a spoon.

"So...What were you working on at the studio?" Harry finally asked.

You knew it was coming, so answering didn't seem so daunting. "I'm not really sure. The melody had been in my head for days, and I finally decided to play around with it."

"A perfect non-answer from Y/n L/n, everyone," Harry said, though you knew he was joking. His eyes were crinkled with mirth as he hid behind his cup, his brows raising to give you a knowing look.

Nothing about your past was easy to talk about, so you just didn't. After your breakup, you didn't even tell your brothers the finer details, not wanting to relive it or face all their questions. It all brought you an overwhelming sense of shame and despair. But maybe there had been something cathartic about your session today and it left you feeling lighter and open because you found yourself sharing more with Harry.

"It...reminded of me and my ex, so I kind of just let it all out. I'm not even sure what I was doing constituted as songwriting, but," you looked down at your mug. "The melody dredged up some old memories, I guess."

"It sounded painful," Harry said, his voice taking on a soft, sincere tone.

You knew he meant well, but the sympathy made you skittish. "It's fine. It was a long time ago."

"Right, of course," Harry said, catching on to your mood change. "Well, um, my friends and I are having a little get-together of sorts this Saturday. You should come."

"A party?"

"No. A get-together. Very different," Harry corrected.

It made sense, the last time Harry tried to invite you to a party his friend was throwing, you politely declined, claiming they weren't really your thing. They weren't, but it was more that having friends wasn't really your thing.

You wanted to say no again, but when you met Harry's eyes, something in you hesitated. His expression was open, earnest, like he would genuinely be upset if you said you wouldn't come. You didn't quite understand why he wanted to spend time with you so much. Maybe you felt a little bad for always pushing him away, or maybe you were actually warming up to him.

"I, um...that might be fun," you said, not sure if it was nerves or excitement swimming in your belly.

The way Harry's face lit up made saying you would come worth it.

After a few more minutes at the coffee house, you and Harry went your separate ways, but not before he made you promise to join you on one of your morning walks with Buddy Holly. Something must've been in the air today, because you found yourself nodding before heading down the street away from him.

On your way home, you got a phone call from your oldest brother Evan. "Hey, Evan. How's life treating you in the Big Apple?"

"Just fine. It'd be a lot better if I got to see my kid sister more often. Are you still coming for Thanksgiving?"

Of your three brothers, Evan was the one who checked up on you the most. Perhaps that was the nature of being the oldest of four, but he had always been the most responsible, the one to keep you and your other brothers in line. Well, mostly your other brothers. But Evan had always looked out for you. He was the only one you told at length about your breakup. You'd confided in him all your life, and he was coincidentally the only one of your brothers you could count on not to go and beat up on your ex or his family.

"Flight's booked and everything," you told him. "Not sure if I can swing a trip to the lake house, though."

Despite your less than ideal upbringing, you and your brothers had all done pretty well for yourselves. No thanks to your parents, seeing as you all shared a dad who never liked to be with the same woman twice. But you and your brothers all stuck together through thick and thin, supporting and celebrating and sticking together despite the differing parentage between the four of you. And now you were all scattered, your brothers Andrew and Hayden were professional athletes and Evan was a bigshot lawyer. Once you moved out of your hometown, you really only saw your brothers for holidays. And the occasional surprise visit from Andrew, though that hadn't happened in a while.

"That's okay," Evan said. "Next time."

"Next time," you agreed. Then, "How's the family?"

"Good. Sammy's gotten so big. And Laura's already showing."

You grinned as you imagined Evan's family. He deserved a happy ending with a loving family after raising you and the idiots you called brothers. "Another team member for the family football game."

"Speaking of the family football game," Evan said, and you mentally cursed yourself. "Laura's been dying to know if she should set an extra spot at the table."

Immediately, your mind went to Harry, but you quickly whisked that thought away. "Nope. Unless Hayden's got a new girlfriend."

"Really? No one?"

You narrowed your eyes even though Evan couldn't see your expression. "Why are you fishing? Gossip is Andy's thing."

"What? I'm not fishing!" Evan spluttered, but you just scoffed and waited. Evan might've been a shark in the courtroom, but he'd always been terrible at lying to you. "Fine. Laura was reading one of her gossip magazines, and you know I don't pay attention to those, but you know, I might have seen someone who looks an awful lot like you pictured alongside a former boy band member."

Well, shit. You knew that was a reality of being Harry's acquaintance, but you'd always done your best to not pay any attention to it. So far it had done a good job, but now it was coming to bite you in the ass.

"It's nothing, Evan. He's an artist. I'm a songwriter. We work in the same building," you said.

"Fine! Fine," Evan said, and you could just picture him holding his hands up in surrender the way he'd done since you were a teenager. "I just thought I'd ask now and try to soften the blow. I'll just leave you to the wolves."

"Damn you, Evan," you muttered. Evan was the easy brother. It was Andrew and Hayden you had to look out for. They would interrogate you relentlessly, or worse, squeeze the life out of you until you caved. Sighing deeply through your nose, you said, "I will ask if Harry has plans for that weekend. And that is it."

"See? That wasn't so hard!"

You rolled your eyes. "I'll talk to you later."

"You love me!" Evan called just before hanging up.

The call ended just as you pulled up to your apartment. You sat back with a huff, marveling at the strings your brother managed to pull from thousands of miles away. But deep down, you knew Evan was just looking out for you. After everything that happened eighteen months ago, he'd been keeping a close eye. As close an eye as he could all the way from New York. But that was how things worked between you and your brothers. You all looked out for each other, and your older brothers acted as personal security guards to any and everyone who so much as looked at you the wrong way. It was both endearing and very annoying.

Very annoying. Now you had to invite Harry to Thanksgiving. Evan was so going to get it.

*.*

On Saturday, you found yourself standing in front of your mirror longer than you normally would've. Harry had used the term "get-together" as a means to ease your nerves, but now that the dreaded day had come, you realized you weren't sure what that meant in terms of dress code. Was this thing laid-back? What if casual still meant dressy to Harry and his friends? Harry usually walked around the studio in jeans and faded t-shirts, but he was still a celebrity. He could see this as an opportunity to dress up.

You looked at all the clothes spread out in your room. You'd changed an embarrassing amount of times now, but nothing seemed fitting for the occasion. I could always text him, you thought, biting your nail as you surveyed the tornado of clothes around you. Harry had given you your number earlier this week so he could text you his address. You hadn't wanted to, as it would open the flood gates for conversation outside the studio, but you eventually gave it up when he stared blankly at you after offering your email as an alternative.

Before you could think too long about it, you picked up your phone and sent a quick text. Before you even had a chance to set it down, Harry sent a reply.

Harry S: We're just chilling at my house. Dress as comfortably as you'd like :))

Well, that wasn't helpful at all, you thought, but didn't say to Harry. You went back to rummaging through your pile of clothes, creating a spot for Buddy when he ambled into your bedroom from the kitchen. In the end, you settled on something simple: jeans, platform shoes, and a colorful fleece jacket over a plain shirt. It felt silly to have wasted so much time on your wardrobe when all you were doing was going to see Harry. And his friends. And that was...intimidating.

The anxiety of meeting Harry's friends, of meeting anyone new, crept through you. You didn't want to go and face the inevitability of disappointing them. Your track record with friends was pretty abysmal. But you found yourself kissing Buddy's head and promising you wouldn't be gone long, and then you were getting in your car and plugging in the address Harry had given you.

The music playing in your car calmed you some. Etta James' voice was both familiar and comfortable, welcome feelings as you pulled up to Harry's house. House was a bit of an understatement, though. Maybe a villa, or an estate. The LA version of those sprawling castles that were all over Europe. Your shoulders were tense as you cruised up the long driveway, though your anxiety eased a bit when you saw that had seen about as much life and mileage parked up front as yours did.

Music was playing inside the house, you could hear the trill of soft guitar and the low hum of a male voice from outside, and you worried if anyone would be able to hear you as you knocked on the door. Thankfully, you only stood on Harry's doorstep for a minute or two, then Harry's familiar grin greeted you.

"You made it!" Harry said, pulling you over the threshold and in for a quick side hug. He looked down at you for a moment, his cheeks flushed and green eyes bright, perhaps from drinking. He shook his head a little before pulling you further into the house. "Come in, come in, everyone is just through here."

Harry led you further into his home, giving you a chance to look around. Despite the grandeur of the outside, Harry's house was actually quite cozy and inviting. Everything was in warm tones, and potted plants and bookshelves piled high with a mix of books and records with titles you couldn't read from this distance. His house looked actually lived in, which couldn't be said for some of the other celebrity homes you'd been in. It didn't happen often as you preferred to work alone, but you occasionally dabbled in writing sessions with other artists. Their homes looked much more modern, and much more cold, than Harry's did.

"My home in London is much smaller," Harry said, noticing your craned neck. Then he shrugged, looking a little sheepish. "But I liked the look of this place. It reminded me of a house I go to in Italy most summers."

"It's beautiful," you said. "I've always wanted to go to Italy."

"You've never been?"

You shook your head, admiring the arch leading into an open kitchen. "I was supposed to go for—"

For my birthday, you couldn't bring yourself to say. Gavin had planned a summer trip to Italy for your birthday, but that never happened. You surprised yourself by revealing that much, and by the way Harry's eyes lit up, you'd taken him by surprise too.

But he didn't press you to finish your thought. He just smiled and led you further into the kitchen. "Come on. You need a drink."

Harry talked while he fixed up your drink. He'd tried to persuade you to take a shot of tequila with him, his eyebrows wiggling up and down, a look on his face that you'd seen one too many times on your brothers when they were trying to stir up trouble. You declined with a laugh, opting for a glass of wine instead. Maybe a boring choice, Harry definitely thought so as he teased by saying, "Booooring!" but you needed to be sharp, and tequila tended to have the opposite effect, so red wine it was.

"Everyone's through here. I hope you like games because Kid brought a new one over and everyone has become quite invested."

Games? Is that what Harry Styles did on his evenings off? Play board games with his friends? Before you could ask, Harry led you into his living room, where everyone was in fact sitting around a rather spacious coffee table, a board game and playing cards spread out around it. It was a small group of about five or six. For some reason you expected more people, even though Harry said otherwise. They were all talking amongst themselves, talking strategy, you presumed, as you recognized the game as one of those territory-winning ones.

All the talking stopped, however, when Harry introduced you to the group.

You felt their eyes on you, judging, picking you apart where you stood. You began to curl in on yourself, wilting at the attention. Involuntarily, you took a step back, but Harry's hand was on your lower back, warm and comforting against you. You should've pulled away, but you didn't, thankful for at least some kind of familiarity among all the new.

It had been so long since you'd had to meet new people in a non-professional setting. You'd met with producers and artists and other industry people all the time, but there was always a wall of professionalism between you and them. You knew how to navigate that space with ease, but here, where people were sitting on pillows and holding playing cards, where you stood as the outlier among what was clearly a tight-knit group, you felt very much like a fish out of water. A fish in space.

"H—Hello," you managed to say, giving everyone a small wave.

One person got up. A young woman with short brown hair, winged eyeliner marking the corners of her eyes. Her smile was surprisingly warm, but what had your eyes widening even more was when she pulled you in for a hug, squeezing tight.

"I'm Sylvia," she said. "It's so nice to finally meet you."

"Finally?"

You probably shouldn't have said that, but you weren't expecting such a warm welcome.

"Harry talks about you constantly. I swear sometimes he purposely keeps you from us."

"That is not—That is not true," Harry said, speaking to you for a moment. He sounded serious, but his eyes were filled with amusement as if he was used to Sylvia's teasing.

Everyone else introduced themselves, and you tried to keep a smile on your face as you committed their names to memory. They were all part of Harry's "team" except for Sylvia—writers, producers, musicians. "And you?" you asked her as she pulled you down to sit next to her. Sylvia had insisted you be on her team while you learned how to play. She seemed nice, eager to get to know you, but you didn't trust it. Not yet.

"I'm a full-time mom most days, and a part-time life coach to this one," Sylvia joked. She seemed too young to be a mother, but you supposed they came in all shapes and sizes. "But I'm Harry's nutritionist. And friend when he's not being a pain in the ass."

There was a wry grin on the young woman's face that told you she was fond of Harry, and fond of teasing him, if said grin grew when Harry said, "Hey," was anything to go by. It eased your mind a bit, her kindness and obvious fondness for Harry. She spoke animatedly as she caught you up on the rules of the game and gossip from her yoga class. "They're all in love with that one, of course. Can't take him anywhere," she said with a nod in Harry's direction.

When you agreed to join Harry tonight, you figured you would spend your time with him. But Sylvia kept you occupied most of the evening, and he and his friends were rather invested in the game. You were content to watch, enjoying the playful bickering and shouts of surprise and celebration. It was interesting to see how they all interacted with each other. Harry and his friends sat and drank around his coffee table while you nursed your drink, observing with the sweet feeling of nostalgia swimming through your veins.

"Y/n?"

You jumped in your spot on the floor, your wine sloshing around in your glass a little. Thankfully, nothing poured out. You would've been mortified if you'd spilled red wine all over Harry's most likely exorbitantly expensive carpet.

Eyes flicking to a man with short blond hair, you said, "Sorry?"

Kid, you were pretty sure his name was, asked his question again. "Did you first start writing here in LA?"

"Uh...no. Nashville, actually," you said. "I lived in Nashville for a while before moving out here. But I...grew up in a small town just outside."

"You never told me that," Harry said, sounding both intrigued and a little hurt that you'd never shared that with him before.

Emboldened by your near-empty glass, you said, "You never asked."

That earned a few chuckles and a raised brow from Harry as if he'd just accepted a challenge you hadn't meant to create. But you read that look in his eyes with ease. Any look was quite easy to read from Harry. He was expressive, an open book. He was going to take this as an opportunity to ask you all the questions he'd been witholding.

Throwing back the rest of your wine, you avoided his eye and ignored the excited flip in your belly.

*.*

If it wasn't for your dog, you were pretty sure you wouldn't be able to keep up with Harry Styles and his impossibly long gait.

He'd kept to his word, insisting that he join you on one of your walks with Buddy Holly. It wasn't until a few days after you went to his house for the first time, but one morning before you usually headed into the studio, he texted and asked if he could join you for your morning walk with your dog. It took some convincing, which really only meant a series of uninterrupted texts until you finally relented.

Buddy took to Harry immediately, of course, though that wasn't a surprise, seeing as your dog was friendly with everyone. But it meant a lot to you that he seemed to like Harry so much. Buddy was a rescue, and you couldn't imagine the awful things he'd been through before you'd given him a proper home.

Now he walked on the sidewalk excitedly, pulling you on his leash as his stubby tail waved around wildly. Harry walked beside you, his curly hair pulled back with a little black claw clip, some of it sticking up in a cute tuft. As he walked beside you, you took the opportunity to study him. There was a little scruff on his cheeks and jaw, creeping down the nape of his neck. His jaw was strong and angular, his cheekbones sharp. Harry really was beautiful. You understood why so many people went so crazy for him.

"See anything you like?"

Warmth flushed your cheeks as you quickly looked ahead, even if the damage was already done. Harry rarely, if ever, caught you staring at him, mostly because it didn't happen often. But in the last few weeks, you'd found yourself admiring him more and more. The movements he made with his hand as he told a story, the mischievous glint in his eye when he made you laugh, the way his arms moved beneath his shirt, how his lips curled around a smile. You cataloged each mannerism, each vocal inflection, and after just a few weeks following that night at his house with his friends, you felt like you knew him quite well.

Shrugging, you feigned nonchalance as your eyes darted back to Buddy, who had stopped to sniff a tree.

You could feel Harry's gaze on you, but you tried not to squirm. His gaze pricked your skin, making you feel things you absolutely shouldn't have been feeling. It was uncomfortable and exhilarating, and you didn't like how much you were warming up to him.

Used to your wordless answers, Harry moved on. "You're making me rethink my decision to get a cat."

"You decided, then?"

"I think I'm more of cat person," Harry said. "Well that, and I think I've found the one, but I'm worried about all the traveling."

"It can stay with me," you said, eyes widening when you did. But it was true, you realized. You were close enough to Harry to promise that kind of thing.

"Well, in that case," Harry said, and you finally looked over to him.

His grin was wide as he looked down at you, and though you couldn't see his eyes behind his sunglasses, you knew they were more than likely squinted with mirth. You liked that smile, you realized. It was uninhibited, full of warmth and good intentions. You wanted to trust it, to give in to the friendship Harry was offering.

But you couldn't. Harry didn't deserve the abysmal companionship you offered in return, and you felt bad for leading him along when you knew you'd eventually fuck things up. You always did.

Your phone buzzing thankfully pulled you away from your thoughts. Looking at it, you saw a text from your brother, Hayden. You think Laura will be cool with a few football players in her house for Thanksgiving? it said, and you shook your head as you typed a quick reply, a small grin spreading across your face.

Hayden was only going to be in town the day of Thanksgiving, as he had a game the day after. You didn't think he would make it at all, seeing how full his schedule usually was, but he managed to squeeze it in. Apparently his game wasn't too far from Evan's house. As long as he, and his teammates now, didn't drink too much, they would be just fine.

You: I don't think so. Laura might put y'all to work around the house though.

Hayden: Seems fair.

Hayden: Are YOU bringing anyone home?

Hayden: Because I can sit you next to one of my teammates.

Hayden: I take that back. Forget I said that. No teammate of mine is going near my sister.

Rolling your eyes, you stuffed your phone in your back pocket. Harry was looking at you with a curious gaze, and you scrambled to explain yourself. "My brother," you said. "Apparently he's inviting some of his football buddies to Thanksgiving this year."

"Does he play at university?" Harry asked. You could almost hear the eagerness in his voice at the opportunity to learn more about you, and while sharing in general made you squirm, your brothers were fairly easy to talk about.

"He did. He's in the NFL now."

"Oh nice You must be—Wait what's his name?"

"Hayden?"

Harry stopped walking for a moment. When you tried to stop too, Buddy protested, tugging the leash, and the wrist you had wrapped around it pulled uncomfortably. Murmuring a quick apology, Harry kept walking, keeping pace with your energetic puppy.

"Your brother is Hayden L/n?"

You nodded. "I'm guessing you've heard of him then?"

A bark of laughter slipped from Harry's lips. You'd never seen him so caught off guard before. It was strange, but also a relief to know that someone as steady as Harry wasn't so unflappable all the time.

Rubbing a hand over his mouth, he said, "I think everyone has heard of him. Any other famous brothers I should know about?"

"I don't know how you quantify fame, but my other brother is in the NHL. He plays for a team on the east coast."

Andrew was the youngest of your family. Despite that, he still considered himself your older brother, which had always been annoying growing up, especially when you were taller than him for a few years. He was rather sweet for someone so aggressive on the ice. He spent a lot of time with his mom, but was still close to you, Evan, and Hayden. It was hard not to be when you all shared the same deadbeat dad.

Outside of Evan, you probably talked to Andrew the most. You were the closest in age and grew up going to school together, and while his main focus was hockey, whenever he was in town, he'd go with you to concerts to see whatever indie band you were into or treat you to tickets to a show at the arena he played for.

"You have a third, right?" Harry asked, and you weren't even surprised that he remembered even though you were sure you'd only mentioned it once or twice.

