#do you think with everything ive said over the last few days that any of them realise that im having a TERRIBLE TIME RIGHT NOW???

[nomairuins]

bedtime nowww probably ummm today qas not what i wanted it 2 be but its fine. i dont feel negative just a very very very numb day which is almost worse. but only almost 🙏

[danielnelsen]

family is out having a nice dinner and trying to convince me to come but i have way too much to do before i have to get up at the crack of dawn to get on a plane tomorrow, so dad's like "the food will be so nice, you're really missing out" then gives the phone to my sister who's like "the food will be so nice, you're really missing out," like........what part of "i have too much to do" says i can be convinced as if im just lazily deciding to stay home? all you've done is made me feel bad on top of being stressed about everything i have to do and how im not gonna get to have nice food today. cool thanks

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (10/?)

Part Summary: “Leigh, are you jealous?” you ask, taking a deliberate step towards her. You hold her captive with your eyes, making it impossible for Leigh to look away.

“I’m with Danny.” Her voice cracks as she takes a step back.

“That’s not an answer,” you whisper softly, closing the distance between you again.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 6.200+ | Warnings: UST, fluff, very light angst | Author's note: I think the summary should tell you what to expect *winks*.

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX

-

Despite going to bed very late, getting up in the morning isn't hard for you. Though it’s mainly because you barely had any rest at all. The real reason you couldn't sleep wasn’t the couch’s fault—it was the soft, irregular snores drifting in from the bedroom and the new, quiet awareness of someone else in your apartment. Every so often, Leigh would make a sound or shift in her sleep, and you would clench your fist hard against the blanket, resisting the urge to go check on her. 

The stillness of the early dawn settles around you, and Leigh’s words come back to you like a quiet sail. “Do you know how intimate it is to sleep at someone’s house and not have sex?” she had said once, during one of your long, winding confrontations about Matt. It was a statement that had deeply affected you then, and even more so now, with her just a room away. You remember recoiling when she nearly spat the words at you. You wonder if Leigh also remembers, especially considering last night.

You rise from the couch before your alarm has a chance to ring, padding softly into the kitchen. 

Cooking breakfast has become a kind of ritual, an act of service between the two of you. Smiling at this thought, you crack eggs into a bowl, add milk and vanilla, and start whisking. You soak slices of bread in the mixture, heat up the pan, and place them down to cook. French toast is on the menu today, and you hope Leigh likes it.

You set the table quietly, arranging the plates and cutlery, pouring orange juice into glasses. As you lay down the last slice of French toast on the plates, you add a light dusting of powdered sugar and a few slices of fresh strawberries for a pop of color and sweetness. With everything prepared, you sit down at the dining table to wait for Leigh to wake up.

After a while you glance at the clock and see it's 6:30 AM. You need to be at the clinic in an hour. With a sigh, you cover Leigh's plate with a napkin to keep it warm and start eating alone, just as you've done since moving here.

Finishing your breakfast, you wash the dishes and put everything away, your movements mechanical. You know you should get in the shower soon, but everything you'll need to prepare is in the bedroom. Pushing the door open just a crack, you peek inside to see Leigh sleeping peacefully, her face so different from its usual, more troubled visage when awake. She’s lying on her back with her mouth slightly open. The sheets have slipped past her hips, and her shirt has ridden up, exposing her stomach to the cool air. You tiptoe into the room and carefully pull the covers back up over her, tucking them around her gently.

Afterward, you crouch by the bed for a minute, simply observing her steady breathing. You feel a surge of affection as you watch her, wondering if she feels safe here, with you. Her face, relaxed and unguarded, is the very same one that Matt woke up to every day of his life for the past decade until he left this world. You think to yourself what a privilege it was for him, to have shared so many mornings with her, to have been woven into her waking thoughts and dreams.

While you’re cautiously sweeping a few strands of hair from her face, Leigh’s lips suddenly move in her sleep. They part slightly as if she's talking, but no sound escapes. Her forehead creases into a frown—she's clearly dreaming. It's a serious, focused expression that makes her look like she’s deep in conversation with someone in her dream world, and you cover your mouth to stifle a giggle at the sight.

Realizing you've lingered longer than intended, you force yourself to stand. You quietly retrieve a towel and some clothes, deciding to take your shower in the living room bathroom. As you lather soap over your torso, the image of Leigh’s exposed skin haunts your thoughts—the small, soft patch of her stomach you saw earlier. Your fingers inadvertently brush over your own nipples, and you can't help but compare the sensation to what touching Leigh's skin might feel like, if the rest of her body feels just as smooth and supple as it looks. The thought sends a shiver through you, goosebumps forming despite the warm water. Your fingers wander lower almost of their own accord. A gasp escapes your lips when the tip of your forefinger brushes against your clit, the touch sparking an unexpected surge of arousal. Shocked by your own reaction, you quickly turn the shower knob, the water temperature dropping to a chill that snaps you out of your fantasies.

Get a grip, you mutter to yourself, feeling a combination of embarrassment and frustration. Leigh is just in the next room, trusting you, and here you are getting carried away. Shivering a bit under the cold spray, you finish up quickly, wrap yourself in a towel, and get dressed. 

You take one last look at Leigh before you leave. She’s still sprawled out in the same comfy position, deep in sleep. Waking her doesn't feel right—not just to say a quick goodbye before you rush off to work. Instead, you jot down a note on a piece of your prescription pad. It’s a quick message letting her know breakfast is ready on the table, she should feel at home, and you’ve left an extra set of keys for her. You apologize for the early exit and sign your name with a flourish. You tuck the note under her plate of French toast, placing the keys beside it. Then, remembering the night might have left her with a bit of a hangover, you put a glass of water and an aspirin by her bed. You're trying to think of everything she might need to start her day off right.

“Bye, Leigh,” you whisper as you give the room one final glance. You step out into the morning, locking up but leaving a part of your mind behind, picturing her waking up comfortable and cared for. It’s ironic that just when you decided to keep your distance, you start running into situations that make you fall even harder for her. It's as if fate is constantly nudging you in her direction.

And frankly, you don't mind it at all.

-

Leigh stirs slightly, her eyes fluttering open to a room that isn't hers. For a brief, groggy moment, she thinks she’s in Danny’s bed, but the scent is all wrong. Where Danny’s sheets carried a distinct note of sandalwood, they smell of lavender and something more… feminine. The soft difference in fragrance tugs at the edges of her memory, pulling forward the events of the previous day.

She blinks slowly, her mind piecing together the snapshots: the sharp words exchanged with Danny that morning, the solo trip out on Halloween, finding herself unexpectedly in Matt’s favorite restaurant. That’s when you came into the picture, dressed up for a date that never showed, and Leigh stepped in. You both shared a beer on the hood of your car, surrounded by glimmering, dreamlike sights, but all she could focus on was how the streetlights played over your face, making you look almost magical as you laughed, a half-empty box of donuts on your lap. You looked so... pretty, she thinks, the image stubbornly etched in her mind.

The night didn’t end there. She took you to a party. It was loud, crowded, but when you danced, the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you. She remembers drawing you to the dance floor, guiding your hands to her hips as she swayed. She recalls gazing at your lips, wondering how they would feel against hers.

Leigh buries her face into your pillow, her cheeks burning as she reminisces how close you were, your lips barely an inch apart. She tries to laugh it off, but it’s hollow, and her face grows hotter as she recalls you pulling away, the almost-kiss dissolving into nothing. The last-second rejection stings, but what really makes her squirm is the heat flooding her body just from thinking about it. In an attempt to distract herself, Leigh snuggles deeper into your bed, but it backfires. One deep breath and she’s engulfed by the scent you left on the pillow. It feels as if you’re right there beside her, the illusion so convincing that it briefly soothes the ache of your actual absence. 

And it's in this moment, surrounded by traces of you, that Leigh finally allows herself to fully acknowledge the attraction she’s been trying to ignore. It's been a slow, maddening realization, an interest that has compounded until it could no longer be overlooked. It’s ridiculous, really, because it sort of feels like she’s proving Matt right, wanting you just like he did. She sits up, clutching the sheets close, her heart racing as she turns over everything in her mind. It feels contradictory yet somehow... inexorable, as if it were always meant to happen.

But Leigh pushes back against the idea that anything in her life is fated, especially when it comes to who she might fall for. She's always believed in steering her own ship, picking her paths, her battles, her loves. Not just going with the flow of something because it feels like the universe is pushing her that way. She wraps the sheets tighter around her, needing to feel safeguarded, needing to remind herself that she calls the shots. 

She climbs out of bed and starts pacing restlessly like a mad woman. Yes, there's something about you that pulls at her, but that doesn’t mean she has to lose herself to it. For all she knows, it’s just a silly crush, perhaps amplified by the thought that you might have liked her first. It's probably just that—reciprocal attraction—nothing more.

A sudden noise from the living room jerks Leigh out of her tumultuous thoughts, and she frantically whips her head towards the door. It’s been so loud inside her head, that she hasn’t even considered the possibility that you might be out there—in your own apartment. Leigh stops pacing and strains to hear more. 

There’s another sound. Thud. Thud.

With a shaky breath, she calls out, “Y/N?” 

When no answer comes, Leigh edges out of the bedroom tentatively, as if stepping into her own trial. Her nerves are strung tight with anticipation of confronting you, the newly-minted object of her affection. However, as she rounds the corner, she finds only an empty living room. The quiet is almost startling. Another thud makes her jump—a dull, persistent noise. Turning towards it, she sees only pigeons at the living room window, poking their beaks against the glass, and Leigh exhales a long sigh of relief.

Intrigued, Leigh approaches the window to observe the pigeons. They remain undisturbed as she draws closer, diligently pecking at seeds scattered on the windowsill. So, you’ve been feeding them. It’s a small, charming detail about you that she hadn’t known, and it warms her heart to see this caring, tender side of you. Much like the way you took care of her last night, she feels like one of those pigeons.

Leigh leans against the wall next to the window, watching the pigeons bob their heads and shuffle around. Her eyes then drift to the dining table and land on a plate, invitingly covered, with a piece of paper peeking out beneath it. She walks over and lifts the cover to reveal a hearty serving of French toast, artfully arranged and topped with a sprinkle of powdered sugar and fresh strawberries.

The sight of the breakfast makes her mouth water, and without thinking, she reaches out with her hands and takes a bite. It's still slightly warm, a sign that you haven't been gone long. Comforted by this thought, she pulls out a dining chair and settles in, making herself comfortable. Then, picking up the note, she unfolds it to read while she enjoys her breakfast.

Hope you enjoy the French toast. I had to head out early, but I wanted to make sure you had a warm start to your day. Please make yourself at home, help yourself to anything you need, and here’s some extra keys to the apartment just in case. Sorry to miss saying goodbye this morning. I hope we can catch up later when I'm back - Y/N

Leigh bites her lip, staring down at the note and the keys beside it. It feels so... domestic. Almost too familiar, but too quickly. She can't help but recall the countless times she left similar notes for Matt, scribbled in haste before dashing off to her early morning classes at the Beautiful Beast. Her trips to Danny's apartment never felt quite like this. It had always felt more like a love nest, designed for pleasure, not partnership. It was somewhere to escape to, not a space she could ever see herself belonging in, being her own. But here, with these keys in front of her, it's different. This feels like stepping back into an old pair of shoes that doesn't quite fit the same way anymore.

Leigh hesitates, unsure if this is a good thing. If you are a good thing. With Danny, everything was safe, predictable. He wants her more than she wants him, and in a twisted way, that imbalance has become an assurance. It’s easier, requiring less vulnerability on her part. But with you, the balance feels equal, perhaps even tipping in a way that makes Leigh unsure of where she stands, unsure of her control over the situation.

That terrifies her. And she hasn't felt this scared since Matt left.

As if on cue, a loud ringing blares through the apartment. Leigh blinks, pulled abruptly back to the present, and realizes she has no idea where she left her phone. She scrambles to her feet, her search for the phone turning into a clumsy dance as she trips over herself in the process. After a brief, frantic search that feels longer than it probably is, she traces her steps back to your bedroom. There, beside the bed where she'd woken up, her phone is vibrating against the hardwood floor. The screen lights up with the name “Jules”. Leigh swipes to answer, holding the phone a bit shakily to her ear.

“Danny’s here.”

Shit, shit shit.

“Just get rid of him, Jules. I'll call him later,” Leigh says. 

There's a brief pause on the other end of the line, and then—

“Where are you, anyway?” Jules asks.

Leigh glances around, fiddling with the phone in her hand before answering, “I’m at a friend’s place.”

“Oh,” Jules lets out a low whistle. “Anyone I know?”

Leigh takes a deep breath. “Y/N.”

Jules falls silent, her breath the only sound coming through the phone. Leigh can almost visualize her sister on the other end, puzzling over why Leigh spent the night at your apartment and wondering if something happened between you two. She anticipates the barrage of questions that will greet her when she gets home.

“Leigh, I—” Jules starts to say.

“Don't. I'm leaving soon. Please make sure Danny's not there when I arrive. Please,” Leigh says. 

“Okay,” Jules says simply, and then the line goes dead.

Leigh leaves the keys where you left them and takes your note with her.

-

As the day wears on, your phone remains dishearteningly quiet. You keep checking, hoping for a simple message from Leigh—a thank you for the bed, a comment on the breakfast, or just a note to say she’s left your apartment. But nothing comes through. Each passing hour stretches your patience thinner and makes you question every detail of last night. 

Her lack of reaction leaves you with too much time to think. After the debacle with Sara and the no-show date you met from a dating app, you had felt a surge of disillusionment. So much so that last night, after Leigh left your car and walked into the party, you found yourself uninstalling the dating app from your phone in a moment of clarity. You decide it's time to focus on what feels more real, on what your heart has been screaming all along.

Leigh. 

You want Leigh, and you’re going to go after her. Forget about Danny. You won't let Leigh spend another Halloween alone, or Christmas, or New Year’s. You're resolved to be there for all the important dates—and, if you're lucky, every day in between.

Hey Leigh, just checking in to see how you’re doing. Hope your day was good, you type and hit send. You won’t wait anymore for her to reach out when you can just let her know you’ve been thinking of her. You toss your phone down and rub your hands on your face. Now it’s just a matter of waiting to see if she feels the same.

-

Leigh postpones meeting with Danny until later that evening, having spent the day lounging in bed and replaying the songs you had on in your car the previous night. She received your text, but she hasn’t even opened it yet. It's silly, but she feels that if she starts talking to you, a dam will burst—and she's not ready for that. Instead, she reaches out to Danny, asking him over so they can talk.

When Danny arrives, she doesn't invite him inside. Since Jules and her mom are home, they walk to the front steps and sit side by side, maintaining a slight distance between them.

It’s Danny who breaks the silence first. “Leigh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you so hard. Look, I just think it's a great opportunity for us—or for me, at least. And since you’re not tied down to the Beautiful Beast anymore, and your writing and part-time job are flexible, I thought... Why not?”

Leigh's expression hardens at the mention of her old job, at Danny's reasoning, and his diligent insistence. She didn’t call him over to rehash the fight they just had yesterday.

“Just because I can work from anywhere doesn't mean I want to leave,” she says. “And if we're going to have the same argument again, then you should just go.”

When Danny told Leigh he had landed a job as a retail associate at a high-end hotel in Vegas, he expected she’d be happy for him. She was, but when he suggested they move there for a fresh start, her response was an unflinching no, leaving him feeling wounded.

“But what's really keeping you here, Leigh? I mean, besides your family. Is there something else?” he asks.

At the question, Leigh feels the past and present colliding. First, she sees Matt's face, always Matt's face—his smile, the comfort of his presence that used to fill her days. Then her mind flickers to the times she found herself passing your clinic after long, aimless drives meant to clear her head. Your face starts to overlap with her memories of Matt, not replacing but somehow intertwining. 

“Matt,” Leigh forces herself to say, forces herself to believe. “If I leave this place, it's like... it's like I'm leaving him for good. I know it sounds crazy, but that’s how it feels.”

“Matt's been gone for a long time. You think he'd want you to just stop living your life? Waiting for what? For a ghost?” Danny argues, his voice rising just a little. He looks away, down the shadowy street. His hands ball into fists and then relax. Under the weak glow of the streetlamp, it’s as if Matt’s shadow stretches beside him, a long, imposing figure that Danny can never seem to escape.

“Leigh, I’m just trying to help us move forward, that’s all,” he continues, softer, more defeated. Leigh catches the tightness of his expression, the effort it takes him to stay calm. She reaches out, her fingertips lightly touching his knuckles. Danny grabs this small sign of affection, quickly cradling Leigh’s face in his hands and drawing her into a fervent kiss. Leigh doesn’t respond immediately, but then she melts into its familiarity, allowing her lips to be pliable to his. 

Danny breaks the kiss, his breath ragged as he searches Leigh's eyes. “Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to leave Matt for good,” he whispers.

She shakes her head, her voice trembling. “I-I don't know, Danny—”

“Leigh, I love you.”

It's the first time either of them has said it. Leigh had imagined fireworks or something clicking into place when it happened. She expected the grand declaration to sweep her off her feet, but instead, she finds herself still teetering on the brink, not quite ready to leap. But what she cannot ignore is the sincerity in his words. Danny has loved her through her worst—in his own way. It's not easy to dismiss or reject such devotion.

“You don’t have to say it back,” Danny says quickly. He's afraid of hearing her say no again. Silence would be better; he could let himself believe that maybe she felt the same way. Silence could mean ‘yes’, right? he thinks, grasping at straws.

“Leigh, I’m taking that job, and I’m leaving after Thanksgiving. That gives us about a month,” he says, cradling her face now with both hands pleadingly. “Please, just think about it. Think about coming with me.”

Despite her reservations, Leigh ends up saying, “Okay, I'll think about it.”

Danny’s face breaks into a smile. He kisses her again, a soft, reaffirming kiss that seems to thank her for even considering his request.

The next second, Jules interrupts the moment, opening the door unceremoniously. Leigh throws her a sharp look, which her sister disregards with a shrug. 

“Logan's been barking at the door for some time now, in case you didn't hear,” Jules drawls, cradling a bowl of cereal—her dinner.

At her words, Logan bursts through the opening and makes a beeline for Leigh. He leaps straight into Leigh's lap, settling in with a decisive huff, his eyes darting possessively from Leigh to Danny. It's as if he's laying claim to her, telling Danny without words that Leigh has roots here too deep to simply pull up, saying, she’s mine, you’re not going to take her away from me. 

Leigh pulls Logan closer, thinking about how much you’ll miss him if she decides to go with Danny.

-

You get home from work just after nine, tossing your keys on the kitchen counter with a weary sigh. A quick check of your phone confirms what you'd been dreading all day: Leigh still hasn't read your message from the afternoon. That sinking feeling of disappointment hits you again—harder this time. It’s like a pattern with her: warm and engaging one day, distant and cold the next. You can't deny that this inconsistency is starting to wear on you. It's bordering on cruel.