"Evan. He's a lawyer in New York, but he lives in Connecticut with his wife and daughter," you said.

Now would be the perfect opportunity to invite Harry to Thanksgiving. You were looping back around on the trail, heading back to the park entrance where you'd met Harry this morning. Evan would pester you about it until you did, or worse, get Hayden and Andrew involved. You just had to throw it out there, be as casual as possible. Easy. You were all about being casual.

"So, um, he—Evan—he, um, said if I wanted I could invite a friend to Thanksgiving. If I wanted to."

"Oh yeah?" You weren't looking at him, but you could hear the grin in his voice.

Swallowing thickly as you willed your cheeks not to flush, you continued to look at Buddy as you spoke. "You probably already have plans, but I just thought I would ask if you wanted to come. Laura, Evan's wife, is a great cook, and it's usually pretty low-key until football gets turned on. But no offensive aunts or uncles or anything like that. Just us."

That was definitely too many words, but the amused look in Harry's eyes didn't feel antagonizing. "I would love to, but um, I already promised my mum I would go home that week."

"Oh." You didn't mean to sound disappointed. It was a good thing that Harry was going home to see his mother. And him meeting your brothers for the first time all at once probably would've scared him out of talking to you in the studio, so really it was for the best. It was for the best. "That's okay. You must be excited to go home. How long has it been?"

"London? Not too long, but I'm headed back to Manchester, and my mum has not been shy in letting me know that it's been too long since..."

You listened to Harry the rest of the walk back, trying to fight off the disappointment gnawing inside you that he'd said no. You didn't want that feeling in you. You wanted to be indifferent. It's for the best. You repeated it over and over until you convinced yourself it was true.

*.*

"You had a speech, you're speechless. Love slipped beyond your reaches. And I couldn't give a reason, Champagne problems."

You scribbled in your notebook, crossing out words from the original recording and replacing them with better ones. You hadn't planned to go back to this song. After recording it on your phone, you figured it wouldn't see the light of day again. But something kept bringing you back to it. So you worked on it between other projects, playing around with the lyrics and melody in small doses so that the past wouldn't overwhelm you.

Guilt seeped into your bones as you recalled what happened eighteen, almost nineteen, months ago. Sometimes you wished you could forget everything you'd done, but other times you decided being forced to remember was part of your penance for causing so much pain. Gavin was a good man. He was so kind and so smart, he didn't have a cruel bone in his body. And you'd taken his goodness, you'd welcomed all his kindness, and crushed it in your hands.

Wiping away a tear, you shut your notebook definitively. Your session in the studio was far from over, but you were done for the day.

On your way out, you kept your head down, not wanting anyone to see your watery eyes. You could feel the tears building, and you hoped you could at least make it to your car before you turned into a mess. It was so hard sometimes. Some days you felt great. You would write good songs, take Buddy for a walk and teach him a new trick, you would get coffee with Harry and laugh, and everything would be fine. But then there were days where the mere thought of the past sent you careening off course, leaving you with nothing but the intrusive thoughts you thought you'd learned how to keep at bay.

Today happened to be one of those days, and you hoped you could escape and wallow in self-pity unnoticed. But before you could even make it to the elevator, you bumped into something solid and warm. Arms wrapped around you to hold you steady before you could spring back, and against your better judgment, you looked up, an apology poised on your lips.

"Y/n, are you okay? What's wrong?"

You should've known that you would be unlucky enough to run into Harry on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Blinking rapidly, you shook your head and stepped out of his grasp, though that didn't make you feel any better. "I'm fine."

"You can talk to me," Harry insisted. His brows furrowed with concern, but he didn't come any closer. There was a bag slung over his shoulder and a hat covering up his hair, with only a few stray curls sticking out beneath it. He looked like he was just going into the studio for a session.

"I'm fine, I promise," you lied, not wanting to be the reason he was late for studio time. "I'm just leaving for the day."

You tried to step around Harry, but his hands fell down on your shoulders. His gaze burned, but you couldn't make yourself look him in the eye. You knew the moment you saw the sympathy swimming in them you'd burst into tears.

"Please let me go," you said, but it came out as more of a squeak, your voice breaking on the last word.

To your surprise, Harry did, and even though that was what you'd asked for, what you wanted, you somehow felt worse. Shuffling around him, you mumbled a quick goodbye and bypassed the elevator, not wanting to wait awkwardly for it to come up while he was still in the hall. It wasn't until you finally got in your car that you let everything out, all the guilt and loneliness and self-loathing that you kept bottled up regularly.

So often you were able to pretend the past didn't exist. But then there were days where you were almost slapped in the face by the consequences of your actions. Negative thoughts followed you all the way home and into your bed. Not even hiding under the covers kept you from feeling everything all at once. Your mind spun as you thought of Gavin, of his elated grin crumpling into a look of betrayal as you told him you were ending it.

You remembered every detail from that night. The brand of Champagne Gavin bought for the would-be occasion, the woodsy cologne he wore, the looks on his friends' and family's faces as you hurried down the stairs to leave the party, unable to bear their shame and disapproval, or the heart you'd broken on the landing in his family's mansion.

You didn't know he was going to propose until mere moments before it happened. You had only been seeing Gavin for a few months, and things were good. He made you happy, and you liked having someone to go through life with. He liked to shower you with expensive gifts, for no other reason than to show you he cared and because he could. You didn't have the same kind of wealth he or his family did, not even with the substantial amount of money you made as a successful songwriter. But you'd write him poems and leave them places you knew he'd find them and looped your arm through his at company parties. Things were good.

Every year, Gavin's family hosted a Christmas party, and last year was the first time you'd been invited. You hadn't wanted to go, mostly because in the two weeks leading up to the party, you realized you weren't in the same place Gavin was emotionally, and you weren't sure you ever would be. But Gavin insisted, promising it would be fun and he wouldn't abandon you to his family, who had been nothing but cold since the moment he'd introduced them to you. So you went, sipping on Champagne in a glass made of crystal and wondering if the guilty pit at the bottom of your stomach would ever stop growing.

It was a couple hours into the party when you'd stumbled on a conversation between Gavin's mother and sister, one that made your blood run cold with dread.

"Did Gav really ask you for your ring?" his sister asked.

His mother nodded gravely. "He wants to do it tonight."

"What? That's ridiculous! They've barely been together a year!"

"I'm sure she would make a lovely bride, she's beautiful, I'll give her that," his mother conceded, but you could hear the disdain in her voice loud and clear. "It's just a shame that she's—"

"Fucked in the head?"

"Larissa! Language!"

"What? She is! She's a total basket case, and everyone can see it but him. She'll never make him happy. How could she? Putting a ring on it doesn't change a thing. Gavin would have a psych patient, not a wife. He deserves better."

The rest of the night was a blur, but you knew you couldn't wait. You didn't want to break up with Gavin on the night of his family's Christmas party, but if he was going to propose, you couldn't let him. The hurt would be so much worse if you had to slide the ring off your finger a week or two after the proposal.

Gavin called you for weeks afterward, begging you to help him understand. His family did too, and his friends, people you considered friends as well, but it was clear once there was a line drawn in the sand where everyone stood, and they didn't have any trouble letting you know how horrible you were for doing what you did. Sometimes when you let yourself get angry, you wondered why Gavin's mother and sister, or any of them really, were so aggressive about your break up. They'd never wanted you to be with him in the first place, and even though they'd gotten their wish, they still called you a heartless monster.

But above all that, Gavin's messages made the deepest cut. He sounded so devastated in each voicemail. And at first, all he wanted was to talk, to somehow work it all out as if it was one big misunderstanding. I know my family can be a lot, but I love you so much, he'd said in a text. We can go to Italy like we'd planned. Elope. Buy a little cottage and just start a new life somewhere else. Please, Y/n. Talk to me. I love you.

Messages like those were the toughest pills to swallow. You knew Gavin loved you, you never doubted that for a moment. The problem was you didn't feel the same. You didn't know why. You cared for Gavin a lot, and in the beginning, you had all those giddy, initial relationship feelings, but they never developed beyond that. And when you noticed Gavin's feelings growing more and more each day while yours didn't, you started to panic.

But it was when those messages turned angry, hateful even, that hurt the most. It was what you deserved after what you'd done, but to know that you'd turned one of the gentlest souls you knew into a spiteful one killed you almost as much as stopping him from getting down on one knee had.

In the midst of all your crying and hyperventilating, your phone buzzed. Wiping your eyes and nose, you lifted your phone to your face, squinting at the bright light.

Harry S: I know you probably want space, but I'm here for you xx

You shouldn't be, was your first thought, but all you texted back was, Just a bad day that's all.

Harry's response was almost immediate, as if he was waiting around for your reply.

Harry S: Well, if you ever need a friend, you know where to find me :))

You sighed, feeling another wave of tears overwhelm you. The pressure of friendship weighed heavily on your chest. All you could offer was disappointment, and you couldn't stomach the thought of letting someone like Harry down. He was too good a person to be your friend. All you could offer him was disappointment and pain. You were toxic, and better off left alone.

You: We're not friends. I don't want to be your friend so just leave me alone.

*.*

Weeks went by and you were positively miserable. Thanksgiving came and went, and even your brothers could sense not to pry about your sour mood. Evan tried to get you alone, but you didn't want to talk. You didn't want to explain how you'd fucked things up so royally. Again. You didn't want his sympathy, or Hayden's promise to fight anyone who hurt you, or Andrew's cheesy jokes to lift your spirits. What you wanted had been all the way in England and had been giving you the cold shoulder. Just like you'd asked.

Harry stopped saying hi to you at the studio, which hurt more than you thought it would. In the grand scheme of things, you hadn't known him very long, but seeing him in the hallway and watching him purposely avoid you felt awful. You only had yourself to blame, but you thought it was better to let him down early on than further down the line. You couldn't have another Gavin situation on your hands.

But this felt entirely different. Even though you'd only spoken to Harry for a month, his absence from your life was more poignant than you expected it to be. When you ended things with Gavin, you felt guilty for hurting him, but ultimately, there was a sense of relief that you weren't leading him on, that crushing weight of his family's disapproval on your chest lifted. Breaking up with Gavin was hard, but it was the right thing to do for you, there was no doubt in your mind about that.

But this thing with Harry...you'd pushed him away when you were feeling vulnerable. A preemptive measure for the both of you, but there was no relief, no justifiable sense of rightness in your gut in the days following.

Part of you wanted to reach out to him and apologize, but you worried he hated you now and didn't know how to bridge the gap you created between the two of you.

Opportunity struck when you overheard a conversation between Harry and...Mitch. you were pretty sure that was Mitch from that night at Harry's house. It was about a week after you came back from your brother's house, and all three of them were constantly calling or texting despite their busy schedules. You wouldn't have put it past any of them to have set up times to routinely check in on you. It warmed your heart some, but nothing would feel right until you fixed things with Harry. Pushing him away had been a mistake, you saw that now. You'd done it in a moment when you were at your lowest, and that wasn't fair to either of you.

"I'm sorry, mate," Harry said to Mitch. "I didn't even think to ask if you were allergic before adopting a cat. I feel like an idiot now."

So he went ahead with his plan to get a pet, then. The thought made you smile, but you held it in. You were pressed into the corner of the elevator up to the studio. Harry was definitely aware of your presence, but he hadn't acknowledged you. Mitch gave you an awkward wave, but that was somehow worse.

"No worries, man," Mitch said now, stepping out of the elevator with Harry. He was in a white t-shirt and a light brown cardigan today, his curly brown hair looking beautifully windswept. You refused to think about the current state of your hair, which was hiding beneath a blue baseball cap. "I'll just have to—"

You never found out what Mitch would have to do because they rounded a corner of the hallway, leaving you alone outside the elevator. Quickly scurrying into your usual studio, you sat down at the grand piano, letting the smooth keys cool your sweaty palms. You felt breathless, but it wasn't the usual anxiety-ridden breathlessness you were used to. This felt different, your heart speeding up at the thought of Harry's broad shoulders beneath his sweater.

"Pull yourself together, Y/n," you told yourself.

The damage was done—once again, at your hands, but you couldn't help that right this second. Right now you had work to do.

The next day, you did something you didn't normally do—venture outside of your studio. Since working in the building, you'd never thought to explore the other rooms, to introduce yourself or make friends the way Harry had with you. As you walked down the long hallway of closed and half-open doors, you wondered who was behind them, what kind of projects were being worked on right now.

Most importantly, you wanted to know which door Harry sat behind.

After a day of writing, of trying to lean into more positive feelings, the small hope you had for a brighter future. You left the studio feeling lighter after another introspective session. There'll be happiness after you, but there was happiness because of you, both of these things can be true, you'd written, forming your thoughts around a melody that was both somber and hopeful. That moment when you'd pushed Harry away was the lowest you'd felt in a while, but you didn't want to feel that way anymore. All Harry had been asking for was friendship. You could do friendship, in fact, you craved it.

So now you were trying to make things right with Harry, or at least apologize for your rude text. He'd only ever been incredibly kind to you, and you'd treated him like garbage.

You came across a door that was partially open, laughter filtering out and reaching you in the hallway. Harry's voice was mixed among them, and hearing him laugh filled you with butterflies. Going to his studio suddenly felt like a mistake. You didn't want to bring down his mood, especially if it would affect his writing for the day.

But you finally worked up the courage to knock on the open door. You'd already made it this far. The knock immediately sobered up everyone inside the studio, and you waited outside with your gift bag clutched in your hands. One of Harry's friends appeared, eyes widening when he saw you there.

"Y/n," he said. "It's good to see you."

You couldn't tell if he was pleased to see you or not, and nerves slowly began to creep in.

"I—I won't take up too much of your time, I know y'all are probably busy," you said. "I just, um, could you give this to Harry, please?"

You shoved the bag in the man's direction, forcing him to take it. "You can come in. He's just inside—"

"No, it's okay. I should probably get back to it. So, uh, see you."

You turned and fled, heat flooding your cheeks. Honestly, you were surprised you made it that far. You figured your courage would fizzle out before knocking on the studio door.

Settling back in your studio, you pulled out your journal and phone out of your bag, and opened up to a fresh page to work on a new song. On the way into work this morning, your agent pitched you an opportunity to write for an up-and-coming artist. "Something light, Y/n," she'd said, knowing you'd been writing mostly sad, break-up songs recently. "If it doesn't work out, then it doesn't work out, but at least try. You've always liked to challenge yourself."

So you were putting away the Champagne problems for now and channeling your happiest thoughts. You even brought your computer to stream romantic comedies while you worked for some additional inspiration.

You were halfway through When Harry met Sally when that inspiration finally struck. Lighter, happier words finally filled your journal, a rare, but not completely uncommon occurrence. You'd written love songs in the past, both before and while you were with Gavin. But surprisingly, Gavin wasn't who came to mind, nor was it the characters in the movie on your computer.

You thought of Harry's smile, his flushed cheeks after he'd had a couple drinks, his green eyes that seemed to sparkle when he laughed. Did you have a crush on him? You weren't entirely sure, maybe you just admired his goodness. And, okay fine, his unfair amount of good looks too. But you tried not to focus too long on who exactly inspired you, just on making sure the words kept flowing onto the page.

Perhaps you should've expected Harry to stop by, but you hadn't. His voice startled you, your eyes having been glued to the screen of your computer as the final scene of Roman Holiday played out in front of you. It had always been one of your favorites, and you decided that a brain break was needed as the final third of the film rolled around.

"What's this?"

No matter how many times you'd seen it, the ending never failed to bring tears to your eyes. Seeing the glisten of tears in Gregory Peck's eyes as he stared longingly at Audrey Hepburn's, knowing they loved each other but could never be together was heartbreaking. It had been the most tragic thing you'd ever experienced when you first watched it as a girl, and it hadn't even happened to you.

It was those tears now that you wiped away, a warmth creeping up your cheeks because this was the second time Harry had caught you crying. How embarrassing.

Looking up, you saw the gift bag in one hand, the other in his pocket as he stared at you blankly. No warmth or his usual smile, but he wasn't glaring at you, either. He just looked indifferent, and that didn't sit well with you at all.

"I...I overheard you and Mitch talking about your cat and his allergies, and I'd heard of this stuff that you can use on your pets to help people who are allergic to animals."

You'd gone out and bought it after leaving the studio the day you'd overheard the conversation between Mitch and Harry. It was your version of an olive branch, a way to express your guilt after taking Harry's friendship and throwing it in his face. You were his friend, and you wanted him to know it.

It probably seemed silly to hide behind a gift instead of saying something, considering your profession. But confrontation was almost as terrifying as love was, it was part of the reason why you only wrote songs and didn't perform them.

Harry scoffed, and it looked like he couldn't decide between laughing or rolling his eyes. "No, I know what this is, I'm asking why you gave it to me. Or not me, to my friend and then scurried back over here."

"I'm sorry about that, about everything," you said, shutting your laptop and shifting in your chair. "I was...I haven't been in the best place for some time now. It's not an excuse for how I treated you that day. You caught me in a bad moment and I lashed out."

"Thank you for apologizing," he said, his voice cool and even. You desperately wanted to know what he was thinking. What he saw when he looked at you. "Do you want to grab coffee? Maybe we can talk?"

The thought of being open and honest in the way that he was suggesting was daunting, but Harry deserved your honesty. "Sure. Let me just pack up my things."

Harry waited for you by the door as you packed your bag, jotting a couple notes down in your journal before putting it away. Your hands shook a little as you approached him, excitement swelling in your belly despite the anxiety you felt at the prospect of having to talk about things you preferred to leave in the recesses of your mind. But it felt good to see Harry again, to walk beside him and head to your favorite coffee house.

Neither of you said anything on the short walk over, and even after you placed your orders, you remained quiet. When your name was called out alongside Harry's to grab your drinks, you knew it was time to find a table, but you stayed rooted to your spot in front of the counter.

It was Larissa. Gavin's sister. She was standing next to the other end of the counter where baristas called out and dropped off orders. There was a moment when she didn't see you, and you thought you could make a break for it, even if that meant leaving Harry high and dry. But even if you wanted to, you were frozen in place, and when Larissa's gaze finally landed on you, you felt her glare even from a short distance.

"Y/n?" Harry asked, both drinks in his hands. "What's—"

"Y/n! How good to see you!"

Larissa's kind smile was anything but. You'd never trusted Gavin's sister. From the moment you met her, you knew to be wary of her, and after everything that happened, you were sure nothing good was going to come out of this interaction.

"H—Hi, Larissa. How are you?" you said, trying your best not to look at Harry, who had a quizzical look on his face.

"Oh, I'm just fabulous. I've just spent the last year healing my brother's broken heart, which you broke like it was nothing," Larissa said. "He's great, by the way. Finally came to his senses and realized what a God-awful mess you were. He realized all of us were better off without you."

Then, before you could even make sense of what was happening, a rush of cold washed over you. At first, you thought it was merely a visceral reaction to the confrontation, but Harry's, "What the fuck?" made you think twice.

Looking down, you realized Larissa had poured her drink on your sweater. Shock left you blinking at Gavin's sister, tears welling in your eyes. With shaking hands, you held the ruined sweater in your hands, then back to Larissa. "Wh—Why—"

"That's for my brother, slut."

"That's enough," Harry said, voice harder and colder than you'd ever heard him before. Even when he was upset with you at the studio, he never sounded this angry. Gently gripping your elbow, he turned you around. You hardly noticed the flashing of cameras aimed in your direction. All you could really process was Larissa's smirk and the iced coffee dripping off you onto the coffee house's floor.

When you were finally outside and a block down the road, Harry pulled you down an alley where you could have a moment of privacy. He pulled his sweater over his head and offered it to you in a bundle. You quietly murmured your thanks and took it from him, slipping it over your head. The plain black sweater was warm and smelled like him—like laundry detergent and expensive cologne. It would've been the kind of thing to flood your senses if shame hadn't currently encompassed every fiber of your being.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," you said when you felt like you could speak without your voice trembling.

"You don't have to apologize for what happened, Y/n," Harry said. He gently rested his hand on your shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I think so."

You couldn't look him in the eye, not while your iced coffee-ridden sweater was now ruining his, not while he kept looking at you with such pity. You could feel it down to your toes, and it made you want to curl up in a ball and never get out of bed. But Harry deserved an explanation. At the very least, he deserved to know who he associated himself with.

"I should explain—"

"You don't have to," Harry insisted.

"I want to," you said, believing the words as you said them. You weren't sure what you would've done if Harry hadn't been with you a few minutes ago. His brows were still furrowed with concern, his thumb rubbing circles into your shoulder. His sweater layered over yours created a pretty thick barrier, but you could feel his touch as if he was caressing your skin. "We can, um, we can go back to my place."

Thankfully, Harry didn't protest, just nodded quietly. The walk back to the studio was completely silent, leaving you alone with your thoughts until it was time to part ways. He got in his car and followed you home, silently following you up the steps to your apartment, a comfortable little one-bedroom twenty minutes from the studio.

Buddy was at the door when you unlocked it, tail wagging and tongue lolling to the side of his mouth happily. He greeted you first, then Harry, who he tried with all his might to knock over by getting up on his hind legs and resting on your guest. "Buddy! Down!" you hissed, frantically holding onto your dog's collar. Harry laughed and waived you off, surprising you by lifting Buddy up into his arms. Both boys were perfectly content, and the image of your friend holding your dog in your apartment was enough to lift your spirits the tiniest bit. A small smile crept onto your face, and Harry's grin widened when he saw it.

"Nice place," Harry commented, spinning around in a slow circle as he looked around.

"Thanks." Your apartment was small, but it was in a nice neighborhood and close to the beach. You made just enough in royalties to be comfortable in a little one bedroom. "Definitely different from my place in Nashville."

Harry nodded mildly before setting Buddy back down on the floor, admiring the colorful furniture that took up the space in your living room. Shivering a little, you looked down at yourself, reminded of your coffee-soaked clothes.

"There are treats in the pantry," you said, setting your things down on the kitchen counter and nodding to the pantry in question. "I'm just going to get changed so I can wash your sweater."

Harry nodded, but he seemed content to play with Buddy and look around your apartment, and your dog seemed perfectly happy to never walk on four legs ever again.

You tried to make quick work of changing, not wanting to keep Harry waiting too long. But you gave yourself a minute or two to calm down and process everything that had happened in the last hour. Even though it was horribly embarrassing, you were glad Harry had been there. He'd been a calming presence throughout, and you could only hope that would continue as you explained why you'd pushed him away.

*.*

"I...I didn't want to hurt you," you said, looking down at where your hands were knotted in your lap. "I just...I don't have a very good track record with relationships. Of any kind. I didn't want you to be one of the people I ruined."

Harry had been surprisingly quiet while you explained everything. And by everything, you meant everything. From Gavin to the Christmas party and what you'd heard to the would-be proposal. You told him about that song you'd written a couple weeks ago and how it brought all that emotion to the forefront of your memory and that it led you to push Harry away. He hadn't said much, asking you a few questions here and there; but for the most part, he let you speak uninterrupted, and you were surprised at how you continued to fill the silence, not once feeling uncomfortable. Perhaps a little ashamed after explaining how badly you'd hurt Gavin, but you never felt discomfort telling Harry any of it.

"Y/n, I—" Harry began to say before pausing. Looking up at him, you saw his brows furrowed, a look of consternation on his face. You waited for the blow, the one that eventually led him to leave you friendless once and for all. "I don't think you're a bad person for breaking up with him. I can't imagine that kind of hurt, sure, but if you didn't love him, you did the right thing. Do you—Do you seriously believe you're fucked in the head? Or that you ruin people?"

He was referencing the song you'd written, and you flushed bright red at the idea of him hearing more of the song than you would've liked. Shrugging, you gave him the truth. It didn't seem fit to lie when you'd bared your soul to him. "I don't know."

You could tell that answer didn't sit right with Harry. His frown deepened, and you desperately wanted to see him smile again. "Y/n, everyone makes mistakes in relationships, and even then I don't think you did anything wrong in that moment. Was it unfortunate timing? Maybe, but I don't think you should punish yourself for it anymore. In fact, I think what you did was brave."

"What?"

Smiling, Harry took your hand in his. It was warm, and his long fingers curled around your hand with ease. On any other day, you would've pulled back, but after sharing so much with him, this felt good. It felt right.

"I said what you did was brave," he said again. "You didn't love him, but you could've accepted the proposal and stayed with him. And then what? Leave him at the altar? Stay in a loveless marriage? It was hard, but you did the right thing for you and Gavin. I'm sure even he would come to understand that one day. Have you tried talking to him?"

You shook your head. "He hates me now."

"I don't think anyone could really hate you, Y/n," Harry said quietly, a blush crawling up his cheeks as if he hadn't meant to say that out loud. "I know you might disagree, but I think you might feel a lot better about all of this if you talked to him."

"His family—"

"Fuck his family. Gavin is a grown man who can think for himself," Harry said. "If he can't separate their wrong opinions from his own thoughts, then he's an idiot who never deserved you anyway."

You laughed a little at the first half of what he said. It felt nice to know that someone was on your side. Squeezing Harry's hand, you said, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For listening, for being a good friend when I maybe didn't deserve it. Evan's the only person I talked to about this, and even then I didn't explain everything," you said. Evan had been on your side, but it didn't really count to you. He was your brother. He had to be on your side. "I just don't have the best track record when it comes to hurting people, you know?"

Your eyes had fallen to your hand, which was still curled around his, but to your surprise, Harry's other one lifted your chin to meet his gaze. With wide eyes, you looked at him, heart beating a little wilder in your chest when you saw the look on his face. His expression was wide open, earnest and endearing, and filled with...something you weren't ready to see yet. But it filled you with warmth, and for the first time in a long time, you really believed that you didn't have to be alone.

"I don't think you'll hurt me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

His hand pushed a strand of your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. The movement made your breath hitch, lips parting as you tried to decide what Harry was going to do next, what you wanted him to do next. He seemed like he was waiting for something too, and his gaze was finally too much, like he could see your soul and was currently shuffling through every little thing you longed for and were afraid of. It was heavy with emotion, and you weren't ready for it.

"You should probably get going soon," you said, rising, with great difficulty, to your feet and putting some distance between yourself and Harry. A frown on Harry's face appeared, and you quickly explained yourself. "Your cat. You probably should head home and feed her."

Before you and Harry sat down to talk about...everything, he briefly mentioned his new kitten, Sweet Pea. "It was the name she already had when I adopted her, and it didn't feel right to change it, though sometimes she's not so sweet." She was a fluffy Ragdoll cat that was apparently quite the diva, and Harry proudly showed off picture after picture, claiming he was already in love with his new furry companion.

Now though, Harry's eyes widened as if he hadn't even thought about his new kitten since being here. "Right. Good call. I'll see you tomorrow?"

You nodded as you watched him gather his things. "I'll return the sweater tomorrow."

"Don't worry about it," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

You walked Harry to the door to see him out. He crossed the threshold but paused before heading down to his car. You couldn't read the look that crossed his face, but his lingering gave you one last opportunity to take him all in. The muscles in his arms bulged beneath the white t-shirt he wore, and his hair had grown a tad longer since you'd spoken to him last, now curling around the nape of his neck and touching the collar of his shirt. Harry was taller than you, but not by much, though standing this close, it felt like he was a whole foot taller as you craned your neck to look at him.

Then, before you could ask if he'd forgotten something, he leaned forward. It took you a moment to realize what he'd done, but the lingering traces of heat on your forehead helped. He'd kissed you. On the forehead.

"See you tomorrow!"

Harry was gone in a flash, leaving you standing at the front door of your apartment with an open mouth as you tried to decide what his forehead kiss meant. To you, it felt sisterly, and you couldn't help the disappointment that swirled in your gut. You quickly pushed that feeling away, closing the door on whatever happened just then.

*.*

For the next few weeks, everything felt like it was back to normal. Better than normal, even. Despite the awkwardness you felt at having to see Harry after the odd forehead kiss, Harry acted like it never happened, which you were thankful for. You wouldn't have known what to say if he'd brought it up. Or tried to do it again.

But it became clear, despite the teeny tiny budding feelings you might have had for him, that he merely saw you as a friend. After your long talk with him at your apartment, Harry began showing you some of the work he'd been doing in his own studio down the hall from yours. It appeared he was getting over a break up too, though you never would've guessed by how cheerful he was most days. He still was, even as he explained a little about his most recent relationship, and you realized that while you hid your true emotions behind a wall, he might've been hiding behind his happy disposition. It made you want to dig deeper, to see what lay beneath all that "fineness."

As you spent more time with Harry, you also began hanging out with his friends. The first time you returned to his house for another game night, everyone seemed genuinely happy to see you, namely Sylvia. "I'm so glad you're spending more time with H," she'd said that night. "I love him to death but he's a clingy motherfucker when he's lonely."

That thought made you laugh. You recalled a conversation you'd had with Harry a while back when he'd said his friends were "disgustingly in love." He seemed like the kind of guy who loved love, but you also didn't want Sylvia, or any of his friends, to get the wrong idea.

"Oh I don't—I mean we're not—I don't think he sees me that way."

That wasn't how you wanted to explain yourself, seeing as you weren't even sure if you saw him that way. But Sylvia must have seen your flushed cheeks and understood your floundering because she smiled at you warmly.

"I think this calls for a girl's day. What do you think?"

"Oh. Um..." You didn't expect any of Harry's friends to want to hang out with you one on one, but you'd been leaning into trying new things lately. And girl's day? You grew up with three brothers, the last time you had anything resembling that was a tea party Hayden and Evan threw for you when you were six. "Sure. I could meet you for lunch this week if you'd like."

"Lunch sounds perfect."

A couple days passed until you had Buddy on his leash, walking down to the cafe you and Sylvia agreed on. You were a little nervous, but mostly excited. It had been a while since you'd hung out casually with a friend—you weren't counting Harry—and while you'd grown accustomed to the loneliness, you couldn't help but acknowledge that it felt nice to talk to someone other than your dog.

"Okay," Sylvia said once the waiter walked away with your orders. She'd held off asking about Harry, but now the time had come. "Hit me. What did Harold do?"

"Nothing," you said, perhaps a little too quickly. When Sylvia pinned you with a stare, you looked down at your glass of water. "He just...He gave me a kiss? On the forehead? And I don't know, it just read very...brotherly."

Sylvia sighed, which at the very least vindicated your feelings. It wasn't like you wanted anything more, but the whole thing left you feeling confused. A cheek kiss would've been easier to navigate, but the forehead? It left Y/n thinking about Harry more than she should've.

"Okay, I can see where you might be confused by that, but as someone with a brother, I can confidently say they don't do shit like that."

You weren't sure what you expected her to say, or what you even wanted her to say, but it wasn't that. Sylvia knew Harry fairly well, so it was safe to say that she was telling the truth, you just weren't ready to accept what she was implying.

"I do too, and I know the last thing I would expect from any of my brothers is a kiss on the forehead, but I don't know," you said, trying to remain as neutral as possible knowing Sylvia could report back to Harry. This whole thing was starting to feel very grade school-esque.

"Just know that Harry's a pretty open guy, but he's been burned in the past so he might be a little closed off or not be as inclined to make the first move," Sylvia said, though in some ways it sounded like a warning. "He's the greatest guy you'll ever meet, and whatever you decide, just be gentle, okay?"

It was hard to imagine someone as positive and happy as Harry having a dark past, but it sounded like there was a lot more than what met the eye as far as he was concerned. It was honestly a little comforting to know that he wasn't perfect. You were such a mess sometimes it seemed unfair that people wandered through life seemingly unscathed. You knew that was rarely ever the case, but sometimes it was hard to remember when guys like Harry walked around embracing life and had smiles for every occasion.

"I will," you promised, and you meant it. You were pretty sure nothing was going to happen between you and Harry, but you could appreciate Sylvia looking out for her friend. As nice as she had been to you so far, she was Harry's friend first. Her words made you wonder if you would ever have friends so fiercely loyal to you.

After that lunch with Sylvia, the weeks began to pass by in a blur. There were days when you saw Harry frequently, and then you wouldn't see him at all. He would show up at your studio to get coffee—at a new coffee shop, of course—you stopped by his to bring him and his friends baked goods, and sometimes you would end the night at one another's houses, a bottle of wine and takeout split between the two of you. You weren't dating, at least you wouldn't categorize whatever it was that you were doing as dating, but it felt nice to have someone in your life consistently again, and you liked that Harry was that person even more.

That didn't mean you couldn't read the signs. Sometimes Harry's gaze would linger when he thought you didn't notice, or he would sit a lot closer than was maybe necessary when you hung out with his friends. Sometimes his hand would brush yours as you watched a movie as if he wanted to hold it, and yours would brush back encourgingly, and then suddenly you were holding hands. To anyone else, it might have appeared confusing—in fact, Sylvia had vocalized her confusion over the non-relationship you and Harry were engaging in—but for you, not acknowledging what was happening and not putting any labels or definitions on this thing happening between the two of you was somehow easier to swallow. And since Harry seemed to be following your lead, he didn't say anything to object.

It was around Christmastime that things began to change. You'd spent your morning writing a song for an artist's Christmas album, a feat you'd managed to avoid in the past. But since you'd worked with the artist before and liked the vision she had for this album, you decided to at least try to write a holiday song. It wasn't necessarily that you disliked Christmas or the holidays, you were just indifferent to the season in question, and after everything that transpired two years ago now, you just never felt like celebrating much.

Harry Styles, however, was a huge fan of Christmas. his studio was decked out with lights and garlands, he got him and Sweet Pea matching sweaters, which you weren't entirely sure if he knitted or not, and he'd been bugging you since Thanksgiving to come over to decorate cookies. He'd finally worn you down and you were going over later tonight, but not before putting in a couple hours at the studio, which turned into sitting in on one of Harry's sessions.

It didn't happen often, but you did like seeing the team approach to writing songs as opposed to your usual solitary method. For the most part, you watched as Harry bounced ideas off his friends, observing as they focused on one chord progression or verse until something else stole their attention away. It was a bit chaotic, but everyone in the room seemed to be having fun.

It was in the middle of a heated debate between another fun, upbeat song or beginning to work on a ballad when the melody came to you. It was just piano chords, and had you been in your own studio, you would've immediately sat down to play it and see where it went. But this wasn't your studio, and it wasn't your session, and while you knew no one would've minded hearing your input, you felt nervous all of a sudden, self-conscious.

So instead, you pulled some blank sheet music out and began to scribble, writing as quickly as possible before the melody escaped you. The melody had taken up so much space in your head that everything else faded away. You envisioned arrangements, themes, a line or two sprouting as you wrote down the next note. Something sad and somber, the exact opposite of what Harry had been pushing for since he entered the studio.

"What am I now?" you wrote on the back of the sheet music. You didn't know how it would fit, but it would. You could tinker with the words later, so long as all your thoughts were written down somewhere, you would find a way to make it happen.

"What are you working on over there?"

Harry was suddenly at your side, and when he peeked over your shoulder, you didn't try to hide your frenzied notes. You handed them over, unsure if he even read sheet music. "It was just a thought I had. I can play it for you if you'd like?"

"Please," Harry said, gesturing to the piano in the corner of the room. It was then that you realized that everyone else had left the room at some point or another. At your questioning glance, Harry explained. "Ten minute break, but it felt like you were onto something...And I figured you'd be more willing to share if it wasn't in front of a group."

"Thank you," you said, those pesky butterflies swirling around in your stomach. They seemed to appear any time Harry so much as smiled at you. "It's just a melody, really, but maybe you can use it for something.

You sat down at the piano, eyes widening when Harry sat down beside you. Shaking it off, you focused on the piano, the keys cool and smooth to the touch, a familiar feeling that felt nice among such a different work setting. You explained your thought process to Harry a little bit, telling him the direction you hoped the song would go in and possible arrangements for it and whatnot. Harry, who apparently knew you better than you thought he did, nudged you with his elbow and encouraged you to play, knowing that you were stalling.

It wasn't that you were unsure of yourself or your talent. You knew you were good at what you did. You'd collaborated on multiple albums and worked with many well-known artists and bands, or artists who were just breaking out onto the scene and did so with the help of your songwriting. The difference here was that you normally didn't play an idea for anyone until it was fully realized. You typically sent over demos and typed up lyrics, and Harry would be one of the first to hear something that you'd only just come up with. Besides Buddy, but he didn't really count.

Taking a deep breath, you began to play, letting the chords you'd only just come up with pull your focus. After having played through it a couple times, you looked over at Harry, who had a faraway look in his eyes, an idea of his own forming in his head, perhaps.

"It's fairly simple, but I think that's what's rather beautiful about it," you said while still playing. "Sometimes you don't need much to get a response from someone, and I think a melody like this really allows an artist to shine, you know? Whether that's through their lyrics, or their vocal range, or both. And obviously it can be changed to a different key, this is just the one I wrote down, but...yeah, that's what I've got."

You finally stopped playing to hear Harry's opinion, though you wished you hadn't. Now your hands didn't really know what to do, and it took a lot of effort to keep them knotted together in your lap. Harry still looked pensive, as if he hadn't even heard your rambling, though now you were even more curious to know what he thought.

"Harry?"

Blinking, Harry turned toward you, his knee bumping against yours on the piano bench. His eyes cleared up as he remembered he wasn't alone in the studio. "Hm? Sorry, just thinking."

Offering him your pen and a fresh page in your journal, you said, "Did you maybe want to write it down?"

After that, you and Harry wrote hundreds of songs together. At least it felt like a hundred songs. Whether it was in the studio, or at each other's homes—mainly his because he had a home studio and a guest room for when sessions went too long—the two of you were almost always writing together. It wasn't always for his album, either. Sometimes Harry would help you with projects you were working on for other artists, or you would just write songs for the sake of writing them.

And it just worked. It felt like you and Harry just clicked. He was able to vocalize what you were trying to say to his producer, and you knew what he was thinking before he said it or the sound he was going for based off a couple descriptors. You'd never known someone so intimately before, or understood them so completely, Not even Gavin.

Harry was witty and smart and kind and genuine. He felt things deeply, and kept a lot of his darkest secrets and deepest insecurities incredibly close to his chest. You realized at some point that he was even more guarded than you in some ways. As you wrote together more and more, you obviously realized that there was more than met the eye when it came to your friend, but outside of songwriting, he wouldn't divulge much. He'd been through a breakup recently, that much you could tell, and while you wanted to know more, you respected his privacy and the desire to leave the past exactly where it was. Unless it came to the music, of course.