What are you doing wrong? Why can’t you figure out what makes her switch off like this? 

And then, unable to help it, you send another text.

[9:10 PM] You: Is everything okay?

Dinner is a microwave affair tonight, not that you're really tasting any of it. You sit down to eat, your phone still within sight. That message never gets read either.

-

Leigh has always been unpredictable, but she has never actively avoided you like this before. She knows what she's doing, leaving your messages unread for the past three days. Just when you declare to the universe that you'd pursue her, she shuts you out completely. You can't even feel sorry for yourself; somehow, you brought this on, right?

When the day rolls around for Logan's next vaccine appointment, you catch yourself nervously checking the time more often than usual. But when the appointment time comes, a different Shaw brings him in. Jules holds onto Logan's leash as he excitedly sniffs every corner of the waiting room, his tail wagging a mile a minute. 

“Hey,” Jules greets you, a bit out of breath from handling Logan's forceful tugs. “Leigh had some things to take care of, so I'm on Logan duty today.”

“Of course, no problem at all. How’s he been?” You try to keep your tone light as you kneel down to give Logan some attention, scratching behind his ears the way you know he likes.

“He’s been great, a real bundle of energy,” Jules replies, watching you with Logan. She hesitates before adding, “And Leigh’s been... well, you know Leigh.”

Actually, you think, you don't know Leigh—not as well as you thought. “Yeah,” you respond, looking up at Jules with a forced smile. “I know.”

After you administer the vaccine, the appointment passes with small talk, mostly about Logan’s antics and not much else. Jules is friendly but doesn’t venture into whatever might be happening with Leigh.

Just as you’re seeing Jules off, the clinic door swings open again. And you’re completely unprepared for the person who steps in.

“Hi,” Sara smiles at you, and then lifts the kitten in her hands. “Think you can help me with her, doctor?”

In a moment of unpreparedness, you cough awkwardly to cover your reaction, a flush creeping up your cheeks. “Hi, Sara,” you say, a bit flustered as you usher her inside. “What do we have here?”

“It's a rescue. Found her all alone by the roadside,” Sara explains, handing the tiny kitten to you with a concerned frown.

Jules catches the interaction, her eyes narrowing slightly—not missing how your entire demeanor changes around Sara—who is undeniably beautiful. 

“Right this way,” you tell the blonde, leading her to the examination table. “Let's see what we can do for her.”

As soon as you and Sara are out of earshot, Suzie muses aloud, “They'd make a lovely pair, don't you think? If only Y/N wasn't so hung up on a widow…”

Jules stiffens slightly, her voice cool as she says, “And you are?”

“Suzie,” Suzie responds cheerfully, extending a hand to Jules with a bright smile. “Y/N’s assistant and friend. Nice to meet you.”

Jules shakes her hand, her smile polite but reserved. “Jules,” she responds tersely, omitting her connection as Leigh's sister. “So, what about Sara and Y/N?”

Well, Suzie can’t resist a juicy bit of gossip now, can she?

-

You don't usually pour yourself a glass of wine on a weeknight, but after today, you've cracked open a bottle that's been gathering dust for a year. Sara’s surprise visit at the clinic left you rattled. She had called you out for being distant after the two of you ran into Leigh one morning, and it embarrassed you how right she was. You hadn't been upfront about your emotional availability—or lack thereof—because of your feelings for Leigh.

When you finally admitted to Sara that you were in love with someone else, you braced for a fallout. But instead, Sara laughed, a light, carefree sound that took you by surprise. “I don't mind if you're emotionally unavailable,” she had said with a shrug. “I'm just looking for something casual.”

For a split second, her proposition—friends with benefits—was like candy being dangled in front of you: appetizing and readily available. But that conversation was at work, in the middle of your clinic, and the timing felt all sorts of wrong. 

You let the moment pass without responding, and Sara backtracked a little with a noncommittal, “Well, you have my number. I really like you, Y/N. We can be friends, and if you ever need to…unwind, well, I can be your best friend.”

You're midway through your glass of wine when you decide to check your phone again, automatically opening the chat window with Leigh. It's almost become a habit, expecting your messages to remain unread. But this time, Leigh's avatar is right there under the last text you sent. She's read them. Today. 

Why now?

Before you can dedicate the rest of your evening into that question, a knock on your door pulls you from your thoughts. It's late, and you don’t remember ordering food delivery. You set your glass down and head over to see who it is. 

Upon opening the door, you're greeted by a downcast brunette. She looks nervous, clutching her purse as if it were a lifeline.

“Leigh?”

“Hi,” she says, lifting her eyes to meet yours, searching your face for a reaction. As confused as you are, your heart kicks up a notch simply because she’s there, so close you could reach out and touch her. For a moment, you wonder if you're dreaming, if the alcohol is taking effect and conjuring up your desires right before you.

You notice the slight tremor in her hands, the way she’s standing—a bit too rigid, like she’s bracing for something tough.

Clearing your throat, you start to ask, “Would you like to come—”

“Is she here?” Leigh interrupts abruptly.

You blink in surprise.

“Who?”

“Sara,” Leigh replies, her chin jutting forward. She attempts to peer past you, as if she might find the answer somewhere inside your apartment. 

“No, she's not,” you say slowly, puzzled and a bit annoyed by her tone. “Why would she be?” 

You can't hide your surprise at her directness, or the discomfort it stirs in you. It's a bit ridiculous, even rude, how Leigh has been avoiding you, leaving your messages unread, and now she's here, asking you about another girl without a preamble. Leigh doesn't wait for an invitation; she brushes past you and steps further into your apartment, her eyes searching every corner of the room.

“I thought you said it didn't work out with Sara,” she says, almost accusingly, turning to face you again. The way she's acting—like she has any right to demand answers about your personal life after days of silence—is starting to grate on your nerves. 

You press your lips together, taking a deep breath to quell your rising irritation.

“It didn’t. She brought a kitten to the clinic today, that’s all. We're not seeing each other, Leigh,” you tell her. Although she did tell me she’s interested in sleeping with me, you nearly say aloud.

Leigh’s mouth twists into a sneer. “Then why did Jules…” she trails off, her expression falling as it finally clicks.

Jules lied to her.

“Jules…?” you echo incredulously. “What did she tell you?”

Leigh's confidence wavers even further as she says, “She... she said she met Sara at your clinic. Called her your girlfriend.”

You shake your head, exasperation seeping through your features. “Sara is not my girlfriend,” you repeat firmly. The situation is quickly becoming absurd, and you decide to push a bit, to get to the heart of what's really bothering her. “But what does it matter to you if she was?”

“It doesn’t,” Leigh replies in a flat, unconvincing tone.

“Then what are you doing here?” you ask gently, as if addressing a child mid-tantrum. 

Leigh doesn't answer right away, her cheeks glowing red as she looks anywhere but you. She's clearly embarrassed by the entire ordeal, and you find yourself struggling not to smile at the implications of her visit. She's bothered by the idea of you with Sara because—

“Leigh, are you jealous?” you ask, taking a deliberate step towards her. You hold her captive with your eyes, making it impossible for Leigh to look away.

“I’m with Danny.” Her voice cracks as she takes a step back.

“That’s not an answer,” you whisper softly, closing the distance between you once more.

“No, I... maybe. I don't know,” she stammers, then sighs deeply, her shoulders slumping as she finally meets your gaze. “Yes, I guess I am. I don't like thinking of you with someone else. Is that answer enough?”

As you take another step forward, Leigh instinctively moves back, and this dance continues until she finds herself against a wall. You're close now, close enough to feel the tension radiating from her. Her back is pressed against the concrete, your body just inches from hers, effectively trapping her in the corner. 

Leigh doesn’t know at which point she’s closed her eyes. Was it when she felt your breath whisper across her upper lip as you sighed, clearly as affected by the proximity as she was? Or was it when her back met the cool wall, the hard reality telling her she had nowhere else to go? Perhaps it was simply the anticipation, the tightening expectation of your lips meeting hers, the thought of surrendering to this—whatever this is becoming between you.

But then, two seconds pass. Five. Ten. Nothing happens.

The anticipated kiss doesn’t come. 

When she finally opens her eyes, the question in yours is unmistakable. You’re near enough, she could just lean in, but you’re giving her a choice, asking without words if this is what she wants. And that’s when she remembers how she ended up at your doorstep. Leigh's mind reels, darting back to Jules' little lie. She's struck by the realization that Jules probably felt compelled to lie because Leigh had been inadvertently pushing you away, leaving a door open for someone else to step in. And if she keeps this up, it might be Sara who ends up here, against your wall, in your arms. The image stabs at her heart, jealousy tightening her chest.

No, she can’t let that happen.

Summoning a courage she didn’t know she had left, Leigh reaches out and gently takes your hand. She brings it to her face, pressing her lips against your palm in a kiss so tender it steals your breath. It’s a silent plea. A tender claim.

It's just a small kiss, simple and soft, but it rushes through you like wildfire, stirring feelings deeper and more intense than any long, drawn-out foreplay ever did. You realize just how much you've been holding back, shielding yourself from potential pain. But now, as Leigh's kiss sears into your palm, all those defenses seem pointless. With a fervor driven by weeks of restrainment, you close the distance entirely. 

Your kiss lands on Leigh's lips with everything you have, as if this moment, this single kiss, might be your only chance. Yet, even in your urgency, there's a tenderness, a reverence in the way your lips carefully slot between hers. As you kiss, there's a meticulous attention to the details—the softness of her lips, the way they fit perfectly against yours, the gentle give when you press a little harder. It’s as if you’re trying to memorize her through this kiss.

Leigh matches your ardor, her fingers weaving into your hair, tugging you closer as if she can't get enough. You react instinctively, your hands sliding from her hips to her waist, lifting her shirt just enough to feel her skin beneath your fingertips. The slight pressure of your nails makes Leigh gasp, a sound that breaks the seal of your lips just enough for you to deepen the kiss, slipping your tongue past her defenses. The act draws a guttural moan from her—a sound that vibrates through your core, sending ripples of desire pulsating through your body. 

It shouldn’t be this perfect the first time, but it is.

The kiss grows wetter, more urgent. It's selfish, a relentless chase of sensation where both of you are simultaneously taking and giving everything you have, until it feels like there's nothing left to offer. While Leigh’s tongue explores every inch of your mouth, her hands find their way to either side of your neck, fingertips lightly grazing your skin, sending tingles straight down your spine. Your own hands aren't idle. They roam up her back, feeling the smooth expanse of her skin under your fingertips. As you slide your hands upward, you discover something that emits a low groan from you—she’s not wearing a bra. A part of you, the rational part that's still functioning, slowly begins to recognize the gravity of what’s unfolding. It's too easy to get lost in Leigh, in the rush and the heat, but something stops you. You want this—more than anything in the moment—but it has to mean something. Because once you cross this line with Leigh, there's no going back to the uninhibited, distant longing you've managed until now. 

Just as the thought crystallizes, Leigh breaks the kiss with a wet pop. Her eyes flutter open, slowly, lazily. Her gaze is unfocused at first, pupils dilated, the vibrant green of her irises almost swallowed by the black. Oh, she definitely wants you too.

“Why did you stop?” you murmur, your voice unmistakably laden with desire as you rest your forehead against hers.

A grin tugs at Leigh’s lips as replies softly, “I just wanted to see you.”

Your smile widens as her fingers absentmindedly play with the little hairs at the nape of your neck. She seems mesmerized by your eyes, now darkened with lust, and without thinking, she blurts out, “You really do have espresso eyes.”

Her words make you freeze in her arms. That nickname—it's the same one you use anonymously for your submissions to your favorite advice column. Maybe it's just a coincidence, right? 

But Leigh's reaction a moment later suggests otherwise. Her face blanches, eyes widening in a sudden flare of panic as she realizes what she's just said. 

“Y/N—” Leigh starts but you cut her off by stepping out of her embrace, your stance becoming guarded.

The warmth vanishes from your eyes. “What did you just say?”

[dreamescapeswriting]

BTS Reaction || He Thinks You’re Cheating [Mafia Edition]

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - May 2023

⤜MASTERLIST

SEOKJIN:

It had been bothering Jin for a while now and he'd finally had enough of your sneaking around and decided to do something about it. Usually, if he wanted someone to watch you he'd send one of his men but it appeared you'd managed to bribe them into lying for you and it was starting to get on Jin's last nerve. If you were cheating he wanted you to tell him or for him to catch you in the act, it was going to be the only way any of this came to light.

"Checking in?" A voice asked from behind the front desk of the hotel, Jin's eyes snapped over to the small man and Jin quickly shook his head as he watched you climbing into an elevator taking note of the pushing you pressed before he clambered into the second one.

"Yn! It's lovely to see you!" A man called out when Jin got off the second elevator a mere two seconds after yours had arrived and he watched you closely, his eyes glued to you as you walked into the arms of an elderly man. This was who you were sneaking off to go and meet all of the time? 

"It's lovely to see you too," You giggled holding up a small basket that you'd been carrying since that morning. When Jin had seen it in the kitchen he had originally thought it was for you and him to share, something you used to do together but now it seemed those times were few and far between.

"You bought more snacks? I say Alex is going to fall deeper in love with you," The elder began to chuckle as he walked with you into a venue room, Jin's steps following close behind as he watched you walk into the room with a giant smile on your face. Who was Alex? And why were you bringing him treats and not your boyfriend? 

"I'm sorry sir, you need to sign in before you come into the visitor's lounge." As soon as the voice sounded from behind Jin he knew he'd fucked up, you and the elderly man turned to see who was coming and your eyes widened just a fraction to see your boyfriend standing there.

"Jin? What are you doing here?" Your voice cracked out of panic, the last thing you wanted was for Jin to follow you here on your last day.

"I came to see what you were doing...Who's Alex? Is he your new boyfriend?" You could already see the hurt on Jin's face and you felt your heart crack just a little. It didn't seem to bother you that he'd just accused you of cheating, you knew he had his trust issues and for the last four years of your relationship, he had done everything to work on them...You could see why he would think you're cheating.

"No," You giggled a little slowly, taking his hand into yours and pulling him toward Alex who was sitting in the corner of the room hooked up to an IV drip as well as a heart monitor.

"He's on his last day of treatment...Like me," You said slowly before looking up at Jin. The two of you were close and practically told each other everything and anything but your being sick was something you had hidden from him to try and lessen his stress load.

"Like you?" His eyes found yours and you smiled a little, you knew it was going to be hard to hide it now he was here. You'd had a small infection in your kidney that was refusing to go away with simple at-home antibiotics and you'd had to seek treatment through a doctor who set up at a small hospital for those who couldn't make it all the way to the hospital once a week.

"I'm fine, it's nothing to worry about." Trying to put his mind at ease as it was nothing for him to worry about, something that was now on the mend and you had a handle on.

"Nothing to worry about? You're sneaking off to some hotel to get a treatment!" His voice raised and you got a few looks from those around you so you were quick to take him out of the room and stood in front of the elevators together.

"Jin, I had a small sickness but I'm better now. After today's last antibiotic session I'll be fine," You promised him as he shook his head at you. He was more concerned with the fact that you'd hidden something so big from him,

"Why didn't you come to me? I could have taken you to a fancy hospital, you would have gotten the best treatment ever." 

"I got that here. Baby, you were stressed enough with the meeting with the yakuza next week. You'd been planning for months, I wasn't going to be the one to ruin that." Jin shook his head at you, pulling you into his arms and letting out a small sigh, the last thing he wanted was for you to hide something like this from him.

"I'm your boyfriend, you're supposed to come to me when you're sick...Please," He pleaded with you before you nodded, quickly kissing him on the lips and smiling as you felt him relax in your arms.

"I promise if I get sick again I will come to you," You ran your hand over his cheek and he smiled weakly, cuddling into your touch as you stood together for a while.

YOONGI:

Things had gone unnoticed for a while, you'd managed to get in and out of the grasp of your security guard so that you were able to go to the hospital without Yoongi finding out. It wasn't that you didn't want him to know you were sick it was just that he tended to freak out a little whenever you had a cold, so telling him you were seeking treatment at a hospital was a huge "no" for you. Besides, it was only a kidney infection that had required a closer look from doctors and you were hoping you were getting close to the end of your treatments as Yoongi was starting to get suspicious of you sneaking around.

"What did you get up to today?" Yoongi questioned at the dinner table, you were staring down at the food not daring to touch a single bite of it which was worrying for Yoongi. The treatment you were having caused you to lose your appetite so eating had become something you'd try to do but either ended up being sick or not being able to touch any of the food. But Yoongi had made your favourite - well, rather, he'd ordered someone to make it for you - he was attempting to make you feel guilty and to tell him the truth. Had you been sneaking around with another man and eating with him? Today he'd noticed you'd slipped the hands of your guard for the fourth time this month and it was starting to bug him.

"Hongjoong and I went shopping," The lie fell off your lips with ease and Yoongi slammed his hand onto the table making you jump ever so slightly.

"Where were you? Hongjoong told me he lost you when you went into the mall, don't lie to me." You could hear the frustration seeping from your boyfriend's lip and you sighed a little knowing it was time you told him the truth about everything.

"I'm sick." You admitted, your eyes not daring to look at him as you finally let the words fly out of your mouth. Maybe a part of the reason you hadn't told Yoongi was so that you could keep lying to yourself about it all. When the doctors first told you that you'd had a severe kidney infection you'd been stupid enough to think it was easy to beat but as it turned out you were wrong. You'd barely been able to move within the first month of having your infection, but as soon as you started treatment you were feeling better.

"Sick? How sick?" Yoongi had raised from his chair and was slowly making his way over to you, sitting in the chair beside you as you slowly looked up at him with tears running down your cheeks.

"My kidneys had shut down...T-They told me I could have died," The words came out in a choked sob toward the end but you were quickly wrapped in a tight embrace of your boyfriend's arms as you began to sob.

"Fuck, why didn't you tell me? I could have done something," He rubbed your lower back as you continued to cry into his chest finally letting everything you'd been holding back for months erupt out of you.

"Like what?"

"Steal you a kidney," He teased trying to make you laugh but you let out a small giggle before cuddling into him staining his shirt with your tears but it was the last thing Yoongi cared about right now.

"How long do you have left of treatment?" He quizzed, his eyes looking down at you as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

"One month. I have an appointment once a week." You told him as he nodded at you, smiling as he knew what he was going to do.

"I'll be there, at every appointment."

"You have a business to do-" Another reason you hadn't told him was because you knew just how busy he was with his day-to-day life and the last thing you wanted was to add to his stress levels. Yoongi stared at you as he cupped your chin between his thumb and finger and smiled,

"You're far more important to me than some stupid meetings I can simply rearrange." You practically melted into his hands and he smirked a little.

"Do you think you can eat a little? Or shall I pack it up and we can eat it tomorrow." You looked back down at the food and slowly picked up your fork, you could try and eat a little, causing Yoongi to smile proudly at the sight of you.