"So...you're what? Friends without all the benefits?" Sylvia asked you.

You met with her pretty regularly now for lunch during the week. Harry wasn't typically the topic of conversation, but on this occasion, Sylvia was giving you the third degree.

"We're co-workers. And friends," you added as an afterthought. Saying you were merely co-workers didn't seem right to you anymore, and you knew Harry would be upset if you thought otherwise. "I don't know what other benefits I would need outside of his companionship."

"Bull. Shit." Sylvia pinned you with a stare that made you blush. "Last weekend he had you practically sitting in his lap, and you're trying to tell me nothing's going on?"

"Not really. I don't think either of us are in a place to be in a relationship right now." It was the same line you fed to Andrew last week when you went to see one of his games. He thankfully bought it, or maybe he was just used to you keeping your love life to yourself, but Sylvia wasn't having it.

"What makes you say that?"

You shrugged. "I mean I'm definitely not, and I can just tell he's not there yet either. I mean, obviously, I've learned about his most recent relationship by working with him, but outside of that, he doesn't tell me anything. I don't even know her name."

You weren't offended that Harry didn't want to share about his ex. You wouldn't have told him about Gavin if you hadn't been put in that particular situation. But you understood better than most about that kind of pain. Maybe he wasn't ready. Maybe his feelings were getting all jumbled up between the past and the present. Or maybe he just didn't like you that way. The last theory hurt more than you cared to admit, but you were more scared of another potential relationship going up in flames than finding out the truth, so you decided ignorance really was bliss.

Sylvia nodded, understanding. You realized she must've known his ex, though you didn't ask for details. That was Harry's story to tell, not hers, and you were pretty sure Sylvia would say the same if you did ask. "I guess that's fair. But so, you're just...friends who kiss occasionally?"

You nearly choked on your sip of water. "What? No! Of course not. We don't—We—"

"Let me save you the struggle of coming up with an unconvincing lie," Sylvia said. "I've seen you."

"When?"

"Christmas party," she said, raising one finger as if she was about to list a few occurences.

"That was mistletoe. It was innocent," you said with a dismissive wave of your hand, even though said hand was suddenly clammy.

"New Year's."

"Everyone kisses at the end of the countdown!"

"At game night when he kissed your neck?"

"Why are you paying that close attention to my neck?"

"And," Slyvia said, pointedly ignoring your last remark. "I have it on good authority that Harry kissed you at the studio last week. Don't try to hide it, Y/n."

Sighing, you said, "So what's your point, exactly?"

"My point is that y'all are just pretending you're not in a relationship when you are!" she said, looking at you as if you had two heads. "Look, it's clear you've been through some shit and Harry has too, I won't deny that. But are you really going to put your happiness on the back burner because of it?"

Your cheeks burned at having been caught. It wasn't like you'd planned to kiss Harry any of those times. Each kiss came as a surprise, leaving you more and more breathless than the last and hopeful for another. What Sylvia didn't know was that you and Harry had kissed a lot more than the handful that she'd rattled off. Sometimes when it was late and you were over at his house working, he'd get this look in his eyes that would turn your whole body molten. He'd lean in close, nudge your nose with his, and then his lips were on yours and time suddenly didn't exist.

You liked kissing Harry. A lot. You liked the way his fingers gingerly held your jaw, you liked that kissing him gave you free rein to touch him wherever you wanted—his hair, his arms, beneath his shirt. Sometimes it felt like you couldn't get enough, but it always ended with one of you pulling away under the guise that it was getting late. Your lips would tingle long after, and you'd text Harry late at night when you should've been asleep, or he would call to talk about whatever he was thinking.

To anyone else, it wouldn't make sense, but it made sense to you and Harry. There was no pressure to be more, no urgency to define what you were doing, and that seemed to work for both of you.

"I'm perfectly happy right now," you said, and you were.

It had been a long time since you'd felt this content. Your breakup with Gavin left you feeling guilty and ashamed. And deep down, you knew you already felt more for Harry than you did for your ex, and that made you feel horrible too. Part of you still felt you were being greedy by trying to be this happy, that you should just take what you were given and try not to press your luck.

Sylvia took you by surprise by taking your hand. Her fingers were warm and reassuring, just as her eyes were when you finally met her gaze. It was safe to say now that she was your friend. She'd come over to your house multiple times for wine and movie nights, you went out to bars together, you'd met her partner, who was the absolute sweetest person on the planet. You valued Sylvia's friendship, and you valued her as a person. You didn't want to lose her if things with Harry progressed and fizzled out.

"It's okay to want more, Y/n," she said gently.

It was like she saw through all the bullshit and realized what you were really scared of. Harry was the only person who knew everything regarding your past relationship, but you told Sylvia bits and pieces. When you'd told her that you broke up with Gavin the night he wanted to propose, she didn't judge you, or ask why you'd throw away a perfectly good relationship. She was empathetic, and said she was sorry you had to go through that. It felt good to confide in someone who was willing to hear your side of the story, to have them realize if you could've loved Gavin the way he loved you, you would've.

"Maybe," you said. "But like I said, I'm not the only one who has shit to work through."

Sylvia nodded, letting the subject drop. But the words she'd said, It's okay to want more, needled at your brain the rest of the day.

*.*

"You should come with me."

You had been watching Sweet Pea doze contentedly on top of Buddy, who was curled in a ball on his dog bed. The two of them were an unlikely pair, but they'd gotten along great the first time they were introduced, and now you found it adorable any time they napped together.

Harry's voice was low and scratchy in your ear, as if he wasn't too far off from sleep himself. You were huddled together under a blanket on your couch, watching the credits roll on the second movie of the night, but you hadn't paid much attention to anything since the moment Harry pulled you to his chest and tucked his chin in the crook of your neck, peppering your skin with kisses as his thumbs rubbed circles beneath your shirt.

"What?" you asked, not having really heard him. It seemed impossible, but every day his touch became more and more dizzying.

"To Japan. You should come with me," he said. "It would be like a writing retreat."

Harry had mentioned his impromptu trip to Japan over dinner. He seemed excited about it, of getting out of town for a little while and just being alone with his thoughts. Those were his words, though now he was inviting you along.

"I don't even have a passport," you said, a non-answer, as Harry would call it.

"We'll get you one," he said. "Don't you think it would be fun to explore a new city together? Just the two of us?"

"W—What about Buddy?"

"Buddy can come to," Harry said, like it was all just so easy.

You thought back to your conversation with Sylvia a week ago. It's okay to want more, she'd said. At the time, you were content with this thing you and Harry were doing. It was simple and easy and pressure-free. A couple weeks later her words still nagged you. You hadn't mentioned wanting more to Harry, but this was different. This was...big. Appearing nonchalant didn't make it so.

"What are we?" you found yourself asking, hating how cliche the question was, even if you did need the answer all of a sudden.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, but you knew he was too smart to not understand.

Still, you sat up and faced him, forcing him to sit on the other side of the couch to have a proper conversation. "I meant exactly what I said, H. What—What are we doing here exactly?"

Harry's face flushed, the muscles in his arm flexing as he rubbed his neck. "I...I don't know. I thought we were okay with not really defining it."

Not defining it, or not talking about it? you thought, even though that wasn't really fair. You were just as content not to ask as he was until now. Or a few weeks ago, you couldn't exactly tell when you began to want more, or when wanting more stopped scaring you.

"I know, but now you're asking me to drop everything and fly to Japan for...for how long exactly?"

Harry shrugged, and your jaw ticked. "A couple months?"

"A couple months," you repeated, trying to align your thoughts. All you could hear though was, It's okay to want more. Taking a deep breath, you said, "I think...I think if I'm going to follow someone across the world for a couple months, I would like a definition about what it is we're doing."

"It's a writing retreat, Y/n. We would be working on songs. Just like we've always done."

You weren't sure when you became the brave one. Perhaps it was your conversation with Sylvia bolstering your confidence, or maybe it was Harry's reluctance to acknowledge the situation at hand, you weren't sure, but his reply wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

"I'd have to find my own hotel," you said. "Or an apartment to rent I guess."

"You'd stay with me obviously," Harry said, and you had to resist the urge to take him by the shoulders and shake him until he started seeing your perspective.

"Co-workers don't live together, H."

"But we're not just co-workers, Y/n. We're—"

Your brows raised, encouraging him to finish, but he ended up shaking his head. Running a tired hand over his face, he said, "I understand what you mean, but I can't...I can't give that to you right now."

You nodded, then stood up. "And I can't go to Japan without it."

It hurt, but at least he was being upfront about how he felt. It wasn't really fair of you to ask for more when both of you had been content to keep things simple. But somewhere down the line, you realized you liked Harry. A lot. You were okay with leaving your history with Gavin in the past, and you wanted to look to the future now. You'd thought that the future might include a relationship with Harry, but he wasn't ready, and you weren't sure if you wanted to wait. So much of the last two years had been waiting, hiding. Now you needed more. You craved it.

You felt like you were in some kind of alternate universe. One where Harry was scared and unsure of himself and unable to admit to what he wanted. You wanted more, and you weren't going to settle for anything less. You wanted to be more than his friend whom he kissed sometimes, you wanted to hear his scratchy voice as he woke up beside you, and you knew he did too, but something was holding him back. You'd spent too much time hiding from life and love to hide with him some more. Part of you wanted to, just because it was Harry, and you cared about him a lot, but a bigger part of you knew what you deserved, and it was okay to acknowledge that.

"I understand," he said, standing up with you.

Both of you were quiet as he gathered his things. You watched his broad shoulders shrug into his coat, the lean frame of his body bend down to put Sweet Pea in her little carrier. You felt the loss of him already, and he hadn't even gone yet, but you could feel the wall going up between the two of you. Both of you were guarded in your own ways, and both of you had been as vulnerable as you could be, but it wasn't enough.

"When are you planning on leaving?" you asked as you walked him to the door.

"Couple weeks," he said. "Just have to get the logistics figured out."

Nodding, you stepped into his offered embrace, letting yourself inhale the scent of his cologne and feel his arms around you for the last time for a while. His nose bumped yours in a move that was so familiar it made your heart squeeze. You weren't sure how long you stood like that, kissing until you couldn't breathe, it was only until Buddy's wet nose nudged the two of you apart that you finally stepped away from him. Harry bent down to scratch your dog's head and let him lick his cheek a few times before straightening back up. He was about to turn and leave when you called his name.

"I don't know what happened," you said, swallowing around the lump in your throat. "If you did something or if she did something to make you so...closed off, and from one heavily guarded person to another, I'm sorry that it happened and that it made you this way. I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for in Japan."

Harry grinned, but it wasn't wide enough to show his dimples. Without saying a word, he left, head bent as he walked down the hall, taking a piece of you with him.

Buddy nudged your leg, pulling away from the hall Harry already disappeared down. Your dog's eyes were big and curious and completely unaware of what was wrong, which brought a watery smile to your face. "Come on, bubba. Let's get ready for bed."

[rekino2114]

How the chainsaw man girls handle jealousy

A/n:I usually don't write for the csm 2 girls but let me know if you want me to and I'll add them to the masterlist (mainly cause I really like fami)

Makima

Thanks to you, makima, now could finally feel true emotions. You made her feel the happiness of being truly loved, the sadness of being without you, anger when a devil had the gall to hurt you, and the worry of when you came injured from a mission and so on..

She felt another one of those emotions when she saw you talking to another girl at the public safety headquarters, a particularly flirty one who apparently didn't know you were dating her boss.

Ah this must be jealousy.

She wasn't that bothered by it. She knows she can trust that you'll never leave her. However, the moment she starts touching you even after you clearly rejected her and is making you feel uncomfortable, that girl is dead.

She might have better morals after meeting you but she's not above killing who she deems as human scum.

But if things don't reach that stage, the girl might just be assigned a particularly difficult mission as her next

"Sorry, but I have a girlfriend,"

"Who cares? It's not like she's gonna know anyway"

"Sorry to interrupt, but I'd like to talk to y/n"

"Ah! M-miss makima!"

"Oh sure babe"

"B-babe? You mean she's your girlfriend"

"Exactly, and now that you know I suggest not looking forward to your next mission"

Power

The moment she sees you talking to another girl, she gets mad, she assumes you're cheating on her cause she doesn't have that much of an understanding of relationships.

In her eyes, you don't need anyone else when she's clearly the best option.

She's also really angry towards the girl. How dare she try to steal what's hers? Even though she wasn't flirting with you

"Hey! Y/n! What are you doing talking to this human"

"Oh power, don't worry she was just asking me directions"

"Like I believe that! You better go away this very moment I'll kill you!"

"Power be nice"

"Only if you stop talking to this bitch"

"*sigh* I'm so sorry"

Himeno

How she reacts depends on how drunk she is.

She gets really clingy when she is drunk, so she'll hug you from behind and lazily try to pull you away from the girl you were talking to while mumbling some incoherent words and that's usually your sign to take her home.

She's really not that jealous when sober, even when a girl flirts, she doesn't get mad, she understands her,after all if she didn't flirt with you she wouldn't have gotten with her amazing partner.

"Hey, you having fun without me over here?

"Oh sorry hime,I was just about to tell her I have a girlfriend"

"Oh you do? Sorry I had no idea"

"It's fine. I get it they're so stunning anyone would try to get with them"

"Did you just use the fact that a girl was flirting with me as a way to flirt with me?

"Guess so, I guess complimenting you is just second nature to me"

Kobeni higashiyama

This poor nervous wreck of a girl.

Whenever she sees you talking to another girl, she kinda gets anxious and starts comparing herself to that girl. Imagine how it is when a girl actually flirts with you

She starts overthinking and sweating,thoughts that you're gonna leave her for the other girl and how she's a bad girlfriend her fill her head.

She'd rather self combust than try to confront the girl with you around so she'll just continue wallowing in self-pity until you finish.

She needs a lot of hugs and reassurances later to calm down

"Hey, are you OK, kobeni? You were sweating and shaking"

"O-oh n-o i'm ok, what about t-that girl you were talking to?"

"I told her I had a girlfriend and she left, don't worry,more importantly, let's continue out date"

"R-really?"

"Of course you're my girlfriend right? I'd much rather hang out with you than some random girl"

"Uhm t-thank you"

Asa mitaka

She is also kind of anxious and worried just way less than kobeni.

She feels kind of like a bad and boring girlfriend often, and that feeling skyrockets when a girl flits with you.

She trusts you, but seeing you so close to that girl while she blatantly flirts with you just makes her feel kinda angry at her, and yoru definitely tries to take advantage of that.

"Come on don't you wanna get rid of her anyway"

"Not in that way yoru!"

"Just turn her into a weapon, that way I get a new one to fight chainsaw man, and you get to take care of that bitch"

"I'm not gonna do that"

"Geez you really are a bad girlfriend then"

"I'M NOT A BAD GIRLFRIEND"

"........"

"D-did I say that out loud?"

"Yeah but don't worry at least it was the truth"

Yoru

You and yoru begged asa to let her take control of her body for just an entire date. After a lot of hesitancy, she accepted but made yoru promise not to kill anyone........ You should probably think twice before trusting the war devil

The moment she saw another girl even look at you with a flirty gaze, immediately she turned her into a weapon without any hesitation.

You weren't that shocked, dating yoru does come with a very high chance of her trying to murder people she even thinks are trying to steal you, you were kinda mad at her for what she promised asa though.

"*sighs* why did you do that?"

"You're mine she was trying to take you from me. I could feel it"

"And how are you gonna explain it to asa?"

"Well it's not my problem"

"What?"

Then she feel unconscious the scars from her face disappeared and asa woke up looked at the weapon in her hand and then at you

"I'm so sorry asa I swear I can explain"

Fami

She was just coming back to your table with your fast food orders (she got way too much food for herself). When she saw you talking to a girl, she didn't recognize

She didn't think much about it maybe you were just talking to a friend. So she ignored the kinda weird feeling in her chest by doing her favorite thing (tied with spending time with you) eating.

The girl, meanwhile, was very freaked out that a random girl was staring at her with a cold glare and ringed eyes so she left allowing you to go back to your girlfriend.

"Hey fami, sorry if It took me long"

"It's fine, who was that girl you were with?

"I don't know she just came up to me and started flirting"

"I see"

"Why? Are you jealous"

"No I am not"

"Alright whatever you say, you did eat faster than usual though and that's saying something"

"*sighs* Humans are truly weird creatures"

[starcurtain]

I wish everyone collectively understood aventurine’s character like you…things would be so much easier! I genuinely don’t understand how people keep getting his motivations wrong??? Could it be because some of the most popular Aven fanfics were written prior to his release? That could have contributed to some of the takes we tend to see about him…thoughts?

I struggled all day to come up with a concise way to answer this and couldn't think of one, so here, have a long-winded ramble:

I don't think early fic writers have much impact in the situation with Aventurine's character now, since most people can look at when a story was posted and go "Oh, this was before we had ____ information."

I think that Aventurine's problem is being a male character in a gacha game. Gacha game characters are designed to sell. Hoyo can sell female characters very, very easily. Give her huge tits and a visible underwear strap and you're good to go. I love all my guy friends, but I'm not gonna sugarcoat it: straight men are not the hardest audience to please. Hit a particular fetish (feet, spandex, dommy mommy), and you're gucci.

Nah, we all know why Jade's trailer is Like That.™

Male characters in gacha are harder to sell because women as consumers are a little harder to predict. Does every woman want a tall, ripped hunk? Shit, no, small cute boyish models like Aventurine are selling better now? Why?! Would a bad boy be more popular than a nice guy??? It's harder to account for women's tastes, especially because they are often (a little) less visually-oriented.

Hoyo is good at what they do though, and they've figured out that male characters sell very well when they possess at least one of two specific traits:

Endearing vulnerability/helplessness

Gay ship tease

Give a character both, like Aventurine? They might as well be printing money.

That sound you hear is Hoyo's stock prices rising.

So, from the very beginning, Hoyo is incentivized to create a character that appeals to people, a character people will want to crack their wallets open for. And they achieved this, first and foremost, by giving Aventurine traits that female players (in particular, but men too), find especially appealing: emotional and physical vulnerability.

We see Aventurine's pain. We sympathize with his grief. We identify with his struggle to make meaning of his difficult life. He's our woobie, blorbo, babygirl, whatever the hell they're calling it now.

He can't hide his suffering anymore. He's on the very edge. He's a dude in distress. He's surrounded by enemies! He misses his mama! He's been betrayed! No one understands him like you do, dear player!

The ultimate feeling evoked is: He needs to be saved.

When people talk about male power fantasies, I think they forget that women can experience them too, and "Emotionally vulnerable man that only I (or my favorite character) can fix" is actually a female power fantasy.

And from there it's really easy, right: the people who shell out cash to buy warps for their harmed-husbando feel like they've saved him; the people who are into mlm ships look for the nearest hot dude to be the savior Ratio was waiting for his time lol.

Morally and intellectually, this type of deep-down-golden-hearted, emotionally-wounded male character is very easy to digest. There is nothing to dislike about this type of character or role in the story: this character is a good guy who has just gone through so many terrible situations, whose victim status makes him endearing, and whose lack of agency means that any of the questionable or downright bad things he does are always the result of someone else forcing his hand, and never something he would have chosen himself.