HOSEOK:

Hoseok had been so busy with work that he'd barely noticed your absence until one of his men brought it up in a meeting he was having. Your relationship with one another was still fairly new to his men and they had all been apprehensive around the two of you being together, some of them barely trusted you and had been wanting Hoseok to leave you alone.

"Yn has been sneaking off lately and it's worrying me. What if she's sneaking off to give information to other mafia men?" Chan said from the other side of the room, all eyes turning toward him as Hoseok slowly lowered the pen he was holding and waited for the man to continue.

"She's been slipping out of the guard's eye view and disappearing for hours on end. She's acting like someone with something to hide," Hoseok swallowed the lump in his throat and did something he was praying he wasn't going to regret later down the line and that was a lie for you.

"I know where she's going," He stared back down at the papers in front of him and hoped everyone in the room had believed what he was saying while he planned to come up with something to get answers out of you later in the night.

[x]

"Where were you today?" Hoseok asked when you walked into the bedroom or rather snuck in. You'd expected Hoseok to be sound asleep by now and you'd had to hold back a scream when he turned on the bedside lamp so he could stare at you.

"With some friends." You lie and he could tell it was a lie by the way your eye twitched ever so slightly and he shook his head at you. 

"Am I not good enough for you? Am I too busy?" The line of questioning made your stomach churn as you stared at him,

"Where did you meet him? Is he better than I am?" Within seconds you were by his side and holding his hand in your own. You'd been hiding the fact that you were sick so as to not worry Hoseok but it appeared you'd achieved the opposite of that.

"There's no one else Hoseok, it's only you. It will always be only you." You squeezed his hand but it seemed as though he still wasn't convinced and you sighed a little.

"I've been sick...It's nothing to worry about, I've got it under control." You told him but he was shaking his head at you. How could you be sick and not tell him?

"Did they find out what it is? Did you go to my doctor or to some loser who has no idea what he's doing?" Hoseok was convinced that everyone but his own doctor was incompetent which made it hard for you to find someone willing to take you on when they knew who you were dating.

"No, I found someone and she's incredible Hobi. I'm getting good treatment," You told him while trying your best to convince him of this, he was very weary of who he could and couldn't trust - and with good reason. He didn't get to be one of the biggest mafia families in the world just by trusting everyone who he came into contact with.

"What's wrong though?" He stared at you and you smiled a little, shaking your head. It was something so small you couldn't believe you'd had to go to the hospital for the treatment in the first place.

"It's nothing. Just a small chest infection that needed treatment at a hospital with some extra strong antibiotics on a drip...They work faster or something." You shrugged and Hoseok let out a small and relieved sigh when he realised it wasn't as bad as he was imagining.

"So you've been sneaking off to get antibiotics. You could have had them sent here and had the treatments done here," You smiled and cuddled into his side,

"I have a few more treatments left, I can ask if it's a possibility-"

"It will be." He growled a little, he was no longer going to let you sneak off for treatment, he wanted to be there for you.

NAMJOON:

"How was your day?" Namjoon questioned as he crawled into the bed behind you, it had been so long since the two of you had gotten to fall asleep like this and he had missed it. You cuddled into him and smiled tiredly, ever since starting your new medication you'd gotten more and more tired but you knew it was because they were starting to work.

"It was fine, Yoongi and I went for food today." As soon as the words came out you felt Namjoon tense up from behind you and he frowned at you. That morning you'd told him that you and your girlfriends were going for brunch, come to think of it. Lately, you'd been getting more and more inconsistent with what you were telling him you were doing and it was starting to scare him. Were you with another man? Maybe you were treading secrets with the police? 

"Yoongi? I thought you said the girls were going for brunch?" Your eyes shot open as you stared at the poster on the wall in front of you, trying to rack your brain with a lie you could tell him but it felt like everything had gone from your mind. Yoongi was the name of your doctor and you'd been so out of it from the medication you'd let the name slip without thinking clearly.

"You've been lying more and more to me," Namjoon stated plainly as he took his arms off you and moved away from you, refusing to hold you until he had some straight-forward answers out of you/

"Joonie-" You sat up in the bed and turned to face him but he was shaking his head at you.

"Don't, you don't get to lie to me and crawl into my arms like nothing fucking happened. Who is he? How did you meet him?" He raised his eyebrow at you as you looked down at your hands, you knew it was time to let the cat out of the bag but you'd been careful not to tell him for this reason. The last thing he needed in his life was a sick girlfriend,

"If you can't tell me I'll call someone to find out-"

"Yoongi is my doctor," You shot out before making yourself look at Namjoon whose frown had appeared to get deeper at the thought of it. 

"Doctor? Are you sick?" His hear began to pound against his chest at the thought of you being ill, how hadn't you told him about it until now?

"It's nothing, just a bug that I couldn't kick. I'd needed a few courses of antibiotics and some painkillers...S-Some tests," You explained hoping it would relax Namjoon but if anything it only made the panic inside of him worse.

"I never wanted you to think I was cheating, I just didn't want you to know I was sick." You explained before he pulled you into his arms, your head coming to rest on his chest as he shook his head at you.

"I want to know when you're sick...You're my wife, I'm meant to take care of you and look after you when you're sick...In sickness and in health." He reminded you as you whined a little cuddling into him as you nodded your head.

"You're a busy man."

"Not too busy to look after my wife." He shot back at you, shaking his head as he made a mental note to take the next week off from work so that he could go with you to your doctor's appointments and find out everything he could as to why you were sick so he could help prevent it in the future.

"Joonie, you're doing that plotting thing inside your head...What are you planning?"

"Do you think your treatments could be moved to home? That way I can watch over you within the safety of our own home. I can't believe you've been going out without protection." He scolded a little, making you giggle as you saw the protective side of your husband coming to the light.

JIMIN:

It had been weeks since Jimin had been able to take you out to dinner and he was more than excited to be able to show you off to his favourite restaurant owner tonight. You were excited too but for another reason, after five weeks of being treated for a sickness bug you'd finally gotten much better and you were able to enjoy food once again. Jimin held up his glass and you smirked holding up your own,

"To be finally able to take my girl out on a date," Jimin chuckled clinking the glasses together right as a couple walked past the table. Typically everyone who saw Jimin would ignore him and you because they liked to keep themselves very much alive but tonight it seemed different.

"Yn?" Your whole body felt as though it was numb at the sound of your doctor's voice, you could have sworn you were now sweating buckets and you turned to see him standing with his wife and smiling brightly at you. He was very new in town and he had no idea you were dating Jimin, it was one of the reasons that you had picked Dr Choi because you knew he wasn't going to be scared of treating you since he had no idea who Jimin was.

"Who are you?" Jimin's voice was cold as he stared at the man who was quick to send a smile his way and hold out his hand. When he saw the man coming up to you so friendly he instantly let his mind go to you cheating, he knew deep down that there was no way you would cheat on him but his mind still wanted him to think that way.

"Dr San Choi, it's lovely to meet you. Are you Miss YLN boyfriend?" If you weren't sweating before you were now as you saw his hand reaching for Jimin.

"I'm Park Jimin...THE Park Jimin," He spat out before nodding at two of his guards to come over to him but you were quick to your feet.

"Jimin, don't. He doesn't know you," You quickly defended the man, Jimin's hand raising to still his two men who were watching you inquisitively now while Dr Choi looked as though he was about to drop to the floor from shock.

"And how, my dear love, do you know him?" You could tell by the tone of his voice he was accusing you of something and you also knew you had no right to be angry with him since you had been the one sneaking around behind his back.

"He's my doctor. I've been sick and I knew if I went to someone you knew you'd find out and so I went to someone new."

"You've been treating her?" Jimin asked as he stared at Dr Choi who was quick to nod his head and whimper a little,

"How do I know he's even good enough? Did you look into his background? What if he was working with someone to kill you?" Your mouth ran dry at the line of questioning, it wasn't something you'd thought about until now and you bit down on your lip.

"My card is here, please...Feel free to run an intensive background check on me and I'll be more than willing to answer any questions you have." Dr Choi said as he finally found his voice and handed Jimin his card as you bit down on your lip a little.

"Thank you," Jimin said coldly before the man left leaving you alone to answer every question Jimin was going to have about you being sick.

TAEHYUNG:

"I can't just tell him," Your voice came out in a hushed whisper and Taehyung froze outside of the room you were in. He'd come to find you after you disappeared from the party he was throwing and he suddenly felt intrigued by your discussion. For the last couple of weeks, you'd been secretly taking calls and texting back and forth with someone, not to mention sneaking out every now and again. Telling Taehyung you were going to one place when secretly going to another and it was beginning to bug him. At first, he thought it was your way of getting some space but it was starting to get on his last nerve.

"You say it's easy but you have no idea what he's like. If he finds out, he'll kill Jungkook," You whispered making Taehyung's frown further deepen. Jungkook? 

"You're cheating on me?" He called out as he walked into the room, no longer caring that he was eavesdropping in your conversation he wanted a straight answer out of you.

"I'll call you back," You hung up the phone and stared at Taehyung, there was a huge party full of people waiting for him and you weren't about to fight upstairs and have them overhear.

"Let's go back to the party, everyone will be wondering where you are." You tried to suggest but he stood firmly in place, folding his arms over his chest as he waited for you to tell him the truth.

"So who's Jungkook? Are you fucking him instead of me?" It had been weeks since the two of you had been intimate, had this Jungkook been the reason why?

"What?! No! You think that little of me?" You scoffed staring at him, you knew why he must have felt that way but it still hurt.

"What else am I supposed to think? You're sneaking off all of the time and then I hear you talking about some other man?" It was obvious that there was going to be no other way out of this situation and you were going to have to come clean about it.

"Jungkook is a doctor." You explained hoping he would drop the matter but it appeared he was latching onto his cheating theory. 

"Brilliant, I hope you're very happy together then," Taehyung's words were spat out with venom and sarcasm making you sigh.

"I mean, he's MY doctor." Taehyung stared at you for a second and frowned,

"What would you need a doctor for? You have mine."

"And he would tell you if I went to him." Taehyung's mouth had run dry at the mere thought of you being sick and having to hide it from him.

"What?" He stared at you, his heart beginning to race rapidly against his chest. He'd never been able to deal with people around him getting sick, it was something he'd always feared because he'd seen some of his closest friends and family fall ill only to die. It was one of the reasons you hadn't told him, you hadn't wanted to be the one to cause him more stress in his life.

"I'm fine, I had a kidney infection that had led to them almost failing but I'm okay...T-That's the reason I haven't had sex with you, I needed to rest." Taehyung shook his head at you,

"You don't need to justify us not having sex." Taehyung shot out as he walked over to you, holding your face in his hands as he stared down at you.

"I'm sorry I accused you." He held you close to him as you sniffled a little,

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you." You whined before he kissed you deeply, forgetting the party altogether as he began to question you on everything that had been happening while you were ill.

JUNGKOOK:

Things had been strained between you and Jungkook for a few weeks now and it was beginning to worry him. Had you managed to find someone with a less dangerous position in life? Had you found someone that would take you out more? He wanted to get to the bottom of it but first, he wanted to take you out, maybe he was just paranoid and you weren't acting different...Maybe it was all in his head.

"I was thinking we could go and see a movie this weekend," He called out to you while you were in the bathroom, your stomach churning as you did your best not to throw up.

"Hmm, you hate the movies." You reminded him as you stared at yourself in the mirror, a thick layer of sweat was beginning to form on your forehead and you were beginning to panic a little at the sight of it. The doctor had warned you that when you came off your medication there could be some slight side effects but you were worried your sickness was coming back.

"I want to take you out, don't you want to?" Jungkook asked as he went to walk into the bathroom, only to find it locked which was something you'd never done in the past. It wasn't like you to lock the bathroom door, sometimes you wouldn't even shut it since the two of you were that close to one another.

"Yn?" He questioned when he noticed it was locked up, he turned the handle thinking maybe he'd just turned it wrong.

"I don't want you to see me...I-I'm-" Instantly he began to think of all of the things that could be wrong. You'd been wearing longer shirts and turtle necks, did you have hickies?

"What are you hiding from me? Another man's marks?" You scoffed at the thought of it, you'd been hiding the needle marks you'd gotten from your IV bag and you'd had to drag out all of your winter clothes to do so.

"Are you insane? You think I would cheat on you?!" You cried out at him, a wave of dizziness taking over you before you sink to your knees in front of the toilet. Jungkook's response was drowned out by the way his head was beginning to spin,

"Don't come in!" You begged him when you suddenly threw up into the toilet, within seconds the door was kicked in, the lock flew somewhere inside the room and Jungkook was kneeling beside you.

"You're sick?" He questioned as he rubbed your lower back, looking at the state of you. You were shivering and sweating all at the same time,

"I've been sick for a while, it's an infection...I've been getting treatment but-" You were suddenly sick again and Jungkook continued to rub your back, reaching for the bottle of water you'd been nursing for a while.

"You'll be getting more. Who's your doctor?" He questioned as he did his best not to panic. He'd never been good when people around him were sick, his mind always went to the worst-case scenario but you needed him and he could see that now.

"He's the most recently called number. He said this would be a side effect...I-I'm scared Jungkook." You managed to choke out as he pulled you into his arms,

"I'll make sure you get better, you have nothing to be worried about." He promised as he began to call your doctor, holding you close to him the entire time.

tagline: @millenniumspec @chiisaiblog @tinyoonsblog @sw33tnight @taestannie @cherrybubblesandvodka @army24--7 @acciocriativity @mitzwinchester @heyjiminnie @halesandy @jin-from-the-block @aerastus @namjooningelsewhere @ratherbfangirling @psychosupernatural @lyoongx @periandernyx @laylasbunbunny @royallyjjk @critssq @lenfilms​ @btsiguess-kpop​ @meowmeowisdaname​ @imafivestarkpopstan​

[outofmydepthatapublicbeach]

to fall in deeper - Julien Baker x lacy!reader

jj chats: this has been one of the longest things ive written on this account and i am very proud of it!!! i hope this lives up to any expectations!!! also i recommend reading the first part before reading this it is linked here!

word count: almost 2000!!!

warnings: RPF, use of y/n, reader is a musician/famous, julien is kinda mean, someone passes out (not the reader, the boys or muna), reader calls julien 'jay'.

inspired by the request: i lovvved your love Julien fic based on lacy SO much!!! you’re crazy talented <3 would you consider writing more parts of it? 🎀🩷 like maybe how julien falls more and more in love and maybe an eventual angry love confession from julien, and their first date/kiss?

feedback is encouraged and i'd love to get some just please be kind!!!

When MUNA went on tour, they asked their dear friends to perform as openers. It was on billboards and spread across social media: “Boygenius and (Y/N): openers for The Greatest Band in the World”. All parties were ebullient, another few months of music, laughter, and fun. Everyone except Julien Baker, Julien wasn’t pleased when she found out you were the other opener. She despised the feeling she got in her gut when your name was mentioned, she couldn’t decide what it meant. She was torn between it being contempt or admiration. She didn’t like not knowing, she didn’t like the fact she couldn’t figure you out, let alone figure out her own feelings for you. 

So far the tour had been faring well. There were huge crowds showing up every night, all screaming out the lyrics to their favorite MUNA hits. Everything was going well, until August 6th, a Friday night. It was exceptionally hot and it was starting to take a toll on the musicians. However  they were all pushing through, they had loud fans backstage that gave them some relief from the heat and could basically get away with no shirt on stage. So far, the night was going well, besides the heat. Lucy and Julien sat in front of a large fan, while Phoebe and you stood in front of another one. MUNA was performing on stage, while you all waited until the last song, “Silk Chiffon” . It was always a nice surprise to the fans when you four came bobbing up on stage singing along, dancing with one another. 

Phoebe sighed, turning towards you “Want to go back with me to get some water?”

Your eyes darted to the right, where your water bottle stood proud and tall, still about half full. “No Pheobs I’m okay! I’ll walk with you though!” 

“Oh no dude you’re good,” The platinum blond turned to Lucy and proposed the same question.

“Yeah my water ran out like 5 minutes ago,” Lucy hopped up from her seat, moving towards an already upright Phoebe who was wiping her forehead with the back of her hand, sweat droplets rolling off. “Be right back guys!” 

Before they turned the corner you checked the time and yelled to the singers “I think there's only two more songs till Silk Chiffon so hurry!” Lucy and Phoebe nodded to you and continued their walk to wherever they were storing the water bottles. Out of the corner of your eye you spotted Julien rolling her eyes.

You turned your body to hers, you ignored her obvious irritation towards you and smiling you asked, “You good Julien? I got some water if you need it!”

“Yeah I’m fine. Thanks.” The tattooed woman replied, curtly. 

“Ohhhkay,” you said, confused by her tone. You thought for a minute going back over the day to see if you did anything that would warrant that reaction. You couldn’t find anything, but you did remember how Julien really hadn’t ever been that cordial to you, not since that night outside the restaurant where she found you crying. In a moment of panic you asked the woman sitting 5 feet from you, “Did I do something?”

Julien turned towards you, obviously dumbstruck by your question. She hesitated before responding, you could practically see the wheels turning behind her eyes, “No, you didn’t do anything.”

Quickly you replied, desperate to figure out where you went wrong. “You act weird around me.”

You could see a flash of panic move over Julien;s face before it was replaced with a look of annoyance. “How do I act weird around you?” Julien asked as if it was the most absurd sentence you could have chosen to have said. 

“You don’t talk to me ever, you avoid me, you don’t reply to my texts in the groupchat. Yesterday on stage you avoided me every chance you got. I get that we aren’t really close but do you have to pretend like I’m not even there? Like I don’t even matter?” Your voice started to strain towards the end of your dialogue, you could feel your eyes start to water.

“I-I don’t-” 

Julien was cut off by a very energetic Phoebe who came skipping backstage.  “We’re on stage in like a minute guys! Grab your mics!” 

You quickly got up, blinking back your tears as you approached a table, grabbing a mic. You settled your breathing as Lucy came up to you. “You okay?” She asked, voice laced with worry.

“Mhm! I’m fine! I think the heat is just getting to me!” You replied, your voice steady. You’re honestly surprised at how fast you pulled yourself together.

MUNA was on stage finishing up their second to last song for the night when Katie yelled into her microphone, “Thank you all for such a gorgeous night! We have one last song! Can you all welcome our guests to the stage please?” The crowd begins to go crazy. 

One by one the 4 of you run out on stage as the band starts playing “Silk Chiffon”. Your eyes scan over the crowd, everyone is having an amazing time, they all look tired, but in a euphoric concert driven tiredness. Until you spot one girl near the front of the barricade. She looks as if she's about to pass out, and the people around her don’t seem to notice. You brush it off, but decide to keep an eye on her just in case something happens.

As the band starts to play the music fills your body, heating your veins with electricity. You move the mic to your mouth as you sing background for Katie. This was always one of your favorite parts of the show, the harmony between all of your voices, the feeling of being alive and showing it through music. Phoebe rushes up to you and grabs your wrist, twirling you around and smiling wide at you. She leans in and gives you a kiss on your cheek before your bodies find natural sync, dancing together. Everything always gets too chaotic when the 7 of you are all on stage. AS your eyes move from  Phoebes to the rest of the talent on stage you spot Julien glaring at you, your cheeks redden and you can’t distinguish whether it's from the heat or the shorter woman's dangerous stare.

Suddenly you remember that girl in the audience and when you look back to her place, you see her almost going limp, merely held up by the sweating bodies around her. Immediately your mind moves fast, remembering your highschool first aid lessons on heat stroke. Your brain quickly runs down her obvious symptoms and realizes it could be severe dehydration or worse, heat stroke. You quickly let go of Phoebe's arm and run backstage to grab a water bottle and someone to help you. 

Phoebe is confused, her eyes follow you backstage until she sees you grab a bottle of water. Too caught up in the moment she thinks you need a drink. She assumes nothing is wrong and then goes over to Jo to dance with her. The others don't realize your absence, too caught up in the song. Except Julien.

Julien was keeping a close eye on you when you were on stage, she saw every time you glanced at that specific spot in the barricade. Though she didn’t follow you, not until you suddenly appeared on the lawn in front of the stage with a medical professional and a security guard. 

You run to the dehydrated woman and then help her get to a cooler spot, and give her small sips of water to hydrate her. You couldn’t care less about the concert at that point, too concentrated on making sure this person was alright. 

Julien’s stomach started to churn, once again you were proving to her that you were perfect. There wasn’t anything Julien could flaw you on at this point. You stopped singing in the middle of a concert to go and take care of someone in need. How could she avoid her true feelings now? 

The song came to a close, and the bands lined up, wrapping their arms around each other's waists and bowing. Naomi, Jo and Katie blew kisses to the crowd and then they all walked offstage, a concert well performed. 

As Phoebe looked backstage she didn’t see you. She turned to the group and asked, “Did anyone see where (Y/N) went?” 

It came as a surprise to everyone when Julien answered, “They went to help someone in the audience, I saw them with medical.” 

Everyone nodded, Jo hoped the person was okay. Katie and Naomi went to ask someone about what had happened. It wasn’t soon after that you showed up.

Walking back to where you had just appeared from, Naomi and Katie both asked you “What happened?”

You told them that “Some girl in the barricade got really dehydrated and passed out, but she’s alright now!” 

A sigh of relief was heard from all 6 people, relieved that everyone was okay. Small chit chat was made until Jo spoke up “Okay I don’t know about you guys but it is hot as hell out here and I am going somewhere with air conditioning!”

“Finally someone said it!”

“Thank god I was starting to think I’d melt,”

Naomi, Katie, Lucy, and Phoebe dispersed after Jo, all talking about some record they’d listened to recently or where to get takeout from.

Julien stayed behind, and just as you were about to follow after the others she caught your arm. You turned towards her, “What’s up Jay?” The nickname leaves your lips in a second before you could think to not say it. 

Julien looked at you strangely and let go of your arm, not really realizing she had grabbed it in the first place. Another round of butterflies flew through her body as you looked at her questioningly.. “That was super cool what you did for that girl. Leaving mid song I mean.” 

You sighed, you were starting to get frustrated with her antics. Did she loathe you? Were you two friends? It seemed every other minute her feelings towards you changed. It was confusing the hell out of you. “Thanks.” You clipped, starting to walk away.

“That’s it?” Julien asked from behind you.

As you turned back around you noticed she stood as if trying to make her 5 foot frame seem taller, not that it was working. “What?”

“‘Thanks.’ That’s all you're gonna say? Normally you're much more chatty,” Julien laughed.

“I don’t know what you want from me Julien.” 

Julien pauses, looking at you with questions written all over her face.

“When I talk to you, you get snippy and you’re mean. When I don’t talk to you, you want me to talk more. I don’t get what your deal is with me?” You whisper-yelled, afraid someone from the crew would see your argument.

“I-” Julien stuttered, not being able to come up with anything to say.

Finally done with the back and forth banter that has been hurting your feelings ever since you met Julien you declared, “If you don’t want to be my friend just say it.”

Julien looked at you, eyes wide. You watched her as the gears turned in her head, trying to come up with what to say. You gave her a chance to explain herself, you set a mental timer of 30 seconds, if she didn’t say anything then you would go away. 

Those 30 seconds flew by without a peep from Julien, your eyes teared up as you spoke, “Fine, I’ll see you later I guess.” Turning around you went to your tour bus, wondering what you did to get Julien to dislike you so.

The only thing going through Julien’s mind was how she screwed up, bad.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

villain comforting a VERY beaten hero, platonic cuddling and lots of tears pls

have a nice day <3

“I’m not dead,” the hero whispered.

And yet they were hooked to an IV. And yet they hadn’t been able to breathe on their own for hours. The villain took in a deep breath. Of course, they were angry. Of course, the villain had been losing their mind in this hospital.

Quiet panic attacks in bathroom stalls, litres of coffee, endless questions for the nurses — this day had been way too long for their liking.

“I’m not dead,” the hero repeated a little louder this time. They sat up in bed and their face made horrible grimaces. As they looked around in excruciating pain, they saw the IV and reached for it.

“Hey, what are you doing?” The villain grabbed their wrist before the hero could rip it out.

The villain was sure they didn’t look much better than the hero; they hadn’t slept in forever.

“Lay back,” the villain said gently. They put a hand on the hero’s shoulder and pressed them back into the hospital bed. “It’s a miracle that you’re alright. Thank god you hit the gym. Your fitness basically saved you. Your heart was strong enough to keep you alive.”

The hero sighed and took the villain’s hand. They didn’t seem to be fully aware of it, so the villain just let it happen.

“I’m fine. It’s not a big deal,” the hero said. They closed their eyes. “I’m not dead, I’m okay.”

“You may not care what happens to you but I do. Do you think it was easy to call the ambulance and then disappear into thin air? Only to rush to the hospital as a civilian? Do you think it was easy to watch you bleed out? Do you think it was easy—”

“Shh.” The hero’s thumb rubbed over the villain’s knuckles a few times. They opened their eyes. “Please don’t cry.”

The villain swallowed. They had spent a lot of time with their conflicted feelings throughout the night. Mostly, they had tried to bury them but now that the hero was talking to them, they couldn’t help but splinter a little.

They wiped tears out of their eyes but it didn’t matter: they kept dropping anyways.

“Please…” the villain whispered. “Please don’t send me away like that ever again.”

Not even the hero’s hand in theirs felt strong. The hero was weak, too frail to function properly. All the villain could do was fall to their knees and pray for the hero’s health until their knees bled.

“I’m not going to the gym anymore,” the hero said. “I just fight with you a lot. So, I guess you saved me after all.”

They paused and closed their eyes again. The villain could see a sparkling tear roll down the hero’s cheek. Probably overwhelmed and tired, they leaned back.

Although they didn’t want to admit it, the villain felt responsible for everything. They had always had a special gift of blaming themselves. The hero looked at them through half-lidded eyes.

“I’ve never had any visitors in the hospital before. Thank you.” Their voice was soft, yet raspy. “And I’m sorry for sending you away. I thought I’d be fine.”

The hero had told the villain it was their last wish: for the villain to go home.

“I was scared and I didn’t want you to watch me die,” they said.

“You’re not gonna leave the bed for quite a while. I’ll chain you to it if I have to.” The villain stood up from their chair and sat down on the bed. “Let’s take a break from all this. You’ve suffered enough for several lifetimes.”

The hero smiled softly and then, they squeezed the villain’s hand.

[after-urh34rt]

"like? No. I adore you!!"

The first years trio going to their favorite popstar's meet and greet!

JJK first years x you 🫵

A/N: IK IVE BEEN GONE FOR YEARS AND IM SORRY PLZ FORGIVEE WITH THIS POSR 🫶

pt. 1

Itadori

• I have a feeling this man would get everything he has of your stuff autographed, and I mean EVERYTHING.

• He wouldn't mind people judging the fact that he listens to you. "I think they make good music if I'm being honest, you should try to listen to them too! They make great music!"

• He would most definitely pour his heart into how much he loves and adores you and your music.

• definitely blasts your music 24/7, even when he's in the shower he's singing your music. To the point where Megumi is concerned for his mental health.

• He knows every song you ever made, word for word. He can sing the lyrics to each song with no music, yes, he's that type of fan.

•since he's busy he's never had the time to go to any of your concerts, he was especially sad when he figured out you were having a concert in Tokyo but couldn't go since he had a mission to do. By the time he got done with it, the concert of over. He cried to Megumi about it and cried in his room the whole night.

•but luckily he was in the area to be able to go and pay for your meet and greet!

•he WOULD go to his dorm and bring his stuff to get autographed (as I stated before) but who knows going long you would stay there for? As much as he wants to get all of his stuff autographed, he's not taking the chance to miss your M&G.

Once it got to Itadori's turn he was more than happy to be there. "Hey~, how are you? It's your favorite popstar [your name]!" The popstar said as they made their signature pose, the male instantly smiled and hands the popstar a copy of their keychain. "Can I have this signed? I really love your music, I would bring in my other merch of yours but I'm kinda in a rush and only had this in my pocket". The popstar laughed lightly as they nod. "Of course I can, and I'm so sorry to hear that. Thank you for supporting me and my music career!". The popstar signs their autograph and asks for one request, " this is quite bold of me to ask but..Your hair looks so fluffy, may I have permission to touch it?". At first Itadori seems surprised at the request but it's replaces with a warm smile, "sure! I don't mind". As he bends over to let you touch his hair. Later on throughout the day Itadori is seen by everyone else as happy as ever, just know, he will never wash his hair ever again.

Megumi

• honestly, Megumi is the LAST person to be expected at a meet and greet.

• I mean, what do you expect? Don't act surprised and disappointed, you expect a guy with a 'tell my mom I love her' 'no tell her yourself' type of mindset to be seen at a meet and greet??

• he would never admit to liking your music, no matter how much he likes it. I can say that as a guaranteed.

• "hey have you heard of [your name]'s music?" // "Yeah". // "Oh, well do you like their music?" // "....oh look, a cat".

•yeah, that's how the conversation would go if someone asks if he likes your music. HE WOULD CHANGE THE TOPIC, QUICK.

• he has a few merch from you, maybe like a small keychain or a small plushie. Nothing obvious though. Something that no one would really notice or pay attention too.

• not really the type of guy that would feel bummed out for missing a concert, maybe a little upset, but nothing like crying over it like itadori.

• in able for him to go to a meet and greet, he would make sure and I mean, MAKE SURE no one seems him entering or leaving.

• he would pull the collar of his uniform up to where you can't see his mouth or his nose as he walks in and out.

As it was Megumi's turn to meet the popstar, they smiled. "Hey~, how are you? It's your favorite popstar [your name]!", The popstar said as they made their signature pose. Megumi felt his face getting red as he hands her a small plushie, ".....can you sign the shirt...please?". He would definitely say this flustered while covering his face. After the popstar gave him the plushie back, they would hold Megumi's hands and smile. "Please come again!". Yeah sure he's gonna wash his hands but he'd never forget your touch.

Nobara

• She would be the only one that would understandably go to your meet and greet.

• She would not feel ashamed saying she listened to your music, "so? Who cares if I listen to them, it's my music taste and if you don't like it then piss off!".

• has about maybe 5-10 merchandise from you, if not more. Most of them being keychains and maybe 2 plushies, and she's proud to have them.

• she would NOT miss your concert, not under any condition

•oh she's sick? Doesn't matter. Have a mission? She's getting it done, QUICK.

•if she did miss a concert she would make a big scene about it, maybe cry and feel upset over it for about 5 hours but other than that, she's alright.

•She would walk in and out of your meet and greet PROUD.

•depending on your gender kinda depends on how she'll react to being at your meet and greet.

•she would be proud no matter what! But if your a male, I feel like she would be more nervous when meeting you.

FEMALE

As it was Nobara's turn in the meet and greet, the Popstar smiled. "Hey~, it's your favorite popstar [your name]!", The popstar said as she did her signature pose. Nobara gave a slight smile as she hands the shirt to the popstar, "hey, can you sign this shirt? Big fan of yours". The female gasps as she sees another female, "oh my, Another girl! Of course I will, thank you for being a fan of mine!". The popstar says and Nobara chuckled. "No really, I've been a fan ever since your [any name title] album. Your music is just so amazing I honestly don't know what else to say". The popstar only laughs. "Haha, that's a long time. Thank you for supporting me! Here you go!". The popstar kisses the shirt, "a good luck charm!". Nobara is surprised and smiles. Do know she is wearing that shirt everyday.

MALE

As it was Nobara's turn in the meet and greet, the Popstar smiled. "Hey~, it's your favorite popstar [your name]!". The popstar said as they did their signature pose. Nobara flush a little, not enough to notice though. Nobara hands the male popstar a shirt, "hey, sign this". The popstar laughs a bit and signs the shirt, "what a demanding request, anything for a fan of mine though". That sentence wasn't enough, it was the wink that was sent at the end that done it. Nobara was flustered as she looks away. The male then kisses the shirt, "good luck charm. Come again, yeah?". Best believe SHES DEFINITELY COMING BACK.

[writingsfromhome]

Dos and Don’ts IV

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

Parts: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

—————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

I try to play dumb but the girls keep pushing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks,” I say through tears.

And the girls hold me to their promise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cute guy!” Someone shouts in my ear.

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

I shake my head no.

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!” I shout back.

“Que pasa?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It ends in a split second.

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n what are you doing out there?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever I’m over this convo.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing!” He insists.

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

“It’s for your own good!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hypocrite.

I drop my hand.

“That’s what I thought Mr. Styles.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s night.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi I need a room.” I say.

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

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

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

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

“The best room will do. Preferably large.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We stare at each other for a tense moment.

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

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

He chooses to ignore me.

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

His phone rings and he answers. Sounds like Jeff.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you always have to be so snarky?”

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

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

“It’s really quite unbecoming.”

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

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

“I never let anything go?” I repeat.

“Yeah! Ever!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Embarrassed you,” he scoffs.

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

“What did I say?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then quit!”

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

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

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

“Whatever y/n.”

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

“What? I told you I was looking out-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“D’you really hate me?” He asks.

“Yes,” I respond with zero hesitation.

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

“Do you hate me?” He asks again.

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay?” He asks low.

I nod, grateful that he was taking over.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

These thoughts kept me preoccupied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So,” I echo.

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

“We should sit?”

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

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

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

“Yeah,” I agreed. “So Josie?”

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

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

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

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

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

I nod. Not sure what to say to that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mr. Styles?”

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

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

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

“What is that?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this a joke?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh y/n please come i-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We dealt with that article.”

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

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

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

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

Shit. “Um. Burnout?”

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

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

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

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

“Tomorrow?”

“Mhm.”

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

He just nods in acknowledgement, somehow stonier.

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

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

“Sure,” I reply.

“Is it because of that night?”

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

Wait, he wanted an answer.

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

••••••••••••••••••••

Present (2 years on):

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

Something flickers in his eyes but surprisingly he stays quiet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You seemed to have.”

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

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

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

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

I’d rather van gogh my ear.

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

“So I’ve gotta get going,” I say.

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

He laughs awkwardly and repeats, “One drink?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

“Never ends well,” I eye the door.

“Just as stubborn as I remember.”

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

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

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

“Can I walk you out at least?”

I shrug, couldn’t hurt.

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

“What?”

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

“I thought we could be friendly exes.”

And when did he get so cheeky.

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

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

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

“I thought that was conspiracy theorists?”

“Nooo. You’re being weird.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you like that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t know. Sorry.”

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

He huffs an awkward laugh.

“Anyway this is me—

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

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

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

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

“A few weeks,” I reply.

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

“A few weeks,” he murmurs back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right.” I choke out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” I laugh.

“A girl?” She asks hesitantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N?”

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

She didn’t tell him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am really sorry,” she whispers.

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

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

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

I catch eyes with Gray in an uncomfortably intimate second.

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

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

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

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

“It is,” I smile. “I’m Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

We stop and chuckle awkwardly.

“Sorry,” I shake my head.

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

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

“Yeah. Yeah, Liliya. You?”

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

“Fair. How’s America?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That was kind of awkward,” I downplay.

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

“No it’s ok!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

So even though it hurt, I comfort her instead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop apologizing.”

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

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

Famous last words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh. Hey yeah. Shoot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You really betrayed me,” I remind him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now it was just a hand.

I clasp it and he squeezes.

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

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

Too much was happening at once.

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

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

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

I smile, despite myself.

Can I come over? I text with shaking hands.

H: For drinks?

Y: For drinks

H: Ofc.

***

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

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

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

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

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

“I did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

But I am so tired.

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

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

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

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

I shake my head.

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

"I think I-“

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

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

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

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

“Then where?” He plays along.

“Anywhere but there.”

He kisses my nose. “There?”

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

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

But his brows furrow and he watches me even closer.

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

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

“What?” I ask.

“We should take that drink first.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

“Just let me talk then.”

“Why does everyone want to talk!”

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

“You already did-“

“Properly.”

I cross my arms and sigh.

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

“So this isn’t a great thing then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My heart flutters amongst other things.

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

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

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

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

I nod along to his story.

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

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

“You’re judging me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you were so snappy, and a dick.”

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

“What do you mean?”

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

“What?” What was he talking about?

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

I remembered that, thinking he was kicking me out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t like my sensitivity.”

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

“Because of you.”

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

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

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

“It was really a lot of reasons.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t make it easy,” I admit.

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

We smile.

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

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

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

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

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

“Same.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want to do this.”

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

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

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

The intensity of his gaze is overwhelming.

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

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

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

I nod.

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

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

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

He moves up to press his forehead against mine.

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"May I?" he looks up.

"Please," I whisper.

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

And it doesn’t go unnoticed.

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

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

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

Love. I brush the word away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

These people made me so angry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But-“ he says behind my hand.

“I’m embarrassed right now,” I admit.

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

“Fine,” I sigh. “It is tiring.”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

We still get under each other’s skin.

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

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

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

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

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

“Coincidence.”

“Liar.”

“I’m an honest man.”

“Truth please?”

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

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

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

“Really? How?”

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

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

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

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

“That’s a strong word.” He argues.

“You. Stalked. Me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll think about it.”

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

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

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

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

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

I scowl. “Don’t get used to it.”

“I won’t,” he laughs, waving his hands around him like he was fanning in an aroma. “I’m soaking this in though.”

“Whatever,” I say with a smile.

“You make me work hard,” he smiles back. “For everything y/n. That’s one of the things I l-I-that I really like about you.”

We ignore the near slip of something far too serious for what we had going. We move past it but it sets my heart racing.

“So this friend of yours,” I change the subject. “With the music video. Didn’t you guys have like, beef when you were on tour? All that article stuff?”

“You of all people should know not to believe what you see online. It was all manipulated and put out of context.”