His motivations are always clear and consistent: get free, heal, and live happily ever after.

Insert the Wreck-It Ralph meme: "Do people assume all your problems got solved when a big strong man showed up?" But to be fair, a big strong man did kind of solve Aventurine's problem, so--

Anyway, it's simple. It's straightforward. Morally, it's pretty cut and dry, black and white: Aventurine is our hero, which means everyone dictating the course of his miserable life is evil.

Hoyo is not remotely discouraging people from literally buying into this emotional appeal.

And trust me, I get it. I'll be the first to admit that hurt-comfort is its own entire genre in fandom because it is so appealing. People eat up Aventurine's tragic backstory like candy! The idea of watching a character go through hell at the hands of bad guys just to finally find a happy end is like the definition of everyone's favorite story.

In fact... people love Aventurine's suffering so much, they have invented whole new ways for him to suffer that aren't even in the game.

This is where we get all the headcanons that Aventurine was a sex slave, every single person he meets hates him because of his race, the Stonehearts are executioners holding knives to his throat, Jade enslaved him to the IPC with a lifelong contract, his material possessions belong to the company, the IPC is forcing him to take only the most dangerous missions where he is being required by his evil jailers to continually put his life on the line... You name it and I promise you, I can find a fanfic where Aventurine suffers from it. 😂

Bro can't even sleep in on his day off; life is so hard for this man.

Being serious: if the game is telling us that Aventurine is a victim... Why not make him the perfect victim?

Why not envision an Aventurine with no freedom, who bears no responsibility for any of the horrible situations he is in or any of the dubious things he does?

It's so natural to like that version of Aventurine, so appealing to see a totally powerless underdog use his own wits and charms to claw his way up to freedom. Or, if you're the kind who really relishes angst: It's even appealing to see Aventurine lose more. To delight in fics where he loses his wealth, where the IPC punishes him for past crimes while he's powerless to stop them... (I assure you, this is many people's cup of tea and the fanfics prove it!)

Ultimately, there's nothing wrong with liking characters who are exactly this straightforward! It's completely fine to embrace characters that are intentionally written to be morally above-board, whose primary role in the story is to generate angst by being a good person who suffers, or those characters who never show unlikable traits, bad decisions, or contradictory actions.

The problem is that that's just not who the game is telling us Aventurine is.

Hoyo may be capitalizing off people who love to envision poor Aventurine still living his life as a slave... But the game also needs to tell a complicated enough story overall to appeal to people who don't care about this specific husbando--Aventurine's role in the actual game's plot has to be interesting enough for almost everyone to appreciate it, not just Aventurine's simp squad. (Don't get mad, I'm in the simp squad with you.)

So his character doesn't stop at just being a pure-hearted victim who is still waiting to be saved.

Aventurine is not that easy to label, and I think the biggest struggle in this character's fandom right now is between people who prefer the even-more-angsty, still-a-slave Aventurine versus people who want a morally grey, self-destructive character instead.

To me personally, while I greatly understand the appeal of fanon!Aventurine and the joy of a really juicy angst fic where characters lose it all, I think that missing out on the depth that canon is suggesting would be a real loss on the fandom's part.

The character motivations that Aventurine shows in the game are complicated. They cancel each other out. They're basically self-harm! He makes almost every situation he's in worse for himself--on purpose.

He is a good person, but also a person who has done unspeakable things. He does have morals, but he's not above allowing those who don't have them to use him to their advantage.

He's both the victim and the victor. He's his own worst enemy. He's a lost little boy who's been making terrible decisions for himself since he was like eight years old, and a grown ass man who is barely managing to fake his way through an existence that destiny is not letting him quit.

This kind of character is a lot harder to embrace. He's done things that most people would find appalling--like willingly joining up with the organization that let his entire race be massacred. He's invented a whole new peacock persona to frivolously flaunt riches he doesn't even care about (Poison Dart Frog Self-Defense 101). He actively plays into racist stereotypes about his people to manipulate others through their preconceived expectations. He's made a mockery of his mother's and sister's hopes and dreams by endlessly trying to throw his own life away.

He has flaws! He bet everything he had on a ploy without doing his homework to find out if the people he was risking his life for were even still around. (Maybe he already knew, and couldn't bear to admit it, even to himself.) He's intentionally off-putting and obnoxious to everyone he meets (Poison Dart Frog Self-Defense 102). He terrifies everyone who gets close to him by (seemingly) carelessly throwing himself into the jaws of death without the slightest provocation.

He knowingly allows the IPC to exploit his power and talents for profit. Did everyone forget that his role in the Strategic Investment Department is asset liquidation?! Like, his actual day-to-day job is ruining people's lives. Canonically, Aventurine kills people when his deals go bad.

His motivations change off-screen in two lines of story text. We're told in one line that his biggest reason for joining the IPC was to make money to save the Avgin, then in the next line we find out that's impossible. And... then what? What motivations does he even have now? The whole point of his character arc from 2.0-2.1 is that he was on the edge of giving in to utter despair and nihilism because he couldn't even perceive a single reason to stay alive. He has no purpose in life before Penacony, and that didn't start with the Stonehearts at all??

People keep saying Aventurine was held in the IPC by golden handcuffs, but how do you tie down someone for whom profit is meaningless? What can you offer to a man whose only desire is to bring back something already lost forever? How do you imprison someone whose only definition of freedom is, canonically, death?

Working for the Stonehearts is obviously not healthy. But that's why Aventurine was doing it--because taking dangerous missions allowed him to put himself at risk. The job that he originally pursued hoping to save his people became a direct means to self-harm, and the IPC's only real role in that was just happily profiting off the results.

The journal entries for Aventurine's quests are there deliberately to tell the player what is on his mind, and none of it has to do with escaping from his job:

Like... Work is the least of this man's problems.

At really the risk of rambling on too long now, he's also just a massive walking contradiction:

Aventurine is among the most explicitly religious characters in the game, yet he's one of the only people in the entire game that we have ever seen actively question his people's aeon.

You might be tempted to think Aventurine's risky gambles with his life as an adult are a result of giving up after finding out about the Avgin massacre... Butttt no, Hoyo makes sure to tell us that even at knee-high in the Sigonian desert, Kakavasha was already willing to risk himself in a fight to the death against monsters because even back then he found his own life to have less value than a single memento.

He's the "chosen one" who will lead his people to prosperity... except they're all dead.

He's explicitly suicidal... andddd also a pathstrider of Preservation.

He wants to die... He doesn't want to die. He wants to make it end, yet goes to staggering lengths to continually survive. (Every plan risks his life on purpose--but every plan's win condition is also to live.) He life is the chip tossed down, but his hand is trembling beneath the table. When faced with an otherwise unsurvivable situation, Aventurine literally became a winner of the Hunger Games. He beat other innocent people to death with his own chain-bound hands just to come out alive.

He knows the IPC failed the Avgin and left them to die... and he still willingly sought out a position of power in their organization. Maybe he really is after revenge... but maybe not.

He starts his journey in the IPC with a truly noble goal in mind: to help his people using his newfound wealth and power. He's a good guy who did genuinely want to save the Avgin and repay all those who helped him. But once it became clear he was too late, once it was obvious he would have no use at all for that monetary wealth and power he risked his life to get... What did he do with it? Unlike Jade, we don't see him over here donating to orphanages. (I'm not that heartless; I'm sure he does actually do a lot of good things with his money on the side, but the point is that the game does not show us that--it shows us, over and over again, Aventurine putting on a wasteful, over-indulgent persona toward wealth. We've supposed to feel how meaningless money is to him, how meaningless everything is becoming to him.)

He outright refuses to use underhanded tactics or to cheat at gambles, which is meant to show us that's he's more morally upright than his coworkers. There's an entire exchange where he says that he'll never stoop to using manipulation the way Opal does. But... he doesn't have any issue fulfilling Opal's exact agenda. He was never remotely morally conflicted about denying the Penaconians their freedom by dragging Penacony back under IPC control.

He's willing to risk his own life, which is one thing--but he's also willing to risk other people's well-being. Topaz accuses him of constantly egging their clients on into dangerous situations; we've actively seen him shove a gun into Ratio's hands and pull the trigger with no care for how Ratio would feel about that on their very first meeting... Dragging the Astral Express crew into the entire Penacony plan in the first place was exceedingly dangerous...

To me, I just think it's vital to understand his character through the lens of these contradictions because they demonstrate the extreme polarity of Aventurine's life: from rags to riches, from powerless to empowered by multiple aeons, from willing to kill to survive to killing himself... He has quite literally lived a life of "all or nothing," and while he is the victim of many terrible situations out of his control, his arc as a character involves facing the truth of himself and the future his own actions are hurtling him toward.

Frankly, the Aventurine that canon is suggesting is a little annoying. You want to grab him by the shoulders, shake him, and say "Why are you like this?!" And he won't even have an answer for you, because he doesn't even know why he's still alive.

In the end, to me, this is so, so much more interesting. I can read an endless supply of hurt-comfort fics where Aventurine escapes the evil IPC and Ratio is there to fill the void in his life with the power of love and catcakes and be a perfectly happy clam online, but I want canon to continue to serve us this incredible mess of a man who constantly takes one step forward and two steps back.

Who is fully aware of his role as a cog in the grotesque profit-wheel of cosmic capitalism and still manages to say he never changed from the rags-wearing desert rat of the Sigonian wastes.

Who over and over again flirts with nihility but, ultimately, even if he has to wrest it from the grip of the gods themselves with bloody, chain-bound hands, chooses life.

[sports-on-sundays]

Ahhh okay okay okay so inspired by Fermin having a gf now ( sad hours ) but anyway !! What if y/n has feeling for Fermin and she gets the courage to tell him about her feelings buuut she finds out that he has a gf and she starts to move on with Charles or Arthur 🤭 and Fermin finds out about her feelings but it’s already to late !

too late / Arthur Leclerc

Summary: Arthur x female!reader - When you find out your crush has a girlfriend, you start to move onto someone else. But when you're old crush, Fermín, finds out you once had feelings for him, though he's not sure anything would have changed, he still, for some reason, wished he would have known.

Warnings: a bit of anxiety/nervous energy, vertigo, swear

Requested?: Yes.

You sit on a bench outside a cute little coffee shop, listening as the person talking to you on the other side of the phone finishes, "...so yeah, anyways, it's super cool I got to meet you!"

"Yeah," you smile broadly. "You'll have to introduce me to your brother, too."

"Oh, of course. You know, I think we could be fri-"

"Oh, one second! Looks like my friend is here! Sorry, I got to go!" you respond quickly, your face lighting up to see none other than Fermín López sauntering down the street towards you, the biggest, cutest smile radiating off his handsome face.

"Oh, right, sorry- Nice talking to you!" the man on the phone says quickly with a little laugh.

And you hang up on Arthur Leclerc, popping up off the park bench to meet Fermín, slipping your cellphone into your gold purse. You beam at Fermín, exclaiming, "Hey! Ready to get some coffee?"

"Sure..." he says, a slight hint of confusion in his voice, perhaps at your overly energetic excitement this morning.

Well, that's because he has no idea what you're planning on doing this morning. Naturally.

"Well, you seem like you're in a good mood," the Spanish man says with a little smile, holding the door for you.

"I am! Actually, I'm in a great mood!" you exclaim, beaming.

"Right," he chuckles, eyes sparkling a bit.

Just as you order the coffee, rethinking for the one hundredth time what you're about to do, butterflies well up in your chest, so that the moment you're sitting across from him at the coffee table, you immediately say excitedly, "So, uh, Fermín! I've got... uhm, kind of, I guess, to admit, but also to ask you..."

He smiles a bit, nodding. "Is this why you seem to have all this nervous pent-up energy this morning? Sure, you can tell me anything."

You gulp, your high emotions very suddenly sinking at the thought that Fermín is exactly right.

You're only feeling this nervous because you're a nervous wreck, Y/n! your brain snaps at yourself.

All the sudden, you deflate like a short-lived balloon, releasing a long sigh as your hands immediately reach for a napkin to absently begin anxiously curling. "Um... yeah, so..."

Come on, Y/n. Just say it. A few moments ago, you were so excited...!

You sigh shakily before suddenly blurting, looking up to meet the 21-year-old's brown eyes, "Fermín, I guess I just wanted to say I like you. You're cute, and I... I've kind of had feelings for you for a while now, so..." you falter, feeling so embarrassed and warm, before pushing out the rest: "So, would you like to, like, date me or something? Like, do you feel the same way, I guess?"

"Oh, uhm-" Fermín begins, biting his lip. "Well, uh, thank you so much, Y/n, but..." he trails off as your heart begins to sink in dread.

You feel all the blood rush from your head, feeling a little dizzy. "But what?" you manage.

"But, well..." he smiles nervously, before finishing carefully, "Y/n, I guess you didn't hear, but I have a girlfriend now..."

Immediately, you feel a terrible, crushing, embarrassing shame crash over you, and you lean back, your hands shaking. "Oh- I-" you begin, but decide nothing you're going to say is going to make this situation better for either of you.

So you get up and run out of the coffee shop, leaving your nearly full coffee across the table from Fermín, to get cold and eventually be dumped down the sink.

For the next week, you kind of go into a state of depressed hermitage, out of the pure embarrassment and heartbreak of the single guy who you've been crushing on for over a year getting a girlfriend right before you decide to admit your emotions, basically making you feel like absolute crap. And making you look like a total fool.

You sigh, getting home from work one day and flopping on your couch, about to put on some stupid mindless television show to redirect your thoughts, when suddenly your phone begins ringing on the coffee table. You sigh and pick it up, and just stare at the screen for a few seconds when you see it's none other than Arthur Leclerc.

About a week before the incident with Fermín, so about two weeks ago now, you had the experience of your life, getting to go to a Formula 1 Grand Prix. You happened to, by sheer luck, to run into Arthur Leclerc, who was immediately extremely friendly and seemed to take a specific liking to you. You had a good conversation together, before he said he had to get going, but quickly wrote down his phone number for you, telling you to stay in touch, because he'd love to get to know you more.

So here you are, a heartbroken mess about Fermín López, staring at your phone as Arthur Leclerc tries to call you.

What's up with me and all these famous athlete sports boys?

You sigh, and though you really don't want to- in fact, it's kind of the last thing you feel like doing right now- you answer the call and press the phone to your ear, saying tentatively, "Hello...?"

"Hey, Y/n!" comes the cheery accented voice of the Monégasque. "Just calling, seeing how you're doing, and what you're up to!"

"Oh..." you sigh, not really sure what to say.

But Arthur immediately picks up on your lack of excitement. "Is something wrong?"

You're silent for a few moments, before figuring, Ah, what the heck? Might as well just tell him. The Leclerc's seem like they could be a relatively emotionally intelligent family, anyway, and saying simply, "Well, I haven't been doing so great, because a guy I really have been liking for a while kind of... rejected me. You see, he has a girlfriend, and I didn't know that..." You're still not sure why you're telling Arthur this, but regardless, it feels good to.

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry about that... That sucks... Well..." He's silent for a few seconds, before continuing, "Maybe I have some news that might cheer you up?"

"What?" you ask, not quite sure if anything could cheer you up about Fermín, until you finally just get over him yourself.

But then, just like that, Arthur Leclerc drops, "Would you like to come to the Monaco Grand Prix? I'll be there, and you said you wanted to meet my brother!"

You sit, stunned silent for a few seconds, before finally the rational side of your brain wins over and you say, "Oh, Arthur, I'd love to, but I just don't think I'll be able to. I live in Barcelona; that's not exactly a stroll away from Monte Carlo. And besides that, travelling, food, ticket, and lodging expenses would be through the roof. I'm so incredibly sorry to say this, but I just don't think something like that can work."

"Well, I do think it can work," Arthur suddenly chimes.

You sit in confused silence for a few more seconds, before saying, kind of annoyed at the rich Monaco-dweller, "How can you even say that?"

"Because," he begins, and somehow you can just tell he's smirking, "It's a short flight, and I can pay for your plane ticket, as well as your race ticket, paddock pass, you know, the works. And as for food and lodging, you can stay with me, of course!"

You sit, gaping and completely stunned silent this time, so much so that Arthur has to ask, "Uh... Are you still there, Y/n?"

"I- Y- Yeah, I am... I'm here... I just... Arthur-! Why on earth would you do all that for me?! We only met once! We're basically strangers! This is, like, our fourth conversation ever! You're crazy!"

"Call me crazy, but I've taken a liking to you, I guess. And you're pretty, and have got a heart of gold, and I think it would be cool to make a dream of yours come true. Or- a couple of your dreams come true, even. If that's okay with you!"

"What do you mean, if it's okay with me? Of course it's okay with me, but- it's just-"

"Alright, good, then! It's okay with you! I'll arrange everything for you, then, and I'll see you for the Monaco Grand Prix weekend?"

"I- I mean, I-"

"I'll see you then; au revoir!"

You sit on your couch, slowly taking the phone down away from your ear, just staring at it, your mouth still slightly hanging open, sort of frozen from whatever just happened.

What did just happen?!

"Hey!" Arthur Leclerc beams, swiftly walking up to you and taking your bags straight out of your hands, before teasing, "What, do you never fly? You look thoroughly lost!" He laughs a little.

"No, no," you laugh, snapping out of it, beaming to see the Monégasque man in front of you. "Just... yeah, anyways, great to see you again! And I still can't thank you enough for everything you're doing for m-"

"Oh, just wait to say one big 'thank you' at the end of the weekend, and let yourself enjoy the moment now. Come on, let's get to my house to drop off your stuff, and then, I'll bring you to dinner with my family."

"Wait, sorry, what?!" you ask in shock, following after him. "Did you just say dinner with your family?!"

"Yes, I sure did!" the 23-year-old beams as you catch up to him. "Just you wait and see- you'll love them!"

"This still doesn't feel right... We hardly know each other, and you're bringing me to meet your family?"

"Yeah, of course," Arthur says as he gets out of his car and comes around to open the door for you, before finishing, "I mean, Alexandra is going to be there!"

"Isn't she Charles's girlfriend," you deadpan.

"M-hm," Arthur responds with a little smile. "But it doesn't matter. Besides, if we get to know each other more, maybe one day you will be my girlfriend."

You stop walking up to the house and just stand there, gaping at him. "You're- You're so forward, my God!"

"What?" the older individual teases. "You don't like that?"

"I mean- I don't know- I guess I just wasn't expecting that..."

"Oh," he grins. "Well, it's funny when you gape at me like that. Either way, so far at least, you sure seem like my type." He grabs your wrist and says, pulling you toward the house, "Anyways, on we go!"

"Right..." you breathe, your head swirling from those words said by him.

Dinner is great with Arthur's family, and it's a dream come true to meet the Charles Leclerc (you're a huge fan), but it doesn't, surprisingly enough, get interesting until you make it make to Arthur's home, when he says, upon seeing you yawn, "Want to come to my room, and we can go to bed? I'm sleepy myself; it's been a long day for me, too."

You blink at him hesitantly, saying, "You're saying this in a way suggesting we're both sleeping in your room."

He's silent for a few seconds, before he nervously smiles and says, "Yeah... if that's okay with you."

You stare at him before a few seconds, before saying tentatively, "Okay... I guess."