“I know but you were all moody for all your shows afterwards. I remember Jeff and Graham complaining. I assumed the articles had worn you down a bit.”

He raises a brow like he’s waiting on me to figure something out.

“What?”

“Really? You think it was the artcles?”

“Well what else happened that-“

Oh god. Was I that stupid?

Of course it wasn’t the articles, it was me! Us.

A smile stretches over the contours of his face as realization dawns on mine, “Twice in a row I’ve got you today, I should buy a lottery ticket.”

“I’m off my game today is all, don’t get used to it.”

I can’t believe it. Not that I didn’t believe Harry after the last few weeks but I—that night—really meant that much to him that his feelings over it had affected the rest of his tour? I had affected his tour?

“Why didn’t you say anything if it was weighing on you so much? If I recall I tried to talk to you a couple times.” I ask.

“What could I say,” he snorts. “You were engaged and my loss of control was why you cheated. Then you were quitting and I knew if I said anything you might have stayed. I didn’t want to keep you where you didn’t want to be.”

His words tug at my heart. He really had thought up a storm.

“Harry,” I lean back. “Gray and I broke up before I joined you guys on tour again. We weren’t cheating.”

His forehead creases, “What?! But you were together at my London show. I thought you two broke up after you moved back home?”

“No,” I guess in the last few weeks I’d just mentioned we broke up a long time ago. He didn’t know any specifics. “We were fake-together because he hadn’t broken the news to his sister then. But that’s why I was all…y’know in Barcelona-“

“Fuck me,” he groans. “No wonder you thought I was an ass for pulling you away-“

“Well you were-“

“Yeah alright-“

“Why did you really pull me away though?”

“I…I was feeling a bit possessive.”

“What?”

I wasn’t expecting that to come out of his mouth. He smiles sheepishly, “I thought we already came to terms with that.”

My stomach does a few somersaults. Until tonight I don’t think I’ve really focused on the magnitude of how Harry felt back then. Parts of my mind were still remembering him as a prick just because it was easier to remember my side of things. But this spins things in a brighter light.

“I was just your assistant though.”

“Y/N,” he tilts his head to the side. “Did I not already tell you what I thought about you that night in my flat?”

“Yeah but-“

“I’d never met anyone like you, I really liked you. I couldn’t have you though and I had to push you away constantly. And that drove me a bit crazy sometimes.”

I let out a noisy breath, wondering if how he felt about me was just as intense now as it was then. A part of me knows it must be. Feelings like that didn’t fade. But here I was, barely knowing what it was I felt for him. All I knew was that it was nice when we were together.

Why me, I want to ask. But I hold back. It wasn’t a question I could ask my ex-employer current-lover part-time-asshole.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “Was that a bit strong?”

“No,” I sigh again and he laughs. “Fine. A little. But it’s fine, I’m okay.”

“Okay,” he believes me. “So you broke off your engagement and didn’t tell anyone?”

“Kinda, we weren’t in a place we could come back from. We decided that mutually after things blew up. He didn’t even know I was leaving the country actually.”

Harry whistles. “You ran out on all of us.”

I scratch the side of my head, “Maybe?”

“Well I’ve enjoyed having you again, here.” He says with sincerity. “I’m really relieved to be able to get to say everything I wanted to your face.”

I agree. Neither of us mention I was leaving later in the week.

Even by the night before I’m leaving London we still hadn’t discussed a thing. But there’s a heaviness to us as we have dinner at his, as we pretend to watch a movie only to cuddle on the couch. We lay there facing each other and I trace his eyes, his nose, his wonderful mouth. It’s so odd to me that this was the same Harry Styles performing in sold out venues and on the walls of teenage bedrooms. That I got to have him in these quiet moments and be present.

I feel so grateful for this. That I didn’t have to carry around these draining stories within me anymore, that it felt like it happened to someone else. In a way even if nothing came from all this, I got closure. I was able to move on now.

I imagine my heart and it feels like when you take a stroll mid-March and realize nature was healing from winter’s blues. Warm and blooming the earth was growing again—my heart was growing stronger. Now the idea of a date or a partner didn’t seem so daunting and exhausting. I would never have guessed that it would take the man who almost broke me to come into my life again for me to see how to fit those pieces back in place again.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do not having you in town anymore,” his lashes flutter as I run my hand through his hair. It was still shorter than I was used to but it had grown in the last three weeks.

“Oh you’ll be fine,” I say. “I’ve worked on your schedule before: meetings and studio sessions and photoshoots and interviews.”

“A busy life isn’t always a full one,” he whispers. And it’s the closest thing to a confession we were going to get to. I cover his mouth with mine and we indulge in each other one final time.

There is a symphony of unexpected but undeniable intimacy woven between the beats of our entwined hearts. I know I would probably never feel this way with anyone and I don’t think I’d want to. Being with Harry was passion. It was losing myself and finding myself at the same time. It was being vulnerable and guarded and cherished and known.

My flight out tomorrow is around noon but I can’t stay the night as I’d have to help Oretta in the morning to make sure everything gets to the airport in time. Harry walks me down to his lobby and we stand there for a few, just holding each other tight. He doesn’t ask me to stay and I don’t ask him to come.

“This isn’t goodbye y/n,” Harry says when we part. His hand rests on his heart. I know the feeling, mine aches so hard I want to press my hand to it just to tell it everything would be fine.

“No,” I shake my head. My eyes had been teary ever since he squeezed me to him. “We’ll talk soon.”

“You’ll be directing music videos soon.”

I roll my eyes, “I’m still working on the proposal.”

“I have a good feeling about it.”

“That makes one of us. But…thanks for believing in me.”

“Thanks for believing in me,” he whispers. “Even when you didn’t have to.”

I’m glad I did. The only time in my life not paying attention to the warning bells had paid off.

“I’ve been working with this new producer and he wants me to come out to a studio in Cotati?” Harry mentions. “How far is that from where you are? Are you still in m Burbank?”

“Burbank’s where my parents are,” I shake my head. I look up what he’s talking about and feel a thrill when it’s less than a couple hours. Still, I try to maintain neutrality. “A little over an hour?”

“Well,” he brushes my hair over my shoulder and keeps his eyes looking just over it. “Depending on what you’re doing—maybe if you’re free…we can see each other again?”

I would love that. My heart is bursting just thinking of getting to have him in the place I called home. Of this meaning something. Of him wanting to see me again.

“Of course if you have a boyfriend by then and he doesn’t want you to see me that’s…I mean, live your life and if it works out we-“

“Yes,” I cut him off. “Yeah. Let’s see but that sounds good.”

He meets my gaze and I laugh a little, he was nervous and that was rare.

“Good,” he smiles with. “Until next time.”

“Until next time,” I step into his arms and it’s a quick affair before he steps away. I turn to head out the door, shielding my eyes from him. Not wanting him to see that this was stupidly hard to say goodbye.

He waves me off and I head back to my hotel with a heavy heart. But I think about him asking to see me again. Who knows when that would be. And I know this wasn’t the end of our story.

***

I’m happy to land in SFO the following evening, happy to busy myself with Oretta’s business, happy to have Winnie chattering away. I spent parts of the flight I wasn’t sleeping working on my MV proposal and it awakens a familiar passion inside of me I’d been afraid I’d lost.

I send out a silent thanks to Harry for knowing what was good for me.

I think of Harry often, Gray even less until I don’t think of him at all. I dream of London weekly; I missed it this time around. And as life resumes again I anticipate the change I sense on the horizon.

So when life gives me lemons I stop asking Do I or Don’t I. If one thing the last year has taught me was I had to listen to my gut and look at the signs. I had to start asking what I wanted and go after it. Even though Harry and I barely talk, I remember the lessons he’s taught me.

I stop looking to others to make decisions. There’s no guidebook or lists to help me make my decisions either. I take deep breaths and I believe in myself.

I build a new life on the remains of my old. I don’t let it dictate what I did anymore, I simply leave it as the foundation to elevate me even higher. I reach for the sky with my feet planted firmly on the ground. And I grow with reckless abandon.

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Epilogue

[npdzane]

Hiiiii, could you explain you npd Zane hc to me? As someone who lives with a narcissist, I’m very interested.

IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT!!!!!! FOR SO LONG!!!!!!

Tw I think bc ik i will be mentioning sh. But only for a sentence or two.

Mostly just "he's just like me fr". I get how it can sound confusing, especially as a lot of people tend to see Zane as the opposite of what a (stereotypical) narcissist would act like, so I'll try to explain in a way that makes sense.

I'm going to list off traits I see in him, and then what caused it and how it developed over time. Starting with the traits.

- Pixal is 100% his fp. I don't think there's anything to say about it that hasn't been said already. You don't just give a girl half your heart because you "like her a little" without having some issues.

- "Be envious of others/believe others are envious of them". He stated himself that he envied Kai. He also has moments where he does things that make him look better than others ("I personally find old video games to be unchallenging", something about his tone when he was saying "being a nindroid, I wont be able to be digested.", he also just does a lot of random flips and shit when its not needed?? That part may be a stretch though.).

- "Withdrawal from situations where they may fail." In Quest for the Lost Powers, he almost quits out of fear that he won't be able to face the Ice Emperor without breaking down. He also tends to tell someone they shouldn't do something because the chance of failing is too high.

- "Feeling depressed or moody over not reaching perfection/secretly feeling insecure, shameful, and humiliation and fearing being exposed as a failure" In s4, he panics over feeling like he'll always be just a replica of the original Zane. He's desperately begging Pixal to save him from said panic too (which fits into the last trait). He still has similar fears to this day, feeling like being seen as just a robot takes away from his original design. Meaning he failed at fitting in, which was always his goal.

- "Have trouble interacting with others and easily feel sighted" in the entirety of S1-3, he struggles HEAVILY to talk to the others. Granted this does get better throughout the series, but it's getting bad again it seems. He often goes on solo missions or stays in the monastery/Destiny's Bounty. I personally think it's because he feels the others don't see him as vital to the team as they should, or he believes he doesn't need help with anything from anyone (but Pixal). The point is there is some sense of "they don't appreciate me enough".

- "React with rage or contempt to try to belittle others to make them appear superior". Again, bringing back the "I find older video games to be non challenging" quote. As well as the fact that every time Pixal is obviously very annoyed by him, he ignores her and carries on with what he thinks is the right idea (Detective/Pirate Zane obviously was a bad idea, but noooo Zane can't be wrong ever). He doesn't react with rage as much (at least not openly), however he does ignore people when he's doubted.

Ok! That's not as much as I thought! A few other things I wanted to point out, although these are also headcanons:

- His self esteem is TERRIBLE.

- What he believes he doesn't make up for in battle, training, etc, he tries to make up for in smarts and hobbies to impress people.

- He bases his opinions on people based on assumptions. For example, he'll assume everything about a person's personality and hobbies (sometimes even their skill level at those hobbies) based on first impressions. So, say he meets someone like Jay who seems very excited about something he doesn't like, his first assumption will be "this person is most likely annoying and a waste of time because they're trying to be as good as me, that's not egotistical that's just an observation. Everyone complimenting them is simply lying to them.".

- He refuses to believe any of his flaws are his fault, sure he can say he has flaws but they're all someone else's fault. It's never just how he is, it's always because "someone caused me to act like this".

- He switches between "I'm literally amazing I'm so smart I'm funny I'm good at everything" to "Everyone hates me for no reason I dont deserve any of this they're all terrible awful people" and then again to "I'm not good enough yet I need to push myself more so they'll see I'm better than they think". All because of a small bit of criticism. He absolutely cannot handle criticism. ("Why are you doubting me!? I'm a nindroid!" <- when Kai tried helping him, "Not now Pixal!" <- when Pixal told him trying to out-smart Nadakhan was a bad idea)

- I think him and Pixal argue a LOT. It's why I don't openly ship pixane. I believe ever since he found out she was Samurai X his trust issues got way worse (While he is easily trusting, once he does trust someone it's hard to not break it). He constantly uses their "no more secrets" promise agaisnt her, and he thinks that no matter what she or anyone else tells him, the probability of her keeping something from him is high, and he has to stop it (even if it means being extra clingy, possessive, and controling). But the other ninja somehow haven't noticed this from them, they just believe it's normal couple banter.

Sorry, like I said, this headcanon is coming out of my ass. Now I can talk about what caused it.

I see Dr. Julien as a good father to Zane, just not the best one. Like he's at the lower end of average. Not abusive so to speak, just overly critical and slightly neglectful. Zane's a robot, so why can't he do the things Dr. Julien tells him to do well enough! Julien accidentally made him too similar to the (daughter..ftm moment.) son he wanted, so similar that it turns out Zane needed the same amount of attention and support an actual child would've needed, which Julien didn't account for. Zane was used to only receiving the bare minimum of those two by s1. Unfortunately the bare minimum is far from enough. Not to mention the isolation he had to live through living in Birchwood, far from the village.

I think what we see as OG Zane is basically his child/early teen stage. Anything past s4 is late teen/adult, which is when his symptoms started showing up more. The other ninja, especially Wu, noticed he was starting to cling to Pixal much more (especially since she was in his mind). He'd also start spending more time on hobbies and things to impress people. Thinking if they thought his new self was better than his old self, he wouldn't be seen as a failed replica of the original Zane. He thought he could hide the fact it was all just to look better than everyone else, but either Kai or Cole picked up on it (Kai because he acts similarly in that way, and Cole because he's usually the first to notice things wrong with Zane.). When they showed their concern, Zane only saw it as motivation to try harder and them trying to take Pixal from him.

After the Never Realm, his self esteem and worth went to absolute shit. Not only was he abused and manipulated, he was at fault for the deaths of thousands.

But worst of all, he let himself be abused. Or at least that's what he believes (the Quest for the Lost Powers also confirms this!). He blames himself massively. How could he let himself fall for that? Why didn't he fully cover up the cave to stop threats from coming in? Why didn't he kill Vex when he got his memories back? Why did he let Vex control him? Isn't he supposed to be perfect? How could someone who claims to be perfect let himself slip up like that?

He definitely started to push himself more after coming back. In training, in battle, with maintaining the monastery, with cooking for the others, hobbies, you get the point. He'd completely forgotten to be patient with himself while trying to gain control over his powers and his life again. Meaning the next time he tried to use them in training, they were out of control and he ended up failing and hurting himself. But how? How could he not be perfect if he was trying as hard as he could? If he was programmed to be the best, why isn't he?

Pixal was also starting to get annoyed with Zane, he was way too attached and she knew that. It made her fall out of love, if there was any in the first place. Zane refused to let her separate from him though, especially since there was still the idea that she was keeping things from him. He believed Pixal didn't think he was worth caring about, causing him to purposely make himself worse in hopes her pity will keep her with him. He'd already been struggling with self harm, but now it was as a punishment for failing as well as a way to get Pixal not to leave (See why I don't ship them now?). I would love to talk about how I think he s/h but it'd take another post.

Now that Pixal is gone, he's getting way worse mentally. Which is why he seems like he's not working as well as usual (in the tournament). It's not like he's not trying anymore, it's that he hasn't let himself rest enough for his efforts to work.

That was way less than i expected to say (⁠･⁠o⁠･⁠;⁠). Anyway! Yeah!!! It is just mainly headcanons, but if Zane were confirmed to have some kind of personality disorder in a different world where ninjago isn't for tiny kids I wouldn't be surprised!!!

TY TY TY TY FOR ASKING IVE BEEN WAITING SO LONG TO YAP ABOUT THIS. 😭😭😭😭

[froggibus]

Resurrection - Wally West

Pairing: Wally West x gn! Reader, platonic! Dick Grayson x reader

Genre: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 5.5k

Summary: it’s been almost a year since Wally died, and life has not been kind to you. it doesn’t help that when you get the flu and your fever spikes, you start seeing the speedster everywhere you turn

CW: loss of a loved one, grief, sickness, hallucinations, reader is worried they’re going crazy, overactive imagination, mentions of death, mentions of suicide, panic attacks, ghosts, reader was a part of Young Justice, mutual pining, friends to lovers, resurrection

This alludes heavily to the Young Justice tv show, especially Wally’s death. I apologize in advance because I have poor knowledge of the Flash Family and speedforce!!

day 1 of me pushing my Wally West agenda!! i absolutely adore Wally, and im so happy to be writing about him. this is literally the longest thing ive ever posted on this site but I got so into the story that I couldn’t stop. hopefully this makes sense and isn’t just a jumble of words 😭also i think from now on im gonna include wally in any of my dick/jason/tim hcs

also im very tempted to do a pt2/make a series of wally adapting to life afterwards

————

You groan in your bed, your fever spiking to an almost unbearable temperature. You spend a lot of time in bed nowadays—ever since your best friend died almost a year ago, you haven’t had the drive to do much. But being sick the past week has only confined you to your bed even more. 

You roll over, hoping the other half of your pillow is somehow cooler than the side you’re on now. It’s not, and your body feels like it’s going to overheat. If it was possible to put less clothing on, you would, but the chances of your roommate coming in and seeing you naked are too high. 

Speaking of your roommate, you know that when Dick comes home and sees how bad your temperature has gotten, he’ll rush you to the hospital. Paranoid, big brother Dick who insists he can’t lose another friend. Dick, who moved in with you a few months after Wally died because he was afraid you might hurt yourself. Dick, who forced you to put socks on and keep most of your clothes on because even though you feel hot, he knows you’re still vulnerable to the cold. 

The socks scratch at your ankles now and you long to pull them off, lazily dragging your feet together. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to calm your burning nerve ends. 

As much pain as you’re in, this is the most you’ve felt since Wally died. From the day you watched him get vaporised, everything around you has just gotten duller by the day. You can hardly stomach to put on your costume, let alone look at Barry or Bart. Even seeing The Flash on the news is enough to make you sick. 

“Y/n,” a soft voice echoes from the bed next to you. 

You force your eyes open, your dark room greeting you. “Hello?”

There’s no answer, and you’re able to close your eyes again. You relax into your bedsheets, kicking the blankets off of your legs in a desperate attempt to get some relief. Clearly your fever has spiked to the point where you’re losing it. 

“Y/n!” The voice is stronger now, and it sounds more desperate than before. More than that—there’s something familiar to it. 

You open your eyes again and gasp, all of the breath leaving your body. There, sitting on the bed next to you, is Wally. His green eyes are full of concern, his mouth pulled into a tight line. 

“Oh god,” you whine, “I really am losing it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the hallucination of your dead best friend to go away. How could any god be so cruel to inflict this on you? Knowing how you felt about Wally—and what he’d said to you during your last moments together?

When you open your eyes again, he’s still sitting there. His unruly red hair is falling into his face and all you want is to reach out and brush it away. 

“You’re not losing it,” he says. 

“I’m so sick that I’m hallucinating my dead best friend. How is that not losing it?”

He shrugs. “I mean it does sound pretty crazy, but I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You’re dead,” you say simply, voice void of emotions. “You died and you left and you’re never coming back.”