So later, though you would've never, ever imagined this happening a week ago, you're all in your comfy pajamas, crawling into bed next to none other than Arthur Leclerc.

"You don't think this is... wrong, or anything?" you venture as you lay down.

He snorts, putting his arm around you. "No. Why would it be? We're just cuddling."

"Exactly!"

"And I want to get to know you more. So what's on your mind?"

You sigh. "What's on my mind is that it feels weird to be cuddling with someone the fifth time I've met them."

Suddenly Arthur has a cheeky smile on his face as he jokes, "Have you ever heard of one-night-stands? It means on the first time people meet-"

"Arthur!" you groan, rolling your eyes in slight amusement.

He just pats your shoulder, before a moment of silence follows, that for some reason doesn't feel awkward at all, though you would expect it to.

No, not at all. It's almost comfortable. Nearly comforting.

And when Arthur finally does start talking again, it's nice. He starts a conversation, and now, all the sudden, you feel willing to engage in it with him.

As the night goes further on, your voices become even more hushed, until, after hours of just laying and chatting together, Arthur's arm around you and rubbing your shoulder gently, when he's gently whispering, mid-sentence, you begin to doze.

There's a few seconds of silence from Arthur, until he whispers, "You asleep, Y/n?"

When he gets no response but your gentle, warm, steady breathing, he smiles and cuddles in closer, before closing his eyes and letting himself drift off into peaceful slumber as well.

For the rest of the whole weekend, you have a blast with Arthur in Monaco, every minute spent with him becoming more and more enjoyable. All you can think is that he may have been onto something with all his cuddling and silly flirting.

And now you stand in the Ferrari garage, your whole face lit up, adrenaline pumping through your body as you watch Charles Leclerc cross the finish line before any other driver.

In Monaco.

You feel Arthur's strong arm throw itself around your shoulders, pulling you to his side as he says near your ear, "Oh my God, Y/n... Charles won..."

You laugh a bit before looking up to meet Arthur's sparkling eyes. He's got a huge grin on his face, pure joy radiating off his being, and you squint, seeing a wet glistening on his cheeks, before suddenly realising and exclaiming, "Are you crying?!"

He grins even wider, if that's even possible, and says, his eyes searching yours and finding whatever they were looking for, "Yeah, and so what?"

You breathe shakily and suddenly, though you would've never pictured yourself doing this ever, throw your arms around Arthur Leclerc in a tight embrace. "I'm so happy for you!" you squeal, pressing your cheek into his chest.

"You should be happy for Charles!" he beams, laughing, snatching your hand. "And, anyways, let's go meet him by the finish line and watch him lift his trophy!" And just like that, the two of you are off running to see the 2024 Monaco Grand Prix race winner.

At the beginning of the weekend, you barely knew Arthur Leclerc. He was a nice guy who had shown a bit of interest in you who just so happened to be a rich racer boy from Monaco with a heart of gold. But by the end of the weekend, it almost feels natural to hug him, or pat his shoulder, or hold his hand.

Before the Monaco Grand Prix weekend, your heart and head still ached and pounded every single living moment, second of your time, reminding you of the loss and the jealousy you were feeling concerning Fermín López. Now, it all feels washed away with the affection and friendship that's been shown to you by Arthur Leclerc.

All of the sudden, you don't feel a desperation for Fermín anymore. You're content with having Arthur's contact in your phone, and knowing he's just as interested in you as you are in him.

It feels good when emotions are mutual.

So going back to Barcelona, it's different than when you left for Monaco.

There's a warmth in your chest and an excitement for what's to come, rather than the cold dread and regret you felt in such unbearable amounts when you left.

For days, you can't get Arthur out of your spinning head, and all the things about him you accidentally fell in love with.

But with Fermín, I never really did have a chance... But Arthur? Arthur started this whole thing. Clearly, he likes me.

And just as you're laying in bed in the morning, grinning about that instead of getting up to get dressed, your phone buzzes on your nightstand. You look over and snatch it up, excited that it may be a message from Arthur, but just stare when you open your phone and see it is instead from Fermín.

You don't know how to feel.

You quickly look to see what he's texted you.

Fermín: Hey I saw from your socials you went to the Monaco grand prix. I hope it was fun. want to meet up sometime?

You sigh, staring at that. Before, without a shadow of a doubt, no hesitation, you would have immediately said 'yes,' and been thoroughly excited about it.

But now, something has changed.

You sigh and decide, sort of on a whim, to just call him, instead.

He pick ups after only a few rings with, "Hello?"

"Hi, Fermín... What's up?"

"I'd like to know what's up with you! You went to the Monaco Grand Prix! How was it? Who'd you go with?"

"Oh," you smile a little. "Actually, I went with Charles Leclerc's little brother, Arthur Leclerc. I got to meet Charles and a bunch of the other drivers, but Arthur is famous in his own right, too."

"Oh, wow... Well, cool! So have you known Arthur Leclerc for a while, or...?"

You chuckle. "Actually, no. But he had a great time. I really like him, to be honest. He's really sweet; his whole family is."

"Ah..." Fermín says, kind of trailing off, before picking up and saying, "Oh, I looked up Arthur's Instagram. They're from Monaco, right?"

"Yeah, and Charles won! It was awesome!"

"Oh..." More silence, before Fermín finally says, "There's a picture of you and him on one of his posts... Are you guys dating or something?"

"Huh? No, why?"

"He's kissing your cheek in the picture."

You immediately blush and groan, "Arthur! Why did he post that one?!" You sigh. "No, we're not dating, but we both like each other a lot."

"Oh. You do?"

"Yeah, he's really super sweet. I'm so glad I met him; we really just clicked right away..."

"Oh... that's good to hear..." Fermín responds, not exactly feeling it was, for some reason.

After he gets off the phone with you, as he drives to training, he's deep in thought.

He knows you liked him, and probably did for a while. And asked him on a date soon after he started dating his girlfriend. But there was something about knowing you liked him, and knowing you're so sweet, that...

Perhaps a small little idea in the back of his head said, Well if this doesn't work out, I always know Y/n will be there.

And besides that, he's always valued your friendship so much. It feels weird to hear you moved on so fast to this race car driver dude.

As Fermín pulls into the parking lot, all he can think is a grave, I wish I would've known. I don't know if it would've changed anything, but either way, it's too late now...

[purplehairedwonder]

Heart(s)broken

I am not ready. I have been dreading this for over a year.

Nope.

Nope.

No thank you, please.

(Okay, but seriously. You're beaten to hell and are still serving face.)

Bepo is the bestest boi 😭 Their friendship is so important to me.

NGL, this is a cool shot.

Sulong Bepo, let's goooooo!

😭😭😭😭

🚨BEPO GRABBED KIKOKU 🚨

This just... I am still a wreck about this. This man lost his entire family and country when he was 10. He lost the one person who helped him open his heart again when he was 13. He then built up a crew of 20 strong that he sent away to protect them from Dressrosa. And now he's lost them too. Checkered fate indeed.

Oh, Bepo. You know he's also devastated by leaving the crew behind, but he knows they would want him to get Law out. So all he can do is trust in them. 💔

Bepo is me, and I am Bepo.

There goes One Piece, making me cry about a ship again.

I just... Wolf gave Law the Tang when he was 16. It's been his home for a decade. It's the most stable home he's had since before Flevance fell, and now that's gone, too. 💔💔💔

😭😭😭

THAT'S WHAT WE'VE BEEN WONDERING FOR THE PAST 400+ DAYS. ODA, I'M BEGGING YOU.

---

Anyway, I wrote a short fic about the aftermath of Winner Island (appropriately titled "Aftermath") after the chapter came out, and my emotions are still pretty much there.

[minhosimthings]

Girl Dad!Skz headcannons

Pairings: husband!Skz × wife!fem!reader

Warnings: fluff fluff fluff, mentions of pregnancy, reader wears a dress, mentions of food, teensy swearing

A/N: GUESS WHO HAS BABY FEVER AYY ITS THIS BITCH RIGHT HERE. I am so DONE with watching my fav idols play with babies and not expect me to die. WHERE IS MY CHAN WHO'LL GIVE MR A BABY HUH? anyways enjoy my very drunken headcannons

Bang Christopher Chan

DID I JUST HEAR BEST DAD IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD

This man was born to be a dad istg

He'd be so amazing when you're pregnant, like he'd ask his mom for advice, give you belly rubs if your ask and will willingly lend his entire closet to you.

Would be so supportive through the birth process, is not disgusted or anything because he is him.

"She looks just like you."

Would be just a teensy bit overprotective, just a teensy bit.

"And you will bring her back by 7 yes? Oh and what's your address for unrelated purposes?"

*sends the address to Minho incase he needs to murder anyone*

Would be so comforting when she gets her period

"you know I used to do this to your mother.", While massaging her back.

The baby would grow up multilingual and Chan would be so smug about it

"my daughter is my second producer

Lee Minho/Lee Know

Would have such mixed emotions when you tell him you're pregnant

On the one hand A PERSON MADE UP OF BOTH OF YOU? WOAH

On the other hand OH SHIT A PERSON WHO HAS BOTH OUR GENES

Cooks all your weird ass cravings for you but not before giving you a side eye

"Alright y'all are gonna get a sibling." *Is talking to the cats*

Buys everything cat themed

"baby what if the baby is a dog person?"

Y'all have twins, a boy and a girl (manifesting my twin dad Minho fantasies)

Would dance for them when they're babies and would get elated when they try to copy him

Pouts when their first word is mama

Brags so much about them

"I mean they are MY spawn, obviously they're better at dance than your kid, Susan"

Seo Changbin

GIRL DAD GIRL DAD GIRL DAD

So elated when you tell him you're pregnant

PREGNANT CUDDLES KZKSNSNJ

Would be a 100% on board with lifting your belly to save your back

When you find out it's a girl, he straight on sobs.

"I CAN'T HANDLE ANOTHER PAIR OF ADORABLE YN EYES LOOKING AT ME"

Holds the baby extra carefully in his buff ass arms

She looks like you part 2

Tea parties with her are serious buisness for him

"jagi can't you see im currently discussing with the princess about her magical dragon I'll do the dishes later."

Would probably ask her if she wants to go to the gym with her dad and when she says yes he'd be so happy

"you're better than your mother she can't even lift her ass up and go to the gym"

Hwang Hyunjin

When I say this man would paint you a portrait when you tell him you're pregnant-

HE'LL PAINT YOU A FUCKING PORTRAIT

So sweet with you all throughout but also a nervous wreck

Much like me

Would love to paint your belly if you allow him to

Would try your weird cravings with you

And actually like them

Let's not pretend like Hyun doesn't do the pregnant woman pose everyday

Cries so hard when your baby is born

He doesn't mind the gender or anything, but when he found out it's a girl-

"GUYS ITS A MINI Y/N"

She looks like you part 3

Such a clumsy mess when it comes to taking care of her

ART CLASSES ART CLASSES ART CLASSES

"Darling, we painted this for you."

Han Jisung

Immediately freezes when you tell him

Jisung.exe has stopped working

"wait so the protection didn't.... Protect?"

Now Y/N.exe has stopped working trying to figure out whether you actually used protection or not

Talks to your belly all day

Treats the baby like a gossip partner

"girl you won't believe what Hyunjin did today."

"what did he do?"

"yn shush I'm talking to our baby girl."

Is your personal high school cheerleader during the birth

"jagi you are slaying right now you can do this."

Cries when baby is born part 3

Calls her a co-producer part 2

Spoils her shitless

She has him wrapped around her finger, much like her mother :)

Making playlists with her is his love language

Lee Felix Yongbok

Did I just hear breeding kink

Cries when you tell him

Bakes so many brownies when you tell him like one time that you're craving his brownies

Makes your weird cravings part 3

Idk what it is with me and DanceRacha making all your weird cravings

Runs you baths, with bath salts, bath bombs, scented candles and massages your aching muscles I WILL DIE RIGHT NOW

Is the best during the birth, holds your hand allowing you to squeeze it as hard as you want

Dresses baby up like the fashionista she is

Is so amazed and ecstatic when the baby gets an Aussie accent

"JAGI SHE JUST SAID BREKKIE"

Kim Seungmin

Tsundere daddy meow

Will literally melt like his face will be like 🥺

Buys all the cute stuff on day one

I'm talking cradles, blinkies, toys, bonnets for some reason

"of course she needs a ponyo outfit darling come on"

Tones down his teasing a bit

Still makes fun of your penguin walk tho

And if you cry, he will comfort you and never forgive himself for it

Is kinda disgusted by the birth process but he's a strong soldier

Cries when baby is born part 4

Like Kim Seungmin crying is a real thing chat

Singing lessons are free for her, and she has her dad's angel voice!!

Also inherits her dad's roasting style, and she's the only one who can roast him back hehe

He kinda died inside when she told him he was old (he's never been prouder)

Yang Jeongin/ I.N

Bruh this guy istg

Mixed emotions part 2

"IM TOO YOUNG TO HAVE A CHILD"

Calms down eventually (after a slap on the head)

BELLY RUBS

Spoils the shit out of you because obviously

Asks his mum for advice part 2

Sings to your belly at night when he thinks you're asleep

Secretly hopes baby will have his dimple

He loves kids, so parenting is a natural thing that comes to him

Probably more experienced at holding a baby than you are

Feeds her for the first few days when you're tired

Perfect husband honestly he should marry me

Loves braiding her hair and giving her fashion advice

Mini fashion shows!!!

Dances with her a lot

[bloogers-boogers]

Lucifer: *kneeling down infront of Adam as he takes a small box out from his pocket*

Charlie gasped in realization of what is happening, covering her mouth with both hands, while the others snapped their heads to know what was going on.

Adam blinks dumbly while staring at Lucifer.

Lucifer, suddenly nervous by all the attention: ehem *clear throat as he pulls on his bowtie* Adam, it's been a pleasure being tied to you by all means of a very intimate relationship-

Adam: what class of shit is this? Nerd poetry in the hotel? It was already lame with all those songs

Lucifer: Adam, please. I'm trying to be romantic here. EHEM *clears throat once more but with much more intensity* I've fallen so deeply in love with you, that I've grown blind to your stupidity

Adam, immediately blushing: *stammering * f-fuck you!

Lucifer *opens the box revealing a beautiful golden snake ring with a green gem in its eyes*

Adam, exhales air with widened eyes.

Lucifer: what I'm trying to ask you is... would you give me the honor to be your husband, to love and cherish you for the rest of our eternal lives. Would you marry me, Adam? *a bunch of roses summoned from the ground with flames around Adam and the lights darkened only letting Adam steal the spotlight*

Charlie was wiping tears of joy as she watched the two from her seat next to the bar. She was a emotional wreck like Lucifer.

Adam blinks while processing everything.

Adam, says simply: no.

It took awhile for Lucifer to process Adams words before having to process his rejection, his heart sunk: No?

Adam, shrugs: No. I'm married, I cannot marry again unless I get a divorce those are the rules

Lucifer stands up immediately, absolutely confused and offended: YOU'RE MARRIED!? But! But- but Eve- she's gone, she left you! You said-

Adam, stops him with one hand in the air, correcting him: not Eve. To somebody else. Well something else

Lucifer lifts a brow even more in confusion: whaT? What do you mean by that?

Adam: yeah, it's kinda like a crazy story. So me and Lute once crashed into the archangels base and let me tell you it was scary as hell. We thought we were gonna get caught, so like, we were like really sneaky about it and somehow me and Lute split up and we got lost, that place is HUGE. But yeah, I entered this weird looking door that had a really intense shimmer around it and I went in and one thing lead to another and I got married to Michael's celestial goat

Lucifer: WHAT

Adam: I know, I know. Crazy stuff. Anyways, yeah, Michael caught us, obviously because his goat was involved here, took us to Sera. Scold the shit out of the three of us and he did try contacting God to brake our holy union but nope, nothing. So I'm stuck married to that goat until one of us dies DIES, like actually die.

Lucifer, still processing.

Lucifer: no fucking way a goat is preventing ME from marrying you!?

Adam: yes way. I told you I'm a man of my faith I cannot marry you until I'm single again

Lucifer: but you would marry me if you were??

Adam: uh duh? We've been together for over two years now, I think it's kinda official at this point

Lucifer poofs away as he summons books about how to brake heaven barriers

[thesummerstorms]

Anyway, so I just made it to issue 69 of The New Titans. ( Yeah, yeah.)

Which means I just finished The New Titans Annual #6, the one where Kory's marriage-of-state husband is murdered.

And look, I actually am totally willing to watch the writers explore themes around how being a part of an all-powerful hereditary monarchy that you truly believe has a duty towards the state/planet/people comes into conflict with things like family, love, or even basic personhood.

Myand'r as a fucking terrible father who was willing to sell his daughter into slavery versus his role of King and how that lead to the justification of it being one life (even his daughter's) to preserve all the lives on the planet. How he had watched his mother pay that price with her own life after every other royal family member died fighting to avoid it and she finally couldn't take the suffering any more.

Koriand'r suffering repeatedly at her sister's hands, terribly, over the course of a lifetime, and yet being forced to accept her father's will and her people's will in crowning Komand'r Queen or risk another civil war and all the casualties that endures.

Kory being forced to endure exile and then the indiginity of being summoned, commanded by the sister who has harmed her deeply. Because Kory has been raised to be free in her emotions, yes, but before even that, to be dutiful towards her people and obedient to the Crown. Because, again, if she doesn't it will be the rest of the planet that suffers, not Komand'r...

But at what point does she get to say no to her own suffering? When does she get to do less ruthless calculus?

Karras gets some of this too. Married for duty not love, despite desperately wanting to be with someone else, despite seeing how it wrecks both his and his intended 's lives, because the peace has to be kept. Challenging his long lost sister because of how she has used Tamaran 's people for her own gain and threatened a whole other planet, then dying even in victory.

Even Komand'r being rejected due to a disability and then finding acceptance from the people around her and a reconciliation (it seems) with her parents when she became useful as Queen, not because anything about her person had changed. (If anything her person got fucking worse.)

There is a really interesting conflict & dynamic to explore there! A whole question of what's owed to the society versus the individual and what it looks like to deal with a family where their love for you will never be their first priority, much less shielding you from harm.

And yet...

The writers ended the issue with Blackfire and Starfire hugging and reconciling. And man, that just felt like a cop out to the extreme.

I'm not sure that the conflict they set up could be ever fully resolved, but I absolutely do not buy it being ended with a demand followed by a hug.

And honestly, I know they spent quite a lot of time on the love triangle angle of this plotline (Kory, Dick, and Karras) and had Dick tell off Kory's father for her suffering.

But I wish they had allowed Kory to grapple with that conflict more outside of her romantic life and more in terms of dealing with what has happened to her.

At what point does duty become self-harm... And is that ever an excuse to escape it if lives hang in the balance?

Does she owe a family and a people who are willing to not just overlook her pain but orchestrate it for the greater good? If she does, then how much? To what end?

[a-midnight-smoke]

Keep him from breaking

___

Miguel O'Hara x m!reader

___

content: angst, hurt/comfort, a bit of fluff

trigger warnings: panic attack (not overly described but it's there), self-harm connected with said panic attack (scratching, pulling hair), mention of skipping meals

words: ~1 800

___

So, I finally wrote something again, and who would have thought that the thing breaking my 2 year writer's block would be fucking Miguel O'hara (it was predictable).