“I got better.”

Everything about him screams Wally. His voice, his mannerisms, even the stupid jokes he makes. But you know it’s just your brain playing a stupid trick on you. Your braincells have overheated and you’re left staring at a ghost. 

“No, you didn’t. And you never will, Wally. And I know that so I don’t get why my stupid brain can’t leave this alone.”

He lays down on his side next to you, looking up at you with those doe eyes. “There wasn’t a body, you know.”

His words make you angry, they make you choke on the lump in your throat. But he’s right. Something about his death always seemed wrong to you, and even after this long, you still can’t accept it. He’s saying all of the right things, and it almost makes you believe he’s really here. 

“So say you are here…why now? Why here? Why am I the only one who’s seen you?”

He strokes his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “I don’t really know, y/n. I’ve been here the whole time. I’ve watched everything. I know how hard things have been for you guys…” 

You don’t say anything, just staring at him expectantly, forcing him to keep talking. 

“I’m sorry you’re sick, but I’m glad Dick is taking care of you.”

“Answer the question, Wally. Why now?”

He sighs. “I think it’s because you’re sick. I think once your fever got past a certain point you were able to hear me, and once you could hear me, you could see me.”

“How would that even work?” You squint at him, “how did you even know I could hear you?”

“I didn’t it’s just—it’s a habit to talk to you, you know? But anyway, I think it has something to do with the speed force being attracted to the release of energy, and whenever you have a fever, you release massive amounts of it. But since yours is so high…” he gestures at himself for emphasis. 

“So as long as I stay sick, I can see you?”

“I think so.”

“Then I never want to get better,” you murmur. 

“Y/n,” he sighs, and the tone he uses makes you freeze. You’ve only ever heard him use it once before—with you on the day he died. 

The thought brings a tear to your eye, his words echoing in your ears. I love you, y/n, I always have. I’ll be back for you, okay?

When Dick gets home from work, he’s surprised to hear you talking. His first instinct is that you’re feeling better and you’re arranging to go back to work, but as he gets closer to your bedroom door, he realizes it’s not the case. 

He listens in for a bit, hearing a one sided conversation. As soon as he hears you say ‘Wally’, he’s barging through your door only to find you talking to the air. 

“Dick!” You cry out, gesturing to the empty bed next to you, “look! He’s back, he’s here. Wally’s here!”

Dick’s heart aches for you. You’re clearly unwell and in your feverish state, your mind is playing tricks on you. 

“Y/n,” Dick sighs, “I think it’s time we go to a doctor.”

He approaches your bedside slowly, trying not to startle or upset you. He knows you’re hallucinating, and he really doesn’t want to trigger anything worse to happen. 

He kneels at your bedside, just behind Wally. “Come on, we need to get you to the hospital.”

“N-no! I can’t leave Wally!”

Wally’s face crinkles up the way it always has when he feels guilty. “Y/n, I think you should go with Rob.”

“No!” You cry out, “you can’t leave me again!”

Dick gives you no warning before he’s pulling you into his arms, your feverish skin scorching his. He holds you securely, even as you cry and beg him to take you back to Wally. 

“Wally, please! Do something! Let him see you! Don’t—don’t leave me again!”

“Y/n,” Dick rubs your sweaty hair out of your face. “It’s gonna be okay. You’re really sick, and you’re hallucinating, but we’ll make you all better. I just need you to trust me.”

You take a deep breath, and then another, looking over Dick’s shoulder at the redhead sitting on your bed, giving you a sad look. He gives you a wave, “it’s okay, y/n. Everything will be okay.”

You just hope he’s right. 

—

The hospital takes an eternity to admit you, leaving you lying on Dick’s lap in the waiting room. You keep your eyes closed, hoping that if you open them Wally will be there, but you know he won’t. 

Dick strokes your hair, rubs your back, does anything he can to keep you comfortable. When a nurse finally calls your name, he helps you to your feet and half carries you down the hall. 

They leave the two of you in a small, isolated room with a bed covered in scratchy sheets. Dick helps you climb up while the nurse insists a doctor will be by shortly. 

Dick holds your hand the whole time, the skin on his palm turning sweaty from where your hand touches his. Your fever has only gone up since you left the house and you feel like you’re going to burn alive. 

Finally, a doctor comes in and she starts to run all kinds of tests on you. After a while, they insert an IV into your arm and push fluids to keep you hydrated. They give you medicine to help you drift off to sleep, your eyes fluttering shut before you realize what’s happening. 

You wake up a few hours later, Dick no longer asleep at your bedside. Your temperature has gone down, and while you still feel feverish, you’re coherent enough to know what’s going on around you. 

“—hallucinating our best friend who died almost a year ago.” Dick tried to keep his voice down but you can hear it from the hallway. 

“It’s common in extremely high fever’s to experience visual, auditory and sometimes even tactile hallucinations,” the doctor explains. “Y/n’s fever was beyond high enough to cause any number of these complications.” 

Your shoulders slump. You knew deep down that Wally wasn’t really there, that he was a hallucination, but a part of you just hoped…

“But it’s going to be alright? There’s not any permanent side effects?”

The doctor sounds tired of Dick’s questions. “No, we’re keeping y/n overnight for observation but there shouldn’t be any long term side effects.”

Dick thanks the woman and slips back into your room, stopping in his tracks past the door when he realises you’re awake. “How are you feeling?” He whispers. 

“Somewhat better,” you admit. “Not hallucinating anymore.”

He sits in the chair next to your bed and squeezes your hand. “That’s good to hear.”

“I-I’m sorry if I upset you earlier…talking about Wally and everything. I just—it seemed so real, you know? He was right there, Dick.”

“I know. You don’t need to apologize. Your mind was playing tricks on you, n/n. I know you didn’t mean any harm by it.”

You can’t help the tears that trickle down your cheeks. “I just—I miss him so much!” 

“It’s okay,” Dick leans over your bed, pulling you tightly to his chest. “I miss him too. I miss him so, so much. And if there was any chance…you know I would take it too.”

“Did I ever tell you what he said to me that day? Just before he passed?”

Dick shakes his head. 

“He said—,” your voice shakes so severely it’s hard to get the words out. “He said ‘I love you, y/n. I always have. I’ll be back for you, okay?’” 

The gears in Dick’s brain click together, and suddenly everything makes sense. It was no secret that you and Wally had been pining after each other for years. Always cuddling and fighting and loving and hating each other. Dick was close to both of you, and he of all people knew how your feelings were bubbling over. He knew how badly you wanted to be with Wally—and how badly Wally wanted to be with you.

It’s a cruel joke, he thinks. That in one day you got everything you wanted, and an hour later had it ripped away. No wonder you’d been like a zombie this year.

“Y/n…” he squeezes your hand reassuringly. 

You squeeze his hand back, and between the fever and the medicine and Dick’s skin on yours, everything in the world feels right for a minute. 

—

It takes two weeks for you to fully recover from being sick. If it weren’t for your roommate being the ultra rich adoptive son of Bruce Wayne, you probably would have had to go back to work sooner. Dick insisted that you stay home until you were fully recovered, though, offering to cover your bills for the month. 

It’s also been two weeks since you saw Wally. It’s been easy to brush it off as a fever dream, but something deep within you wants it to be something more than that. Still, you try to continue on with your day to day life, putting thoughts of the speedster as far away from you as possible. 

You pull into the Bludhaven News parking lot with ten minutes to spare. You grab your bag from the passenger seat and clip your badge to your shirt before grabbing the coffee you’d stopped for on the way. You’re determined to make today a good day. 

You settle in at your desk, smiling at the picture of you and the original Young Justice team was kids. It makes you happy, but in the most bittersweet meaning of the word. You run your fingers across the glass, stopping them at the lightning symbol on Wally’s chest. 

You’re interrupted by your boss stopping at your desk. 

“Hey, l/n, good to have you back,” she smiles, and you feel as though she really means it. “We’re having a meeting in five minutes.”

You nod, thanking her. She leaves you at your desk, letting you get organized before you have to meet them in the conference room. 

You bring your laptop and coffee and settle in at the big round table in the spinning desk chair. Other journalists, reporters and higher ups slowly file into the room, filling it up until it’s so full it feels almost hard to breathe. 

Your boss enters the room last, standing at the front in front of the tv. She welcomes you back before explaining what’s going on in current events, and what she expects everyone to report on. 

You sip your coffee, zoning out for the majority of her presentation. Every once and a while, she clicks a remote and the screen changes to a new slide. You don’t pay much attention to the tv, only glancing at it every so often. 

When the screen changes to three familiar figures, you freeze. It feels like someone dumped cold water on you, and you’re painfully aware of everything going on around you. 

The screen shows Wally, Bart and Barry on the day he died. Wally has a big grin on his face, clad in his Kid Flash suit, giving a salute to a security camera. You’re not sure how they got this picture, but a part of you wishes they didn’t. 

“—the one year anniversary since the Flash Family saved the world, and since Kid Flash bravely sacrificed himself to achieve this goal. We want to honour them for their ultimate sacrifice, and that’s why this month, we’ll be doing daily pieces on the great exploits of the family. Also—,”

Her words echo in your ears, everything feels far away from you. The only thing you can focus on is the way your heart is pounding and the way all the air is sucked out of your lungs. Wally’s face stares at you from the tv screen, and the walls close in. 

You’re on your feet in an instant. “Pardon me,” you rasp out, before almost running out of the room. 

You’re not sure where you’re going. Your head is spinning, your heart is racing, everything is fading away. You stumble your way into the bathroom, locking the door behind you before your knees buckle and you hit the floor. 

You claw at your throat, desperate for air. You squeeze your eyes shut, clenching your fists, desperate for pressure. When you open your eyes, you swear Wally is there. 

“You’re not here,” you gasp. “You’re not real.”

Wally’s green eyes are wide, staring at you with concern. “Y/n—,”

“You’re not real! You’re just some ghost—fucking haunting me for no reason at all!”

It breaks his heart to see you like this. So sad, so hurt, barely able to breathe. 

“Stop,” you choke out, “stop haunting me! Stop, stop, stop it!”

Wally hasn’t seen you have a panic attack this bad since you were kids. Curled up in a ball, gasping for air and repeating the same word over and over again. He’s desperate to help you—help you like he did back then. 

He doesn’t even register what he’s doing until he pulls you into his lap, arms tight around your waist. He keeps a hand over your heart, tracing circles over it. 

“Y/n, y/n…” He murmurs softly, “y/n, listen to me. Deep breath in, okay? Follow my example, feel my heart beating.”

You’re not sure how you can feel his arms on you, feel his heart beating against your back. You’re half convinced you’ve already fainted, and you’re laying on the bathroom floor having another fever dream. 

Still, you follow his example. You breathe in when you feel his chest rise, and breathe out when you feel his chest fall. You stay silent for a few minutes, leaning completely against Wally until you can breathe again. 

Wally rubs your hair, his other hand tracing circles on your hip bone. “How are you feeling?” He asks. 

“Better,” you admit. 

It takes a few minutes longer for either of you to register that he’s touching you. His hands are on your body and you can feel them. 

“Wally, you’re touching me.”

“I’m touching you?”

The shock is almost enough to send you back into a panic attack. Ghosts can’t touch people, neither can fever dreams. But somehow, someway, Wally West is holding you in his arms. 

—

You leave the bathroom ten minutes later, after you and Wally went back and forth on if he was really there with you or not. You insist you’re losing it, but Wally insists he’s there, and somehow when you were sick, you connected to the speed force and now you can see him. 

You head back to your desk with no intention of working, set on researching the speed force and if it’s possible to connect to it without being a speedster. Of course, Google doesn’t yield the results you hope, so you decide to go a different route. 

You pull out your phone and text Dick. 

You: do you think you could get me Barry’s number? need it for work 

Robin 1.0: I think I can manage 

You: you’re the best 

Robin 1.0: don’t you know it

It only takes a few minutes before he texts you his contact for Barry Allen. You waste no time in opening the contact and sending him a quick text. 

Of course, you don’t get to see what he responds because suddenly your boss is over your shoulder. 

“Y/n, you know what our policy is on personal devices at work. There’s too much sensitive information here.”

“I know, I know. But if I play my cards right,” your ability to think on your feet coming in handy, “I could get us an exclusive interview with the Flash.”

She lights up at that. “Okay, but remember, no pictures or recordings.”

“Sure thing,” you nod and wait for her to leave before opening up your phone and seeing that you have a new text. 

You: can I ask you a few questions on the speed force?

Barry Allen: sure thing

You: i know the speedforce is like it’s own separate thing that speedsters connect to, but is it possible for non speedsters to connect to it? 

Barry Allen: only under extenuating circumstances. not every ordinary person can just connect to it, but if you’ve been in contact with the speedforce unwittingly or if a speedster has accidentally shared particles with you it’s possible. why?

You: just…a theory im working on for work. we’re doing a piece on Flash Family to honour you guys for saving the world and I wanted to look into it more 

You: thank you

Barry Allen: do you think you’ve been in contact with a speedster recently?

You: i don’t know, if I’m being honest. 

Barry Allen: okay…keep me updated, okay? if you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask 

You: thanks

You frown, your conversation with Barry only making you feel more confused. How would you have had contact with a speedster or the speedforce? It’s been almost a year since you last touched Wally, and there’s no way the symptoms are only coming out now. And the speedforce—there’s no way for you to have connected with it either. 

You look up from your phone only to see Wally sitting on your desk, looking at you with amusement. “Get what you wanted?”

“Why are you still here?”

“What?” He holds his hand over his chest, feigning hurt. “You don’t want me here?”

You go to speak but realize your coworkers are giving you strange looks. You quickly put your phone up to your ear, pretending to be on a phone call. 

“Of course I want you here. I lo—miss you, okay? But it’s not possible. You shouldn’t be here.”

“But I am, y/n. And did Barry not just confirm that to you?”

You sigh. “I will admit, what Barry said does confirm my theory, and what you said while I was sick but…”

“But?”

“It shouldn’t be possible. You were vaporized, Wally. You’re dead. So even if you are here, you’re just a ghost.” 

“Ghost, schmost,” he rolls his eyes, leaning in to flick your arm. “Does that not feel real to you?”

“I don’t know, okay? Just—I need time to think. About everything.”

You don’t say it, but it lingers in the air: I need time to think about you. 

You put your phone down, indicating to the boy that you’re done talking, before returning to your job. The day goes by fast when you’re contemplating if you’re actually being haunted by the ghost of your best friend or not. 

Before you know it, you’re heading home. When you get through the door of the apartment, Dick is nowhere to be found. He must still be at work, you think. 

You kick off your shoes and set your bag on the counter before throwing yourself on your bed. You lay down for only a minute before a familiar cologne fills your scent. One you haven’t smelled in a long time. 

You don’t need to open your eyes to know that Wally is back. “What are you doing here?”

“I was hoping I could catch you changing,” you can hear the grin in his voice. 

You sit up, staring at him with wide eyes. “Wait—if you’ve been here this whole time then…?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I didn’t! I mean, I thought about it but…it feels wrong.” 

“More wrong than confessing your love to me and then dying?”

Both of you freeze after that, and your hand flies up to your mouth as if you can force the words back in there. 

“I—y/n…you know that if I had a choice, I would have come back to you. Right?”

You nod, “I know. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” he places a hand over yours. “I wanted to come back to you. Even though you didn’t say it back, I just thought—”

“You didn’t give me a chance to say it back! You dumped all that on me and then you ran away and left, Wally! You didn’t give me the chance!”

Your outburst surprises both of you. Wally isn’t sure what to do—if he should apologize or be angry or both or neither. So he says nothing. 

“I-I think you should go, Wally. You’re only doing harm by being here. You’re dead and I need to move on and I never will if you’re just here haunting me.”

You expect him to argue or to make a joke, but the boy doesn’t do any of that. He gives you a lazy, one handed salute, like the kind he would give before speeding away as kids. 

And then he disappears. 

You feel sad and angry all at the same time. You know it’s not fair to Wally to lash out at him like that, but how is it fair for him to open up old wounds? For him to haunt you? 

When Dick gets home, he’s surprised to see you dressed in your old costume. It’s been so long since you put it on, you look almost strange to him. 

“Uh, y/n?” He asks, “not that I’m against this but, what’s up with the costume?”

“I was thinking I could go out on patrol with you tonight,” you explain. “It’s been a while. I need to blow off steam.” 

“Okay, let me get changed.”

That’s good enough for you, so you settle in at the counter and wait for Nightwing to suit up. He comes out a few minutes later, clad in the black and blue Nightwing suit. 

He looks at you seriously through his domino mask. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“If I don’t get out, I’ll go stir crazy.”

“Okay, okay,” he raises his hands in surrender. “But don’t push yourself, okay? And I’ll be there the whole time.”

“Alright, dad,” you roll your eyes. “Let’s go.”

—

Patrol goes fine. It’s just the usual robberies and gang violence, nothing that you and Nightwing can’t handle. Of course, that’s until you hear there’s a bank robbery over the scanner. 

The two of you are about to take off and head towards the bank when you hear the radio go off again. This time, it’s a jewellery store being robbed. 

“Go!” You say to Nightwing, “you get the bank, I can handle the store.”

He seems content with that answer, grappling to the nearest rooftop and heading off towards the bank. You turn and head towards the jewellery store, hoping it’s enough to take your mind off of Wally. 

You get to the store just in time to stop the robbers from shooting the owner.  You knock the gun out of one of their hands, turning to fight the other one. There’s five total, maybe six, but your vision is tunnelling and all you can focus on is the adrenaline pumping through your veins and your need for a distraction. 

You make your way through three of them, and just as you turn to fight the fourth, you hear someone yell from behind you. 

“Y/n, look out!”

You knock out the fourth and turn around, just in time to see Wally West pass through you and punch the man in the face. He hits him hard enough to send him falling to the floor.

You stare at Wally in shock. “You—you hit him!”

“Are you okay?” He’s breathing hard, chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“You saved me…” You mutter. “How did you do that?”

“I-I don’t know,” he admits, placing his hands on your shoulders. “I just didn’t want you to get hurt and then I passed through you and—”

“Dick!” You exclaim, realising you haven’t heard anything from him in a while, and that he still hasn’t returned to you. “Somethings wrong, Wal. We—I gotta go!”

Wally goes to protest, but you’re already running away. Not only are you running away, you’re running at the speed of light, yellow lightning crackling from your ankles. You don’t realize it, too focused on getting to Dick. 

You arrive at the bank to see a bunch of lackeys passed out on the floor. Nightwing is leaning on a counter, holding his hands over a bullet hole in his side. 

“Hey!” You cry out, skidding to a stop next to him. The bank smells gross, like gunpowder and..burning rubber? “Are you okay? Did you get them all?”

He clenched his jaw. “All but one. He headed North, there’s no way we’ll catch him. He’s probably out of town by now.”

“No, he’s not going to get away with this. We’re going to find him.”

And before Dick can ask, you’re tearing away from the bank, lightning in your wake. His jaw falls open at the sight. In the dark, with the speed you’re going and the lightning coming out, you almost look like Wally…

You run as fast as you can, keeping your eyes peeled for the man driving the truck of jewels. You catch up to him in no time, throwing your body weight against the truck fast enough to tip it over. 

Your veins are electrified, pure lightning in your system, better than adrenaline ever could be. You rip the man out of the truck and toss him onto the street. It only takes one hit for you to knock him out, and only a few more seconds to tie him up. 

It’s then that you realize what just happened, how fast you were going. You look down to see the soles of your shoes on fire, the thighs of your costume torn open from the fabric chafing so fast.

Something about the ruined shoes and the torn fabric makes you think of Wally, and the thought of the ghost in the bank saving your life only makes you want to run even more. Is this how he felt everytime he ran? It’s exhilarating, it only makes you want more.

You keep running, running straight up the side of a building before stopping in your tracks on the roof. How did this even happen? You look around, half expecting to see Wally there, but he’s not. 

Your legs quiver, threatening to collapse beneath you. Your feet ache from all of the running and your shoes have practically disintegrated into nothing. You know you’re done for the night, your body at its absolute limit. 

Your knees buckle, but before you can hit the ground, there’s a streak of yellow and suddenly Wally is holding you up against his chest. 

“I—what’s going on?” You ask. 

Wally holds you up with one arm, staring at his other hand. He shakes it, going fast enough to make it seem as though his hand is vibrating. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I—something’s changed. I can feel it.”

You hear the unmistakable sound of a grappling hook before Nightwing is landing on the roof. “Holy shit, y/n. How were you going so fast? For a second there, I thought it was��Wally?”

His face pales at the sight of the redhead, clad in his Kid Flash suit, holding you up against his body. There’s no way he’s here now, alive and well, right in front of his eyes. 

“You…you can see him?”

Dick is running across the roof in an instant, feet pushing him closer to his best friend. He jumps on both of you, arms wrapping around you both. “Wally,” he sobs into his shoulder. “How—how are you here?”

There’s another flash of lightning—red lightning—and suddenly The Flash is standing next to you guys. “I can answer that.”

Wally grins insanely wide, making sure you’re steady against Dick before jumping to hug his former mentor. 

“How did you know I was here?” He asks. 

Barry smiles, “I could feel it. In the speedforce. There was a huge amount of energy released and then for the first time in a year, I could feel you.”

“But how did that happen?” Dick interjects, before adding, “not that we’re not happy to see you.” 

Wally goes back to hugging you, wiping off the tears that have slipped from your eyes and kissing the top of your forehead. “I think y/n here somehow borrowed my speed and-and opened a portal into the speedforce.”

“I brought you back?” Your voice is so quiet it’s barely a whisper. 

“You brought me back!” He’s beaming at you. 

He wraps his arms around your waist, spinning you in a circle. He sets you down on the ground, only to tip your head back and plant a kiss to your lips. It’s intense, passionate, full of the longing he’s felt for you since you were kids. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, using him to keep yourself up. His body is so warm and hard under your touch, so familiar to you. You draw him closer, not even caring if Dick and Barry are standing there staring at you. 

When he finally pulls away, he flashes you the biggest smile in the world. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that.”

“So,” Dick awkwardly says, “why don’t we take this back to our place?”

Wally grabs your hand in his, squeezing it tightly. “I think that’s a really good idea.”

[louloulemons-posts]

Oil At The Coffee Shop IV

Eddie X Fem!Reader

Summary : Reader wants to apologise to the Munsons, having a heart to heart with one and panicking the other.

Word Count : 1.7k

Warnings : Not proofread, not much eddie x reader, uncle wayne’s an icon, max x lucas, petnames from wayne and another, rambly, talks of maxs injuries, mentions of scaring, mentions of the earthquakes/upside down, homeless shelter

Fic Masterlist

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

The first week had been manic, it was now Saturday evening, and you and Max were doing the final clean up of the week. “Hey I was just wondering, do you know if any of your friends are looking for jobs?” you asked her.

“I’m not sure, I could ask.”

“If you don’t mind, I think we could use another staff member, or two,” you smiled at her. “I think so, my feet are killing me.”

“Hey if you need a few days off I don’t mind.”

“No no! It’s okay. It’s just a lot, I was injured a few years back so sometimes my body slows down a bit.”

“Oh Max, you should have told me, I would

have given you more breaks.”

“It’s fine really, I want to be able to do this stuff again.”

“Was it the earthquakes?” you asked her.

“Yeah,” she sighed, “Doctors said I was lucky to be alive.”

“You’re a strong kid Max, you’re going to do amazing things. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, sweeping the floor up. “What happened with Eddie?” She asked. “What do you mean?”

“Well I just mean you know each other, how’s that?”

“Just through Steve and he fixed my car. Don’t think he likes me much in all honesty.”

“Why?”

“I think I offended him. I gave him and Wayne a big tip after fixing my car just to say thank you.”

She nodded, stopping her sweeping, “Eddies not too trusting. I know you meant it to be nice, but he worries about his uncle. Wants to make sure nobody’s being nice to just screw them over,” she explained.

“I see. So how much did I mess up?”

“Don’t worry about it, he’ll forgive you. Wayne will make him,” she chuckled.

“Is there any reason he’s like that? Like not trusting?” Max seemed like she didn’t know how to answer.

“You don’t have to tell me Max, it’s none of my business.”

“Eddies just always been I don’t know … different. He’s not good around new people. That’s all it is, he’ll warm up to you. Especially if your close to Steve and now me. Eddie loves me,” she shrugged.

“Well maybe I’ll go and apologise, take some Cherry turnovers as a white flag.” Grabbing a box you put four of the fresher turnovers in, wrapping them up so they wouldn’t be damaged.

“Well that’s the way to the Munsons hearts, food,” she joked. There was a knock on the door. “That must be Lucas, can I let him in?”

“Course Honey,” you said and the young girl almost skipped to the door.

Hearing them greeting each other you smiled, sorting out Maxs pay, so she could go. “Hi Lucas, how’s it going?” You said to the boy. “I’m good, how’s it been today? Max causing you trouble?” He joked, making his girlfriend hit him lightly.

“She’s been golden,” you smiled, handing her the money. “You two get out of here, have a good night.”

“You sure? I can stay,” she said, almost concerned. “I promise I’ll be okay. You enjoy the rest of your weekend, I’ll see you Monday.”

The young couple waved goodbye, left you to finish everything for the weekend. You planned to take the leftovers that wouldn’t last the weekend, to the shelter in town. Then of course stop off at Munsons mechanics.

There wasn’t a lot to do now that Max had gone, just finish up the sweeping and wrap up food to go. Flicking the lights off you headed out, locking up behind yourself.

Climbing in your, now working, car, you were on your way.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“This is really generous, are you sure?” a woman with dark hair asked, as you placed the boxes of food down on a table. “They’d go to waste, people need food and I have extra.”

“That’s so kind of you, thank you.” She took the boxes and headed over to what you assumed the kitchen was. It was crazy to think that the earthquakes happened a while back and there were so many people here.

A big board sat to the side, thick with missing posters. Some people with waiting for others to come home, some waiting for their homes to come back, and others had nowhere and nothing but this place and the people in it.

Your name being called pulled you out of your trance. Turning you saw a familiar face, “Robin, hi. How’s it going?” you smiled.

“Great, it’s good to see you. What are you doing here?”

“Just come to drop off some food, how about you?”

“Oh Vickie is one of the people in charge here, I help out on my days off. Have you met her?” she asked.

“Briefly. The night we went out, she came to pick you up.”

“Ah, explains why I can’t remember. Can I defend myself and say I don’t always get like that,” she laughed awkwardly.

“Trust me, shots don’t sit right with me either.”

Smiling in comfort now, “Well I need to get off, I’m hoping to catch Wayne before he leave the mechanics,” you explained.

“Your car in trouble again?”

“No, nothing like that. Just need to discuss something with him.”

“Oh well if he isn’t there he lives in Forest Hills, near the edge of town.”

“The trailer park?” Humming, Robin answered, “Yeah even though he has the mechanics he never wants to move.”

“Right well thanks, I’ll see you soon. Hopefully we can hang out and I can meet Vickie properly,” you spoke, not in the sarcastic way where you never actually want to meet up, sincerely you did.

“I hope so, I think Steve’s having a big barbecue like to celebrate the end of Summer or something.”

“Sounds like Steve. I’ll see you.” Waving goodbye you headed back to your car.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

There was no luck at the mechanics, and you wouldn’t have time during the week or tomorrow. You had to go and buy stock and sort out some changes to the menu.

It felt a bit strange driving to the Wayne’s home, you hated showing up uninvited, but you needed to apologise and make sure he knew it wasn’t meant maliciously.

You drove through, not really sure where to go. Slowing down by a middle aged man, you opened your window. “Excuse me,” you spoke, attempting not to make him jump.

“Yeah?”

“Do you know where Wayne Munson lives?”

“Who’s asking?” he asked almost cautiously. “Oh uh, a client? A friend?” you told him your name.

“Right,” he grunted, “He lives on the back of the park, you’ll see his car. Just keep driving. Watch yourself.” You looked at him confused. “You say you’re a friend of the Munsons, be careful Honey, that might not be friends you’re wanting.”

“Right. Thanks for you help,” you said, rolling up the window and continuing on your way. How strange.

He was right, the man, you spotted Wayne’s car. The trailer seemed to be set further back than the others. Isolated almost.

You picked up the box of turn overs and headed to the door, tapping on it twice. “Just coming!” a voice shouted. A familiar face appeared around the door. “Hey Honey! What are you doing here?” Wayne asked.

“I was just wondering if we could talk? I brought some Cherry turnovers,” you motioned to the box in your hand. “Well you’ve twisted my arm, come on in,” he joked.

“Sweet tea?” he asked.

“Please,” you smiled.

“You take a seat, I’ll get us some drinks and plates.” You did so, sitting on a beige couch with floral patterning on it.

A maroon arm chair sat in the corner, you could only assume that was Waynes chair. Mugs and caps covered the walls, all unique, not one even remotely similar to another.

“Here you go Honey,” he smiled, placing the glass in front of you and the plate. He took out one of the turnovers and split it with a knife, giving you half. “Thank you,” you smiled to him.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to visit your shop yet, everyone’s travelling back from vacation. Cars are overheating and breaking down left right and centre.”

“It’s alright,” you told him, taking a sip of the tea. It was amazing.

“Oh wow,” you spoke.

“It’s good isn’t it?” he laughed.

“It’s delicious!”

“Maybe one day’ll give you the recipe and you can sell it in that shop of yours.”

“That would be great.”

“So what did we need to talk about?” he asked, taking a bite of the sweet treat and humming in delight. “Well I … I’m sorry if I offended you, that was never my intention Mr Munson.”

“Offend me? Honey how could you offend me?”

“When I, when I gave Eddie the money for my car he came back. I didn’t mean to upset him or you, I was just trying to be nice and say thank you I swear.”

“Why did Eddie come back?”

“Cause I left you a tip.”

“Oh Honey, that’s so generous, but you don’t need to do that for us.”

“It was just meant to be a thank you I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“You didn’t. It’s just Eddie being cautious. I was wondering where that extra $65 came from.”

“I am sorry Mr Munson.”

“Stop apologising, you didn’t do nothing wrong and the names Wayne. You can use it.” You nodded, taking another sip of your drink. “I just wanted to say sorry that’s why I came here. When I see Eddie I’ll say sorry to him too. I was rude to him.”

“Probably deserved it, he gets snappy when his guards up. Don’t take it personal, he’ll warm up to you. The whole towns already chatting up a storm about you.”

“You don’t say?”

“Mhm so many of the boys at the shop are talking about Callie’s lovely niece.”

“Well that’s very kind of them.”

“It’s true, you seem lovely-“ A door in the trailer opened and another voice came, “You taking to yourself old man?”

You could hear the smile in his tone as he walked down the hall to find you and Wayne sat drinking tea and chatting like old friends.

Eddie Munson stood there, in all his glory. No shirt, towel around his waist, curly hair dripping on the floor. You could see the panic in his face, not understanding why at first, but then you saw them.

They were all over his body.

They covered him.

Scars.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

A/N : OH SHIT

Thank you so much for reading 🤍

Taglist : @corrodedseraphine @flawiette @witchwolflea @emxxblog

let me know if you want to be added

[hms-no-fun]

i just want you to know that i read... i think Most of godfeels and had to stop because i was not enjoying it. but i think its really good and i really respect what you do. i think it's all too easy for people to mix up "this is not my cup of tea" with "this is bad and/or problematic". they dont take the time to see the artistry in it, why it is what it is, what it might be saying beyond their surface level read and the kneejerk reaction to it.

i also wanted to note that ive always been kind of scared of sharing fanworks for fear of writing "out of character" - and ive also even been afraid of it in original works. character isn't real and concrete, so anyone can decide something's out of character. so your exploration of that concept gives me more confidence as a writer. i really appreciate that and everything else you do. :)

thank you so much for this message! i'm glad you tapped out rather than force your way through something you weren't enjoying, that's a very mature response and something i wish more folks would recognize as a perfectly valid option. in fact i think pushing through and reading long after you've given up on the material, so to speak, is a great way to wind up angry at a writer for having "forced" you to endure such a trying experience. as i've said before, an author can't force you to do anything. you can close the book any time you like.

as far as the tension of "in character/out of character" goes, i think a lot of people in fandom struggle with the fact that "character" is very much in the eye of the beholder. sub-groups form within fandoms based on identities, politics, sexual predilections, etc, and typically gather around the fire that is their particular interpretation of a character. but from within that sub-group, it's rarely considered "an interpretation" so much as the obvious intended truth of the text. it's that intoxicating mood of finding people who share a perspective you rarely see elsewhere, like oh my god, you GET it, finally someone GETS it!

in homestuck fandom, for instance, quite a lot of people hate vriska and think she sucks, with a vocal sub-group of that sub-group still actively beating the drum that everything about her arc after [S] Game Over is the worst part of homestuck. but i love vriska, and my corner of the fandom very much organized around a full-throated defense of her. some folks think homestuck did tavros and gamzee dirty and that this is a fatal flaw in the text; when i countenance these people, i am convinced we read two very different comics. who's right and who's wrong? there are degrees. i can pull out any number of quotes from andrew hussie about the importance of vriska and the weenieness of tavros, but then, authors love to say things, and there's plenty of stories i love in ways that directly oppose to the authors' stated intent. the debate can never end because we are only ever talking about the version of a character or story that exists in our heads, based on the things that stuck with us when we read the thing (however long ago that was-- which is important because i find a LOT of people adamantly defending their headcanons haven't read the source text in a number of years. as time passes, your perception of the media you've experienced in the past morphs and distorts. someone who was right five years ago can be wrong today and not even notice the difference).

something i've realized in the last year is how much godfeels emerged from a very specific milieu, not just in terms of how we interpreted certain characters but in our approach to analyzing and talking about the text altogether. i believe most of the important stuff in godfeels is "in character" in most of the ways that matter, but it's built on a very specific meta that centered vrisrezi and transness and radical leftist politics and experimental hypertext. really, it's a post-Epilogues fanwork even despite the fact that godfeels 1 predates their release by a few weeks. and i think to this day a lot of homestuck fans haven't read the epilogues but have read fandom posts about how terrible they are (quite a lot of which will have either been written by teens, by people who already didn't like homestuck very much, or by one of the regressive stalkery weirdos prominent in the homestuck reddit/discord), and that misapprehension keeps them in the dark about just how many amazing tools the epilogues introduce to the homestuck formula that exponentially expand the expressive possibilities of attentive fanworks. and it of course elides the fact that the homestuck epilogues are a story about being in your 30s. i think we'll be getting a big re-appraisal of the epilogues in 5-10 years. it'll be the "twin peaks: fire walk with me" of homestuck, just you wait.

so these readers see my version of dirk being an unhinged murderous dick to a newly-out trans woman and go "he would never do that." then if i point at the epilogues, they'll say "i didn't read them/they're not even canon/that wasn't in character either." at which point there's nothing really to say, because we have two completely different perceptions of the text. who's right and who's wrong is almost always infinitely subjective, a circumstance that humans are notable for being very good at handling in a mature and politely discursive manner.

so i've got an "author's introduction" to godfeels baking in my docs to provide some context about the meta this story is built on, the milieu it came out of, that sort of thing. it won't make much of a difference in practical terms, but it'll at least be something i can point to.

in any event, thanks for this message. all i ever want is for people to give it an honest shot. i hope you can continue harvesting confidence from wherever it can be found. it takes a lot of audacity and backbone to be an artist, especially when you have something worthwhile to say. remember that you're not writing for the haters, you're writing for the kind of person, like you, who wants to see more stories like the thing you're writing. they're the ones who'll get it, they're the ones who'll stick around long after the haters have lost interest.

[v-anrouge]

This is a queued post and it includes talks about transphobia and mentions of self harm and eating disorders

Im here to talk and announce a break, first thing's first j relapsed, in literally like everything sh ed and didn't try to kill myself is because of a few people and the fact my pills ended. For a very long time in this blog u have not been feeling like human, it's like most of you don't even actually like and just come talk to me when im being funny and fun or when i post something rook related that you like, ive really been trying to get rid of that feeling but it keeps on coming back and it's unbearable to be in this blog at this point. this situation with Shiba only really confirmed it for me, I saw about like 4 mutuals referring to this as drama, and complaining about seeing it on dash and while obviously you have all the rights to be displeased with a constant show of negativity in your dash, i beg of you to try and think how i, a trans man, must feel seeing you refer to me and other mutuals calling out transphobia and have to read you refer to this as drama and not as a literal crime. I understand if you got annoyed by me talking about it constantly and to that i ask that you please block me, because i have been literally beaten, bullied, harassed and even doxxed by transphobes, I do not take anything that displays even a bit of prejudice against my trans siblings lightly, hence why i was so "histerical and obsessed" and was being so "stupid and acting like an idiot" as someone people would claim. I do not care what view you have of me i really don't, im used to this shit, ive been trans and alive in the most transphobic country for 20 years, it's no news, but it still hurts. And it hurts even more when I see someone say i was an idiot for blocking someone immediately and calling them out when they side with a transphobe, and it hurts even more when I see a person i thought liked me complain about "drama still going on" rest assured that i won't be "bitching" about it any longer

For soru, who cant possibly process why i have blocked you, your take on that situation and your friend have both brought me terrible flashbacks of my own past as a child dealing with transphobia, of being told people like me are sick and are the seeds of the devil and that we are animals or that there's something wrong with us, like your friend said, their apology is both not genuine and extremely poorly made as they still can't accept the fact that yes, they are transphobic, and you soru, can't imagine how it broke my soul to see your post saying you had given them a chance, but seeing the post you made after, in which you literally agree with your mother you should've stayed away from trans people, that's what broke me the most, and j couldn't even speak about it, because it's "too negative" or im "drama chasing" im sick of this, you can hate and insult me all you want soru rest assured you're not the only one you're not the first nor the last one, maybe this will come off as a surprise to the people that are sure im obsessed with drama and chasing people around but i genuinely did have a lot of respect for you, if the hours ive spent crying over this say anything at all, it's sad that this had to end this way, but not for me, I don't care, this isn't the first or the last time this happens to me, but to my mutuals who i am very sure many are angry that i have made this situation happen, perhaps i should've stayed quiet and keep being funny as people like me best, well it is too late, but i hope that you'll forgive me mutuals, for once again ruining something good.