I don't agree with writers who characterize him as this suave flirt. Like, that is a broken, emotionally constipated, traumatized man, he would NOT make you call him papi, but then again, to each their own, write and read what you want, idc that much.

Miguel is a pathetic, wet cat, and so I wrote him breaking down in tears because he thought something happened to you. Call it emotional diarrhea after weeks of constipation. And that's my truth.

It's my first time posting a fic anywhere, I wrote this in one evening and then kept tweaking it for like 2 months and debating if I should post this cause I'm an anxious bitch, but finally said fuck it we ball.

Also, I'm a trans guy, and so my reader character will also be. I may write a gender-neutral reader, but not a female one. It's not really important in this particular story, but just so you know.

Also, also, english isn't my first language, so sorry for any mistakes. I appreciate feedback !

Anyway, if you like it you should like and reblog !! Thanks and have fun reading !!

___

Miguel's lungs were burning, but he couldn't stop. Not when he didn't know if you were safe. He needed to get to you. Make sure you're fine.

He crashed into your bedroom window, almost breaking it in the process. His red eyes darted to your bed, where you were not. You weren't in your bed. He called out your name but was only met with deafening silence.

He ran to the door, yanking it off the hinges in the process. Miguel could feel panic building in his chest, heart hammering in his ears.

He was in a trance, looking in every empty space in your apartment, calling for you, begging for you, and thrashing it when he didn't find you. He was breathing faster and harder by the seconds, his hands flying to his head to grab and pull at the strands harshly. Where were you? Someone must have kidnapped you, right? Why else would the apartment be empty?

The slight burn in his scalp didn't help to ease his rising panic, so he started clawing at his arms with his talons as he tried to think of what to do. He couldn't lose you, he couldn't. He needed you, more than life itself. He would tear the city apart to find you and had half a mind to do it already. He was heading for the window when-

The quiet janking of keys stopped him in place, staring at the front door, holding his breath. When he saw you enter, safe, sound and humming to yourself, something broke in him. Weeks of tension and stress finally catching up with him.

He pulled you into his arms, hiding his face in your neck as he started crying and hyperventilating, broken sobs escaping him, interrupted with occasional coughs as you stood still, stunned. His broad body enveloping yours, feeling you. He had to make sure he hadn't completely lost his mind, that you were really here.

As you got over your initial shock, you brought one hand to cradle Miguel's head, scratching slightly at his scalp and the other to trace soothing circles across his back, muttering soft reassurances.

But he couldn't stop hyperventilating, so you gently tried to pry him off of yourself, to no avail.

"Miguel? I need you to look at me, sweetheart." You cooed at him, and after some more coaxing, he pulled away, making sure you were holding his hands. Sobs wrecked through his body, face covered in tears and snot, bloodshot eyes accentuating the redness of his irises. He couldn't look away from you, couldn't stop touching you, afraid that you would disappear if he did.

You brought his hands to your chest, making it a point to breathe deeply and evenly.

"Breathe with me, Mig. Can you do that for me?" you spoke softly and slowly, trying to calm him down. He took a shaky breath that was interrupted by a coughing fit.

"Take it easy, sweetie. Just breathe with me."

It took some time, but his breathing started to finally even out, his sobs now just hiccups. His legs gave out, and you both tumbled to the floor, Miguel quickly wrapping you in his arms once again, listening and feeling your heartbeat. You hugged him back, resuming your earlier ministrations until he stopped crying completely. You stayed like that, on the floor of your trashed apartment, until Miguel spoke in a shaky, raspy from crying voice.

"I thought something… that something happened to you. When I couldn't find you here. That somebody took you from me." He grabbed onto you harder, digging his talonless fingers into your waist when you started to pull away, but you persisted, wanting to see his face. He reluctantly pulled away again, still holding your waist.

"Why would something happen to me? Why would somebody take me?" You would be lying if you said that seeing your, normally emotionally constipated, boyfriend in such a state of disarray didn't make you feel a bit anxious.

"T'was just this guy I was interrogating, let 'im get into my head." he mumbled. In hindsight, the guy was just a pawn, probably didn't know anything and was bluffing to get a rise out of Miguel. Which, combined with his high stress levels and deteriorating mental health, led to the situation at hand.

He tensed when he heard you sigh. Were you annoyed with him? Were you mad at him? You should be, he destroyed your apartment. You should just throw him out, really. He was good for nothing and did not deserve you. It would be better for everyone if he-

"Hey," your voice was still so soft, "get out of your head, Miguel." he slowly looked up to see you staring at him with a worried, but not angry, expression. You cradled his face, Miguel leaning into it instinctively and closing his eyes. You looked over him, over his bruised face, bloody lips and bloodshot eyes with dark bags underneath. He looked thinner than the last time you saw him, with his sunken cheeks. You scrunched your eyebrows.

"When was the last time you slept? And ate?" Well, that's embarrassing. Miguel looked away, feeling his cheeks heat up.

"Miguel..."

"Like four days ago? " He wished he hadn't said anything, he usually didn't, he would insist he was fine, but he was just so tired the words slipped from him without much thought. "Food's making me feel nauseas, so I started skipping meals."

The look on your face was something he didn't want to see ever again.

"Miguel, you can't keep doing this. You should have told me, or Gabriel, or anyone really. It's not healthy," you tried to catch his eyes, which he was expertly avoiding. He grimaced.

"You all have enough on your plate as it is. I make sure the multiverse won't collapse in on itself, I should be able to take care of myself. I'm a grown man." He withdrew his hands completely, ignoring the part of his brain screaming at him to not let go of you, going back to scratching at himself, which caused you to look down. Your breath caught in your throat. His forearms were completely covered in blood, which was still seeping from some of the deeper wounds where he tore his suit. You tried to take his hands into yours, but he crossed his arms over his chest, continuing to avoid your gaze.

"Miguel," you started, voice firm, but with a soft note, "you are not a burden. You never could be, not to me. I love you so much, it pains me to see you hurt yourself like this. It doesn't matter that you're a grown man, you shouldn't feel like you have to keep everything to yourself, like you can't reach out to me, or anybody, for help. Let me take care of you. You deserve to be taken care of, no matter what you brain is telling you." You sighed, calming your racing heart.

"I'm sorry, Miguel," he snapped his eyes to you.

"Why are you sorry?" His voice was quiet and hoarse.

"I'm sorry that I didn't see you struggling sooner, that you felt like you couldn't talk with me about it. Four days? Without sleep and food? You have to be exhausted, even with your mutations. How are you even thinking clearly right now?" He doesn't, that's why your apartment is trashed. He looks around the destroyed room, feeling his anxiety creep back up. He opened his mouth to talk, but you beat him to it.

"Don't worry, you'll help me clean up after you get some sleep and eat." You pulled both of you up, struggling a little with Miguel, who had gone quiet again. He let himself be guided to the bathroom, just now starting to feel the burning from his arms.

You undress the bigger man and move him around, all fight having completely sucked out of him. You wash his wounds carefully before stitching the deeper ones and starting to prepare a bath. Now, in the space of your bathroom, the only room that wasn't a complete mess, Miguel realized how exhausted he really was. Guess you really can't sustain yourself on pure spite and adrenaline.

When the water is ready, you guide him into the tub before getting in yourself. You were never more grateful for the big bathtub, fitting Miguel's bruised and tired body, and you straddling him. The water is amazingly hot, already working magic on his tense muscles. You start washing his face with a soft washcloth, careful of his split lip, cleaning him of snot and leftover tears and Miguel's cheeks are heating up, his hands gripping your waist harder at being handled so delicately. He still couldn't get used to your attentiveness. Your hands are gentle on his skin, moving down to his neck and chest, washing away the sweat and grime, mindful of his bruises and leaving soft pecks after washing them and working through the knots in his muscles.

He's finally starting to relax as you move yourself to wash his hair. Your fingers carding through tangled hair, starting to unknot it. You're humming a calming tune, while Miguel sits with closed eyes. Finally letting himself be taken care of. Letting himself be vulnerable. He makes a noise low in his throat, making his chest vibrate a bit before stopping abruptly. You don't pay it any mind, not wanting to draw him out of his relaxed state.

You finish washing Miguel, drain the water, and dry him off, wrapping the towel around his waist and grabbing another to dry his hair. You wrap up all remaining cuts and then guide him to your bedroom, thankful that he at least didn't flip the whole bed upside down. Among the chaos, you find his clothes that he left, helping him dress, since he was practically already asleep, and laying him down on the bed. After getting him under the covers picked up from the floor, you pull away to get ready for bed when he grabs your wrist and looks at you sleepily, but still a little panicked.

"I'll just get ready for bed quickly and get back, okay, sweetheart?" After a moment, he nods slightly and lets go of you, still reluctantly, but he doesn't let himself fall asleep while you're not with him.

When you come back, Miguel is laying with his eyes barely open, fighting off sleep. You smile at the sight and go lay down beside him. He immediately brings you closer, pulling you on top of him, but you just tangle your hand into his locks and listen to his slowing heartbeat.

"You okay, now?" You whisper into the dark but are only met with Miguel's quiet snores. You press one more kiss to his chest, right over his heart.

Sleep never came as easy as tonight.

___

Yes, Miguel stopped himself from purring.

I'm thinking of making a second part that's just pure domesticity and fluff, we'll see.

Anyway, my dog puked on my carpet while I was making final edits to this just now.

[luminouslywriting]

Previous domestic anon - I'm baaaaaack. I love, love, love your take on domestic Gale! If you have the time and inspiration, would you be interested in expanding on pregnancy/parenting/Dad Gale hcs as well? Your writing is amazing, thank you for taking the time to share it!

Ahh this is such a cute idea!! I can definitely try my hand at this haha 🥰🤍 I’m loving these asks so keep sending them in!! Admittedly, this one was slightly angsty at the beginning haha! Pregnancy thoughts below the cut!

-I think that initially before pregnancy is even a thought on the table, Gale is above all things a man who is nervous and unsure about having kids because of his own father and some of the neglect and abuse that he endured. That definitely plays a part in his insecurities and doesn’t really know what a father is supposed to be anyway—but that doesn’t mean he’s not willing to try.

-I think communication, especially where he has a hard time expressing deep feelings and emotions, is going to be a process and he is going to need you to be patient with him.

-now if things are less abstract in the sense of you already being pregnant, I think he needs to take some time to think things through and gather his thoughts and figure out how to be supportive to you while also addressing his own fears and worries.

-He definitely cries when you tell him that you’re pregnant. There’s not a lot of words beyond “I love you” but he’s still unsure about a lot of things. -But once that is out of the way, this man is the softest, sweetest, gentlest man when it comes to you being pregnant and that little baby. -I absolutely picture him as the type of guy to immediately start talking to the baby at nighttime when you’re asleep. It doubles as a coping mechanism for him and a way for him to express himself and figure out how he’s feeling.

-He has sooooo many dreams and hopes for this little baby and he’s constantly wondering about who the baby is going to look more like, what their personality will be like, if it’s a boy or a girl, or what their name will be. -He tests out names after work. When he comes home, it’s usually with a name suggestion and if either of you like it, then it goes in a jar in the kitchen for potential names to narrow down. -Absolutely a wreck at first?? Like he’s trying to figure out what brand of crib is going to be the safest and WHY are there so many different types of bottles and WHY are there so many different diapers?? -So you may need to help him calm down a little bit because it’s still very early in the pregnancy and you have lots of time before you need any of that stuff. -Gale Cleven strikes me as the type of man to dote on a pregnant wife; we’re talking neck and foot massages, holding you while you’re sleeping and trying to make sure you’re comfortable, if you’re carrying heavy things then he’s taking the load—yes this applies to groceries too. -Completely in awe of you as your body changes and adapts for the baby. He’s literally the most starry-eyed man as he watches you get ready in the morning and at nighttime. -COMPLIMENTS AND HYPES YOU UP

-Helps you with your shoes

-If you have pregnancy nausea or morning sickness, this man is PREPARED. Like, he worries at first, but then he understands and he’ll hold your hair up and rub your back and set lavender or peppermint near you while you’re resting. -He heard somewhere that music and reading to the baby to familiarize your voices is a good idea and he’s absolutely doing that in the evenings

-Loves slow dancing with you in the kitchen and discussing the baby

-Was really excited to put together the nursery

-Is literally the most patient when it comes to your mood swings or cravings. Because listen, this is the man that put up with Bucky’s delulu baseball girl dreams in the POW Camp. If he can handle that, he can handle you. Might get a bit of whiplash though haha. -Goes faithfully with you to every appointment and tries to read up as much as he can so he’s educated about what is happening to your body. -When the baby bump actually shows up, he’s SMITTEN 🤩

-Literally is the proudest man ever and immediately sent letters and pictures to the men of the Hundredth

-Bucky is the godfather, I don’t make the rules. -And labor? Listen, this man is NOT leaving your side and he’s absolutely getting as sassy with the doctor as he was when he told his copilot to sit there and take it 😌

-But the minute that baby is born? He’s the most emotional whimpering wreck of a human being who has never seen anything so perfect in his life. -Cried for an abnormally long time and was very concerned he was going to drop the baby??? Which he wasn’t, and he didn’t, but the fear was there. -And then dad Gale thoughts?? -He’s so patient and understanding and loving to his children. He loves getting to spend time with them individually. -Gale has the mentality of “we don’t negotiate with terrorists” when it comes to the kids though so that does mean a strict bedtime and some rules being adhered haha

-But the kids ADORE him

-He’s not super involved in, like, PTA or anything but he is SO supportive. Your daughter has a dance or a music recital? He’s on the front row, accompanied by you and Bucky and clapping his little heart out. Your son decides he wants to do baseball? Gale is going to grimace and ask Bucky for how to help his kid learn and get better. -He is the homework helper dad haha. -Definitely is involved in bedtime routines for the kids and making sure teeth are brushed, kids are bathed, and a story is told. -Helps with every single science fair project and the kids always win haha. -Is honestly wrapped around your children’s fingers. -He changes a little bit when the kids start to be old enough to actually have conversations with and he becomes more vocal. Because his dad never told him that he was proud of Gale, he makes a point to say how much he loves the kids and how proud he is of every little thing they do! -Gale carries pictures of the kids in his wallet and proudly brags about them when asked about his family.

-And I could keep going forever haha….but here’s a little fun with that

Some spicy thoughts below:

-The best most praising and body-worshipping pregnancy sex

-He runs warm baths to help with body aches and helps you wash up. Also really enjoys putting lotion on your belly when the stretch marks start showing up. -Is very creative with positions so you can be comfortable haha

-Maternity clothing shopping always gets a little frisky haha

-And he can’t help it, but he thinks you’re even prettier while pregnant, so he definitely has a higher sex drive to match yours. -Sneaking quickies in between the baby napping in the evening

-If you’re self conscious of your body after pregnancy, he will cure that with the best orgasms of your life

-Definitely develops a breeding kink after the first child haha

-Is still the sweetest husband ever and always takes the time in between raising the kids to let you know how much he loves you…..and then he proceeds to show you how much 🤩

[nyxthejinx]

Hello! How’s your day/night going?

May I request a drabble of Diluc with an g/n s/o that haves fox’s ears? Like Miko but it’s pointing upwards not down. And their ear’s go with their emotions ;

Happy = go straight up

Sad = slowly go downwards

shy/embarrassed = go downwards really fast

If not that’s completely fine! Have the good rest of your day/night!

Archons-know-how-many-months-later, my night's going pretty well, sleep deprivation aside. I'm sorry it took so long, but it was an interesting prompt to go with. I'm not fully satisfied with how it came out, but I hope you'll like it anyways <3

𝐓𝐖: Nothing but fluff, one kiss. It's a misunderstanding but comical.

𝐅𝐭.: Diluc - GN!Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.1k

𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨: Hanging With the Boys - OMORI

Diluc has always been secretly fascinated by your ears.

He never really brought up the topic or pointed out anything, fearing it would make him sound rude and you feel uncomfortable. And yet still to this day he founds endearing the way you show emotions through them.

On most days they'd be staying up proudly, paired with one of your unresistable smiles, while on some occations he'd seen them bend like a withered flowers, pulled downwards just like your lips in a sign of sadness.

But his favourite has to be without a doubt the sight of them flattening in a heartbeat, as you poorly hide that clumsy shyness he's grown so fond of.

What Diluc doesn't like, though, are those days when they're leaned backwards, forming a sharp 90 degrees angle with the back of your head. Days when you're upset, annoyed at something and/or someone.

Days when he automatically returns on his footsteps and tries to figure out whether it was his fault or not.

Today is one of those days.

It had started in the morning, with you marching down the corridor and completely ignoring the open door of his office. Being with his nose buried in paperwork, Diluc didn't exactly notice the lack of usual "have a good day" kiss. It was Adelinde who pointed out your strange behaviour and rang the bells in the back of his mind.

But why? He'd come home earlier yesterday, cuddled on the bed while you read your book, had a nice dinner together and slept with you in his arms. You'd kept your ears pointed all the way up the entire time!

Was someone bothering you? Did he subconsciously annoy you? Were you feeling unwell? Should he call a doctor?

"Please, calm down, master Diluc," Adelinde sighs, as she dusts the libraries in his office. "If they were in any pain they'd voice their discomfort. Master [Name] knows how concerned you get over their wellbeing."

Diluc, on the other hand, is having none of it. "I wouldn't know, Adelinde." He sinks in his chair, a frown etched on his forehead. "We're both well aware of their stubborness."

"You ought talk to them, then." She says. "Communication is the key."

Communication is the key.

Well, it is either the key for peace or chaos, Diluc thinks, an idea that's surely bound to fail popping up in his mind.

Candles? Lit. Table? Set. Dinner made by the man himself? Ready to help you ease the mood, it's your favourite after all.

It took him the rest of the evening to lay everything out for when you'd be back. It's a bit old fashioned, nothing too special, just like he is, but he knows you like it exactly this way.

Adelinde actually shook her head at the length he was going for this whole ordeal. But anyways-

Diluc stands by the window, waiting for any sign of your arrival. He focuses on his dull reflection, checks the outfit he'd chosen -casual, but still flattering in a way- and perks up upon seeing your figure approaching the manor.

He squints and- yes, your ears are still bent backwards, but not completely: more like a perturbed neutrality.

Well, make or break.

The door clicks open and he hears you shuffling around.

"Welcome back, Love." He makes his way to the entrance, hoping to look natural in his movements. When in reality he's a nervous wreck. "Let me help you with that."

Diluc gives you a small smile, makes quick work of your jacket, hanging it to the rack and subtly pushing you towards the decorated table. He doesn't give you time to ask any question, nor elaborate your confusion and stupor, as he accompanies you by the small of your back.

"How was your day?" He questions. Meanwhile he's already moved the chair, waiting for you to sit.

"Uh, fine, I guess?" You don't hide your hesitancy, as you lower yourself on the cushioned seat with a quirked brow. "What about you- this," You gesture around yourself, then towards Diluc. "What's the occasion?"

Diluc pushes you into position. He clears his throat, hands stilling on the seat back. "You seemed... Off, earlier this morning, Love. I was hoping a nice dinner would ease your mind."

"I prepared your favourite." And with that he slinks away. Or at least tries to.

You're quick to latch your fingers onto the sleeve of his shirt. "'Luc, I appreciate the thought, but I'm pretty sure there's something more going on."

You yank him gently, force him to face you fully and look at you in the eyes, when you notice that his gaze is aimed a little above yours.

"...Well?"

He stares up, back down, up again. And then he sighs. He sounds absolutely mortified. "It was my intention to have a chat about your sour mood. You appeared distressed when you left the Winery, your..." His cheeks start to gain colour. "Your ears. I've only ever seen them that way after an argument, or whenever you're upset. I was worried I enraged you unknowingly."

His free hand flies to cover the lower half of his face, as if he knows he's blushing like mad, while his eyes wander to the floor. Diluc looks like a kicked puppy, poor thing.

And suddenly you chuckle, your ears perking all the way up like usual. As if nothing at all had happened.

"'Luc, Love, I'm sorry." You smile. "I wasn't mad at you!"

"U-Uh?"

"Remember the book I was reading before bed?" You place both your hands on his biceps and get on your feet. "Well, I read the few pages I had left right this morning. And I didn't like the ending at all."

Oh. Oh.

So it was about the book.

Diluc stares at you dumbfounded. He's overheating, and he doesn't know if it's from shame, stress discharging or the incredible proximity of your bodies.

He feels your hands slide all the way up, locking behind his neck as your face inches closer and closer. A soft, yet amused smile pulling at your lips. "You're too sweet for this world."

And you peck him, quick but loving nevertheless. Take a step back and pat his chest. "You said you cooked my favourite, right? Can't wait to dig in."

And you sit once again, starting to ramble about your real day with a cozy enthusiasm he loves so much.

It takes him another ten seconds. But then he smiles, gazes at you with eyes brimming with adoration.

How he loves seeing you with your ears up.

DON'T copy/repost my work. REBLOG instead! ©nyxthejinx

[dorylinae-supremacy]

Tags: Dark SBI, dark Phil, dark Techno, royalty au, memory loss, implied character death, he doesnt die though, skrunkly Techno, Wilbur is in here just a heads up, just the character though, fuck the real guy, this is full of brainrot, you get the vibes as you read, its like 1K minimum I think

AU where Techno is a prince who gets kidnapped by political rivals.

Obviously, they know theyre gonna get caught. All they can do is cause as much damage as possible to the family before theyre caught and inevitably killed.

So they wipe the princes memory and toss him out on the streets. The blood prince, famous for his violence and cruelty, reduced to a confused wreck with no idea of who or where he is.

Anyway so they're caught and die with the knowledge of wherever they dumped Techno so the entire nation is just on a massive search party.

Tech is presumed dead because there is literally 0 universe where he wouldnt immediately make himself known to his family and that just makes Phil even darker when it comes to keeping his last remaining kid safe.

(I'm thinking Tommy so there can be some dark clingy Tommy action later on)

I think Wil eventually bumps into Tech and is confused on why theres just some random guy on his own in his bakery with like no clue how to do anything.

So he takes him in.

Not really intentionally at first but he gives him a place to stay because he's lonely and he'd feel bad if anything happened to Techno but they get along really well and become attached.

Obviously that means stuff has to go wrong but before that I'm thinking there are a few moments where Techno vaguely remembers stuff from who he was and just doesn't know what to do with it.

Maybe Wilbur braids his hair a certain way and it feels so familiar and somewhere in his mind he just knows that someone did this for him before.

Meanwhile Phils in the castle all sad because he misses braiding Technos hair every morning.

But maybe he also sees some kids playing and being mischevious and he feels so fond but has no clue why. The kids push each other around and mimic sword fights and he thinks he can remember knowing a kid who did the exact same but never being able to really grasp it.

He just misses people who he doesn't know and cant describe and he gets very skrunkly about it because clearly no ones been looking for him so obviously they didn't care about him as much as he did them.

But he gets very close with Wilbur and maybe Wil leaves to go off and get something so Techno mans the bakery while he's gone.

Thats when Niki comes in. Maybe Ranboo dragged her in or something because they've heard nothing but good review but either way they walk into some random bakery and just see the fucking crown prince working as the casheir.

The same crown prince that has been presumed dead for months and has had an entire funeral thrown for him already.

Techno is obviously very confused when they start asking him where he's been and what he's doing there but doesnt exactly get a say in anything as he's dragged out the shop and put on the first carriage back to the palace.

There's obviously a reunion that only makes Phil even darker because his baby doesn't fucking recognise him and barely lets him touch him so he's torn between playing nice and letting Tech come to him and just crushing his son in his arms and never letting him go.

He finds an odd in between where he tries so hard to be patient like a spider in a web but he misses his sonboy and occasionally slips up real bad which freaks Techno out.

He also tries to give all the things Techno used to love. People to kill, gold, weapons etc, but none of it really works. All Techno wants is the only comfort he's had since he woke up confused and lost.

Wilbur.

Meanwhile Wilburs being angsty because he got supper attached to Tech and thinks he just wandered too far but no ones seen him so he's just really sulky and sad.

Techno really was just kinda his emotional support buddy / pseudo brother so now he's dealing with just so many abandonment issues and he's worried sick that Techno could be sick or hurt somewhere and just as confused as when he found him.

That is until the fucking emperor himself turns up at his door and demands to know what Wilbur did to his son.

Wil is terrified and genuinely has no clue what is going on but rambles like everything he knows anyway. Phils pretty unconvinced but gestures for the guards to bring in Tech and Tech practically crushes Wil in the strength of a hug.

They both just immediately break down because they were so worried and scared for each other (brothers <3) and Phil really gets to see exactly how much Technos changed.

His memory is gone, there's no real way to recover it so in a way his son did die but Phil is bitter and possessive and he won't lose him twice so he keeps him anyway.

Maybe he decides that Tech is still Tech and clearly some of his personality has stayed so there's totally a way he can just rebuild him into who he used to be, or at least as close as he can get.

He tries to drag Techno away because he's very bitter about his son (who's been basically terrified of him) hugging some stranger meanwhile he literally mourned him for months.

Techno obviously doesn't take well to almost getting dragged away and says that if he really is Phils son and he's as indulgent as he says he is then he'll let him keep Wilbur.

Everyone is shocked by this and Wil is not happy with it but Techno still has that dark streak in him despite now also being skrunkly so he cuts off any argument and basically calls Phils bluff.

Phil tries talk Tech out of things but Technos obviously super adamant about keeping his new bestie so Phil just sighs and glares at Wil like the entire way back to the castle.

Maybe he also hoards Techno away too and says that since he's indulged him once today, Tech has to pay with nest time (something he's been avoiding a tonne) and its very dark and fluffy later.

I'm not sure where the AU goes after this but its probably a lot of family bonding where Wil is slowly assimilated against his will and Techno regains some part of him that was removed when he got his mind wiped.

There's probably some very sweet moments where Phil and Techno maybe share a piano and Tech slowly remembers the tune that they first did and obviously theres lots of bonding with Tommy where he asks Techno to 'put on a show' and swordfight for him and Tech slowly regains some muscle memory on that front.

[mara-xx217]

I'M ALIIIIVEEEE! And ready to ask for the good stuff.

Now, imagine survivor reader x Nemesis (I have been craving the stars big boy, and gender neutral if possible), he localize reader because a zombie was following them, hatch is open and reader try to "befriend" Nemesis, but they want something more than just their item.

aka TENTACLES, manhadling and if it can be reader getting fucked over a pallet *chef kiss*

More Nemmy YAY!!!~

Warnings: Gn!Reader, Slight Dubcon, Tentacles, Pants Ripping, Little Prep But It's Only Because He's Excited, Monster Dick, F U C K I N G, Massive Load

It's been an average match for you. Poor Jill and Chris got absolutely wrecked by Nemesis, but that was to be expected. You did try to help them out, but they just rebuffed your and Meg's help, knowing full well it was totally pointless. Meg tried anyways, and got clocked in the process, hooked in the basement with Jill and Chris, and all three of them got sacrificed together. Damn- Well, they did warn her not to...

A zombie had started to follow you as you were looking for hatch. This asshole- It was only a matter of time before Nemesis found you, and of course he did while you were in the main hall, slamming a pallet down on the zombie's knees in order to get him to stop following you around.

Oh shit...

"Heeey, big guy! Woah-! Wait! Look!" As he took three stomps in your direction, you dropped your tool box in between the two of you. The pallet was behind you, fitted in between the reception desk and some crates that none of you could open, for whatever reason. Nemesis looked at you, or you think he was. His face didn't emote and you couldn't even make out his eyes. Was he considering it? He closed the distance in between the two of you, which made your heart leap up into your throat, but his steps almost seemed lighter in a way and less like he was about to stomp your shit in.

"Uh- Wow, I keep forgetting how big you are. Hehe- So, are we good? Do you- Uh- want the p-pallet...?" Your voice trembled slightly as he towered over you, cocking his head to the side slowly as his hand twitched. If you're gonna down me, please don't punch me in the face... You screwed your eyes shut, squeaking as he raised his hand, but to your surprise-

"U-UUUGH-?! What the-?!"

You laughed nervously as Nemesis's tentacle slid against your cheek, as though it were a tongue tasting you. It was slimy and hot, but it didn't hurt at all, not like how it did whenever he'd whip you or the other's with it. It felt... W-Well... You squirmed and squawked as it slithered under the collar of your shirt, flicking around your shoulder and inching its way down your collar bone and your sternum.

"W-Woah-! WOAH-! W-What are- Hahahaha- What are y-you doing there...? E-EUUUEEEGH-!?~ HURK-!"

Saliva caught in your throat as Nemesis grabbed you by the top of your head like you were some kind of ball, with little to no weight behind you whatsoever. You could barely hear yourself under the pounding of your heart under his massive, broad fingertips, your pulse bouncing off your skull and almost producing an echo in your head, which would make sense as only some kind of dumbass with no brain would have allowed themselves to get into this situation in the first place.

"W-WARRGH-! C-C'mon, man! D-Don't with the- the hands-! ARE YOU GONNA CRUSH MY SKULL?! J-JUST CHILL-!!!" You yelped as you were roughly manhandled. Was he getting pissed? Maybe frustrated was a better way to describe it. You could hear Nemesis growling and grumbling under his breath, snarling as he wrestled you around. The tentacle was squirming underneath your clothing, making you ticklish and feel- Oh GOD why does it feel kind of good?! You began to hyperventilate, breaking out into hysterical squeals of laughter as the seat of your pants was grabbed and pulled on, hard.

RIIIIIIP!!!

W-What the FUCK was even happening?!

The wind was knocked out of you as you were slammed gut down onto the pallet. You couldn't believe that it held your dead weight, always noticing how flimsy they felt whenever you slammed them down in the middle of a chase. Nemesis's tentacle slid down your torso, meeting some resistance as it pressed against your tightly squeezed thighs.

"H-HA-! AHHH-?!~ W-WHAT THE- DON'T-! E-EEEUUUGHH-?!~"

An undignified, ugly sound escaped the back of your throat. It felt like a damn scale-less snake trying to burrow itself in between your legs! You flailed and dug your palms into the pallet's rough wooden edges, kicking your legs out in an attempt to squeeze out of Nemesis's tight grip around your waist and head.

Oh no- You aren't going anywhere, that's for certain. And it was only a matter of time before that tentacle of his slipped in between the valley of your thighs and attacked you in the most sensitive, personal places possible. Why is he even doing this?! Tears welled in your eyes as you tried to fight it off. It was ticklish and felt so damn wrong, yet you couldn't deny the heat that was blooming in your lower abdomen as your pants were ripped further and the slipper appendage managed to find purchase between your legs.

"O-OUUUUGH-!!! FUCK-!~"

It had absolutely no right to feel that damn good dragging against you. The tentacle squirmed, eventually thrusting back and forth against your sex as its tip prodded around for your entrance. Blood was diverted from your brain to your crotch, making your already confused and flustered brain even more addled. You couldn't stop shameless moans from leaving your mouth, so loud that they bounced off the main hall's walls and echoed in your ears. Your face twisted into horrified delight as your hole was tickled by Nemesis's thick tendril.

Oh no-

No, no-

M-May-be...

"G-GUUU- HUUUUH-!!!~ Y-YAAAAHH-!!!~"

Your body bent like an accordion as Nemesis's tentacle plunged inside of you. O-OWWW!!! FUCK-! IT HURTS-!!! ...but it didn't stop you from keening as your toes curled in delight. You were slipping up and down the slanted pallet, body shifting forwards from the force of the tendril fucking your body. N-No-! No! It's too big! You're gonna fucking break-! You shook your head and cried out, groaning deeply as your back arched and hips bucked against his tentacle. Your vision went blurry and your eyes rolled back into your head while your body trembled and shook violently.

"H-HNNNGH-!!!~ C-CUMMING-!!!~ W-WHA-?! NOOO-! WHY'DYA-?!" Just as your high crashed over you, Nemesis pulled his tendril out of your body, though not completely away from you. The thick, mucous-like substance that coated the appendage kept it practically glued to your body, which both disgusted you and made you shudder in delight. The disappointment you felt suddenly tightened into aroused terror as something immensely thick and hot prodded your leaking hole.

Oh FUCK-

"-on't fit- F-FUUUUCK-!!!~ I-I-It won't f-fuuuucking F-FIIIIT!!!~" You cried between gasps. Your orgasm seemed to increase in intensity the more Nemesis pressed into you. You couldn't see it, but his dick was somehow even more monstrous than the rest of his body.

It was almost as thick as your wrist and nearly as long as your forearm, with a spiny ridge that ran along the top of his length that started right where his glans met his shaft. Thick veins bulged under the thin skin of his cock, throbbing as you tried to squirm away from him before he totally destroyed your insides.

"H-HUU-!!! PLEASE! W-WON'T-!!! FUCK, B-BE GENTLE-!!!"

Something definitely broke when you were suddenly pulled down onto his cock. Nemesis was met with significant resistance when trying to push into you. Your body wasn't an unyielding obstacle though, buckling and tearing at the seams as enough pressure and force was applied against you.

You did scream, or you at least think you did. The sound of Nemesis grunting and snarling in combination with the pallet violently slamming against the desk and crates managed to drown out your rising voice.

FUCK-! HE WAS TEARING YOU APART-!!!"

You wanted to beg for him to slow down but you couldn't get anything out that wasn't a scream or a gasp for air. There wasn't any part of you that was ready to take on such a massive dick, but the fact you hadn't passed out yet was almost impressive. ...or it would have been if you were able to think about anything other than the cock that was leaving a clearly defined bulge in your lower abdomen every time Nemesis pounded into you. You couldn't even see it, but you didn't need to in order to know that the bioweapon was going to mold your insides to the shape of his dick by the time he was through with you...

God... How were you even alive still? Your brain and insides were mush from the force that Nemesis put behind his thrusts. Orgasm after orgasm was forced out of your body, in spite of the fact that you felt as much pain as you did pleasure. The bioweapon leaned over you, almost crushing you with his weight as he rocked into your body. Every bit of air in your lungs was squeezed out of you, and you could only gasp and flounder like a fish out of water as his movements became erratic and his cock began to swell and throb.

"H-HUUU-!!! GUUUUHHH!!!~ C-CAAAAA-!!! M-MMPFFFHH-!!!~"

You gritted your teeth, saliva pooling out of the corner of your mouth as you felt something begin to squirm inside of you. W-What the FUCK-?!

Tentacles must have sprouted out of Nemesis's dick, tickling your inner walls and pushing you even wider, coaxing yet another orgasm out of you as a sudden flood of molten hot cum pumped you full.

You squeal, kicking your legs out as Nemesis pushes your head down. He's had a tight grip on you this entire time, but surprisingly it didn't exactly hurt. He growled and groaned into the back of your head, his hips jerking at irregular intervals as he continued to cum.

Fuck- H-He's not stopping...!

You were so bloated with cum that you couldn't even move, let alone get up off the pallet and look for the hatch. What was he going to do? Hook you? You honestly didn't care what he did at this point. Your brain was fried and you could only groan softly as you were picked up and stuffed under his arm like some kind of football.

"G-Guuuhhh... H-Huh-? W-Wha-?"

Falling feet first through the hatch genuinely shocked you, but what shocked you more was that you found yourself back at the survivor's camp with your clothes intact and no cum inflated belly to speak of. It was incredibly awkward for you to make eye contact with Jill, Chris and Meg, but they and everyone else were none the wiser to the shenanigans that you got up to alone in R.P.D..

At least... you hope that's the case...

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @cherrysodalite, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine, @memoryofheather @horny-3

[wishfuldivine]

PT. 3 of GhostSoapGaz, where Ghoap are always going on dates and keep bringing Gaz with them because they love him, but he doesn't know.

Gaz walked down the empty streets with his emotions in such a wreck. His mind was beyond a mush right now. Thoughts on an annoying limbo. The need to just get under his sheets in the comfort of his lonely room becoming a must.

His suppressed emotions were beginning to crack. The realization became clear when he witnessed the pure and genuine love between Soap and Ghost for the first time.

Soap had gotten a bullet near his shoulder which resulted in a bed rest for a couple of weeks. Ghost had been opposed on leaving the demolition sergeant by himself, always visiting. The softness and tender care in which Ghost assisted Soap with anything declared nothing but love. Soap soaking it all in with delight.

That's when he first cried in a very long time. Cried for being such an idiot and feeling like a complete asshole. As if he was breaking their trust without doing anything. He never should've fallen in love with them.

He was so lost in his own head that it took a moment to realize that his phone was vibrating in his jeans pocket. He paused on the sidewalk and took it out to see the incoming call. Soap. He sighed deeply, not knowing if he should answer it or ignore.

But ever the absolute sweetheart and caring man, he answered anyway. He didn't want for his fellow sergeant to worry for him despite the inner turmoil he's dealing with right at this moment.

"Garrick here."

"Gaz? Where did you go, lad? Everythin' okay?"

"I'm fine, mate. Just needed some air. It was very crowded there, yeah? I didn't want to be a pest with my claustrophobia, so I just came back to base."

'You're such a fucking liar.'

"Should've told me! Or Ghost! We would've canceled and gone back together. Your health over this. You know that."

He felt like crying again. The simple truth was that THEY would've done that. Being kind and understanding people even if different when on the line of battle, they definitely would've been so considerate of him. Their teammate. It elicited a small sliver of hope that it was because of love. Because they felt the same.

But alas, that was just wishful thinking. They were so in love with each other. And he was going to make sure to keep it that way.

God, why did he have to fall in love? With them no less? Sometimes, he wished they were annoying and simply cunts. It would've made everything so much better and not be in this predicament.

Such a fucking mess. Big mess.

"Nah, I'm okay. Thanks, though. You enjoy the rest of the night, mate. See you later." He hung up without letting Soap finish what he was saying. Or maybe he didn't bother to care.

He rubbed a hand over his face with another deep sigh. It felt like the one hundredth time of doing so. It was beginning to get tiresome.

'I can't fucking do this.'

He needed a break from all this. He fucking needed it so badly. With the sudden change of mind, his eyes roamed the area and landed on a pub a couple of blocks away. Maybe a few drinks will be good for him instead of drowning in the emptiness of his room and tormented heart.

Everything was hurting too much. And maybe, just maybe, drinking his sorrows away will do.