I don't know how long this break will last or if ill ever even return to this account at all, but i sincerely thank the ones that did treat me like a human, as an equal, that actually saw the person behind v-anrouge. you can't possibly believe how much you mean to me

That's about it, do have a great day

[ravenromanova]

Is It Really You? Pt. 2

Pairings: Other universe Wanda x Female reader

Warnings? none

Summary: y/n goes to her house in the other universe only to be met with her wife and kids? how did this happen? is she dreaming? 

part 1

your pov:

"(y/n)? is it really you?" Wanda says coming up to me and she puts her hand on my cheek and i take a step back

" Mom?" i turn and look at Billy and Tommy as their eyes fill with tears

" How are you here?" Wanda asks me confused and i give her the same look of confusion.

" What do you mean how am i here? how are you here? how did you get here? you were fighting strange when i got sucked into the blue light. ho-how are the boys here? where the hell are we Wanda?" I ask ask my heartbeat quickens and i can feel the start of a panic attack coming on. how are the boys here? This makes no sense.

" (y/n) come sit down please and i can try to explain as best as possible... i had a feeling this would happen." Wanda speaks softly as she grabs my hand and leads me over to the couch where the boys are sitting. When i sit down both the boys jump on top of me hugging me as tight as the possibly could.

" We never thought we would see you again mama. please don't leave us again. we missed you so much." Billy says taking my face into both of his small hands his eyes red from the tears running down his face.

"I-i wont leave you again baby i promise. but i don't even know where i am or how i got here. the last thing i remember was you coming in and trying to take the girl-" I slowly stopped my sentence when i saw the look in Wandas eyes... She looked almost ashamed at what i was saying.

" Let me try and explain what happened." She takes my hands in hers and looks in my eyes almost sorrowful but i can see a little glimmer of happiness in her eyes. She puts her hands on my temples and closes her eyes and suddenly i can see everything thats happened. My Wanda hurting countless amounts of people. She was causing absolute chaos. Then just when i think its over i see my Wanda come through a red portal as billy and tommy run away and hide from the woman that just burst into their home. Suddenly the other Wanda comes up to mine after being thrown around. My Wanda is on her knees crying when the other Wanda puts her hand on her cheek and says softly

" Know that they'll be loved." After she says that my Wanda disappears into thin air. And the other Wanda runs to the boys.

Wanda takes her hands off my temples and i stare at her in disbelief. I take a few moments before i finally find the words to say.

" So- so you aren't gonna hurt me?" I ask and my voice betrays me by cracking as i try and speak

" No darling i could never hurt you. i love you too much to ever put you in harms way." Wanda says softly and i look into her eyes to see if she's lying. I search and search into her eyes trying to really see if i can trust her. But as i'm looking into them i see the soul of the woman i fell in love with. I can see the softness in her eyes, its the way she looked at me on our wedding day. It's the look she had in her eyes the first time we said "i love you". I can see in her eyes she means me no harm. I think back to what they all said walked in. What did they mean when they said they never thought they'd see me again?

" When i walked in you all looked they you've seen a ghost and said you thought you'd never see me again.. what did you mean?" I asked extremely confused

" The (y/n) in this universe died.. 3 years ago in a bad car crash." Wanda say tearfully.

" You were in the icu for 2 months before the doctors finally said there wasn't any hope for recovery. you suffered a really bad brain injury that lead to extreme brain swelling that they couldn't get to go down at all, along with a broken spinal cord, 6 cracked ribs, and a broken arm and leg. i tried to keep you alive as long as possible but the doctors said i was just gonna end up doing you more harm then good because you had no quality of life left. it was the hardest thing iv'e ever had to do." She croaks out before she starts full on sobbing. I get off the couch and sit in front of her on my knees. I put my finger underneath her chin and have her eyes meet mine. I take a moment to take in all her beauty. I know i don't know this Wanda but i want to. Clearly she means no harm to anyone or else billy and tommy wouldn't be here.

" i'm here now my love. i know i'm a different (y/n) and i know its not the same but i'm here now and i promise i wont ever leave you or the boys again. it might just take me a little to adjust from everything thats happened with my universes Wanda. i know you mean no harm but after what just happened i just need a little time." I spoke truthfully. don't get me wrong i trust this Wanda for some reason but i need to make sure the Scarlett witch wont influence this Wanda like she did mine.

" (y/n) ill do anything on my power to show you how much i love you. but i understand where you are coming from. i understand seeing me like that wether it was this me or the other me you still saw the woman you love try and hurt you along with thousands of other people to get what she wants. no one should go through such a thing my darling (y/n)" Her sokovian accent came off really thick on the last sentence and i smile lightly at her words.

" I love you (y/n) no matter what universe you're from and i'll prove it to you til the end of time." She says kissing my forehead and i smile at her touch... gods i've missed this.

" Come on boys its bed time let's go get ready." She says after a few minutes go by and the boys give me a quick hug and kiss before heading upstairs.

" Goodnight mama" They say as they run to go get ready for bed

" Goodnight my loves. i'll see you in the morning i promise." I say blowing them both a kiss. Maybe i can get used to this universe. I have everything i've ever wanted within my reach. My wife and my children. What more can a girl ask for.

i do not give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on another site

series masterlist

masterlist

[humanpurposes]

My Heart Belongs to Daddy, part iv, modern!Aemond

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist // For fear that you'll find out, how I'm imagining you

modern!Aemond x step-daughter

Warnings: 18+, smut, cursed dinner party, toxic family dynamics, Targaryen men being the worst

Words: 5700

A/n: Also available to read on AO3. And I made a Series Playlist :)

Over the last two months, finishing her thesis, taking exams, sending off masters applications and keeping track of a boyfriend has left little room in her mind for Aemond Targaryen.

For the last month or so she’s hardly even seen him. On the weekdays she gets up early and spends all day in the library. On the weekends she goes to Cregan’s place in central. He goes to the gym with Jace on Saturday morning and on Sundays he usually has a rugby match. Between that they watch movies in his room, go for drinks with his friends and sometimes she drags him around her favourite museums. 

The sex is good. For a bulky guy with a nose piercing and sleeve tattoos of wolves and weirwood trees, Cregan is surprisingly gentle. He makes her cum on his tongue, then he leans over to fuck her with his hands pressed into the mattress, looking between her eyes and the space where their bodies meet. He doesn’t say much, a few strained “oh Gods” and a grunted “fuck” when he comes. When they’re done he falls into the bed beside her, throwing an arm around her while he rambles about whatever happens to be on his mind, exams, internships, summer plans…

She’s happy to rest her head against him, listening to the humming of his chest as he speaks, letting it lull her as she slips into her own mind. Sometimes she still feels a little empty when it’s over and doesn’t have the energy to go for another round. She puts it down to stress. Or hormones. Or something. 

Now, being on the other side of everything she realises time is passing too quickly for her liking. 

Joan Jett blasts through the car speakers while Alys and Cregan go on about the season finale of some drama series she’s not kept up with.

Alys loves Cregan. Everyone loves Cregan because he’s a people person. He speaks to everyone he meets like they’re already lifelong friends and he has a remarkable talent for finding common interests. If she were cynical she would say he’s palatable.

The weather has been perfect so far, bright and sunny but with enough of a breeze that the heat isn’t unbearable. Ideal for the graduation ceremony.

She looks through the recent photos in her phone. She took a few nice ones of the Sept, the nave lined with columns and towering statues of the Seven watching over the cohort of students in red and black robes. She keeps swiping through photos of her and some of her classmates on the front steps tossing their hats in the air, a few of her and Joanna, one of her and Cregan, and one of her and Alys. 

Sometimes she thinks she looks nothing like her mother, but when they smile they look strikingly similar.

Everything had paid off in the end, the study dates with Joanna, the all-nighters, the last minute breakdowns crying over the kitchen counter with Alys. But she’s proud that she did it all on her own. Especially given how helpful Aemond had been last year. Just thinking about it makes her heart sink.

He’d been living with them for a few months by then. They were comfortable with each other, existing in the same spaces, eating dinner and watching movies together when Alys was out or working late. 

Sometimes he’d put his arm around the back of the sofa, letting her lean into him while they watched 90s thrillers, leaning into her every so often to make a joke or a profound observation. They could analyse movies forever, staying up late until their eyes were tired, leaning in closer and closer and never really realising it.

And then when exams came around, the stress just got to her. “It’s half the suffering,” Alys insisted, “you’re not doing yourself any favours, so don’t do it.” Easier said than done. 

There was one particular module on Conflicts in the Modern Era that was chipping away at her sanity. It was her last exam of the year and every time she went over her notes she just felt hopeless.

Aemond offered to help her study. He had loads of notes and old assignments on his laptop from his undergrad and his masters. They spent hours in the dining room, going over readings and practice questions.

He would sit next to her, leaning over every so often to read through what she was working on. Every hand on her shoulder, every reassuring “hmm,” or utterance of “good girl,” when she got something right sent shivers down her spine.

She knew it was wrong, but she didn’t exactly want it to stop.

The exam ended up going a lot better than she anticipated. She opened the paper and instantly saw that, by some miracle, there were a few questions similar to the ones she had done with Aemond.

She came home ecstatic. Alys was at work but Aemond was home, loitering in the kitchen. She practically leapt into his arms when she saw him, telling him every detail she could think of with a huge smile on her face.

Aemond’s hands settled on her waist. He leaned into her until all she could see were his bright, blue eyes. “I’m so proud of you baby,” he said in a voice that made her breathless.

He leaned in further until his lips were on hers, soft and warm, kissing her tentatively. She thought it might be over quickly, until she reached up, teasing her fingertips over the nape of his neck while his grip on her waist tightened, pulling her closer, kissing her deeper.

When they pulled away, both a little breathless, he rested his forehead against her and smiled. She smiled back.

But she snaps out of that trance when she realises they’re pulling into the driveway.

She looks across at Alys for a moment, laughing at something Cregan just said.

Her chest feels like it might crush under the weight of it all, but time presses on and things seem to be moving forward for the better. She’s happy with Cregan. Who wouldn’t be? He’s funny, smart, maybe a little over confident at times but she can forgive that. And she’s got the whole summer before she starts her masters. With Cregan in the picture she figured she might as well stay at KLU. He’s been trying to convince her to move in the flat with him. There’s no reason not to, it’s close to campus, his flatmates are nice and they seem to keep the place clean. She keeps saying she’ll think about it.

He reaches for her hand as Alys leads them through the front door.

The house looks immaculate and it fills her with dread. 

Alys has decided to use her graduation as an opportunity to host a family dinner. Maybe she’s intending it to be a grand offering of peace, maybe she just wants to show off, or maybe she’s just lost her mind because putting two halves of a warring family in the same room seems like a disaster waiting to happen. Not to mention she’ll have to introduce everyone to Cregan. 

The dreamy rhythm of a Mazzy Star song drifts from the kitchen. Aemond is leaning over the counter, in a black shirt with his sleeves rolled up, prepping a rack of lamb. She tries not to look at his hands as he takes pinches of salt, pepper and spices between his fingers.

Alys heads straight for the vodka, offering a round of martinis before the dreaded guests arrive.

She and Cregan both decline politely, and when Alys turns to Aemond he purses his lips. “I don’t drink vodka martinis.”

Alys rolls her eyes. “Thinks he’s so sophisticated,” she says to Cregan. 

Cregan chuckles and plants a light kiss to her cheek, muttering about taking a shower and disappears down the hall.

Her eyes meet Aemond’s for a moment. He smiles sincerely. He’s playing one of her favourite songs.

She tells her mother she’s going to get dressed, and feels Aemond’s eyes following her as she heads upstairs.

When she gets to her room she puts her graduation robes on a hanger and lies on the bed in the black slip dress she wore underneath. Something’s pressing awkwardly into her back, Cregan’s jeans and t-shirt. She tosses them across the room and falls back against the mattress, staring at the ceiling and listening to the hum of the shower.

Is it unfair to hate someone for listening to a song? Did he remember it was her favourite or was it a lucky guess? Maybe he was trying to tease her, or else it could have just been a coincidence, but that doesn’t seem like him. Aemond rarely does anything accidentally.

Cregan saunters in with a towel around his hips. He looks down at his clothes on the floor in front of the door. “Not where I left them,” he mutters.

She pretends not to hear him.

He gets dressed quickly, all he has to do is put on his jeans and clean white shirt. 

“How many people are coming tonight?” He asks, spraying some perfume on his pulse points.

She keeps her eyes on the ceiling. “Viserys, Alicent, Rhaenyra, Daemon, Jace, Baela, Aegon and Helaena.” Luke and Rhaena were going to stay home with Joffrey, and Daeron would still be in Sunspear until the end of the month. Just as well, there would already be too many people to keep track of.

“I hear some of the family stuff from Jace,” Cregan says, “sounds like a mess.”

She hums to herself. “Oh, you have no idea.”

She takes her hair out of its low bun and fixes it into a more casual look, leaving it mostly loose but out of her face. Her makeup has managed to survive the day pretty well. She touches up her blush and wipes away her lipstick, applying a sweet tasting cherry lipbalm instead.

When they reappear in the kitchen Alys is nowhere to be found but Aegon and Helaena have already arrived. 

Aegon and Cregan pair up nicely, swigging bottles of beer while Aemond pours out three gin and tonics.

She compliments Helaena’s patterned skirt and red boots. In return she admires her dress. “You two are matching,” she says, as Aemond hands them both their drinks.

He raises his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth are tight. “Happy coincidence.”

“Black’s not exactly a fashion statement,” she adds, taking a sip. 

Aemond hums in agreement.

She takes a breath to relieve the tension in her shoulders. “How are you doing?” She asks Helaena, “didn’t get much of a chance to talk to you at the wedding.”

Helaena’s doing a PhD in Etymology at Highgarden, between that and her various art projects she seems happy, but something’s off. She’s never exactly been outgoing but she seems particularly timid, wide eyes darting constantly to Aemond and Aegon. She’s nervous, but in all fairness they all are. Or they should be.

While Helaena goes on about species of butterflies, she finds her attention almost completely on Aemond, his hand gripping his glass in the corner of her eye, the sound of his breath, those well timed hums and the smell of his aftershave. She takes another sip of her drink to steady her nerves, hoping neither of them notice her hand trembling as she brings the glass to her lips. 

Eventually Alys waltzes in with Rhaenyra, Daemon, Baela and Jace following behind her. That seems like a good opportunity to escape. She goes to hug Jace and Baela, and follows them when they go to stand with Aegon and Cregan. 

The tension is palpable, Alys having a stiff conversation with Rhaenyra, Daemon lurking at the edge of the room with a glass of whisky, and Jace stealing glances over her shoulder, at Aemond and Helaena.

She catches whispers of their conversation but nothing tangible. 

“What’s your problem?” Baela hisses to Jace. 

He tuts. “He’s staring daggers at me, fuck’s sake.”

Aegon’s lips thin. He excuses himself curtly and joins his siblings by the glass doors to the garden. 

Their little group falls to an uneasy silence. 

“Well done, dickhead,” Baela says, rolling her eyes.

Cregan gives her a confused look. She puts her hand on his shoulder and comes onto her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “I’ll show you the powerpoint presentation later.”

Somehow the mood only gets colder when Viserys and Alicent walk through the door. It’s almost pitiful, watching Rhaenyra and Daemon trying to win his attention while Alicent keeps her hand on her husband’s shoulder, muttering into his ear whenever she can.

Not speaking to Aemond has meant she’s mostly been out of the loop, but she can guess they’ve not moved past the dispute over Viserys’ will.

Helaena and Aegon both go to greet their parents. It’s cordial at best, light hugs and pecks on the cheek, and Viserys shakes Aegon’s hand like this is the first time they’ve met. Aemond doesn’t go near them.

The lack of warmth is only more noticeable when Viserys greets Jace and Baela with open arms and a pleasant smile. He hugs her too, congratulating her— after all that is why they’re here— and shakes Cregan’s hand firmly.

She catches Aegon’s eye over his father’s shoulder. He frowns, almost comically and goes to find another bottle of beer.

Before long Alys ushers them all into the dining room.

Alys and Viserys sit at the two heads of the table and the others fill in around them. When they see Alicent has taken the seat to Viserys’ right, Rhaenyra and Daemon move to the other end of the table. Helaena sits next to her dad and they both smile vaguely. Aemond, rather diplomatically, takes a central seat between Aegon and Rhaenyra. 

In an attempt to avoid sitting across from either of his uncles, Jace settles next to Alys, and once Cregan sits next to him, the only free seat is directly opposite Aemond. She sits down without a fuss.

Once everyone is a bit more settled, Aemond and Alys go back to the kitchen to bring in small plates of salad and seared tuna.

It starts off with smalltalk. Cregan and Jace are muttering to each other on her left, while Baela and Helaena have a friendly catch up to her right, leaving her to prod at her starter, waiting for an appetite to appear.

She doesn’t dare to look up past the space in front of her plate, or the pair of eyes she can feel burning into her.

Once they’re finished, the plates are whisked away and Aemond presents them with lamb chops, fondant potatoes and summer greens, while Alys pours out glasses of red wine. 

Viserys’ knife scratches against his plate as he carves into the meat. “Really excellent lamb, Alys.”

“Aemond did the food,” she says.

He pauses, looks down at his plate and carries on eating.

She hears Jace whispering something into Cregan’s ear and they both grunt in amusement.

“Something funny?” Aegon asks sharply, reaching for his glass.

She finally looks across the table. Aegon’s face is a dangerous mix of anger and anticipation.

“Just admiring Aemond’s culinary skills,” Jace muses, spearing a cut of lamb on his fork, “didn’t realise he’d gone domestic.”

“Jacaerys,” Rhaenyra hisses.

Aegon huffs but keeps his mouth shut with a stern look from Aemond.

Viserys’ attention suddenly latches onto his grandson. The rest of the table falls quiet while he asks Jace about his exam results. 65 average. Just a few marks off a first.

Aegon nudges his brother but Aemond doesn’t react. 

Their father seems to notice. “Jacaerys is shadowing me for the summer,” he says pointedly. 

Aegon finishes off his glass and immediately refills it.

“Not coming to Dragonstone, then?” Helaena pipes up in a brighter tone, leaning to look at Jace.

The ancestral home of the Targaryen family, a beautiful estate along the coast outside the city. It’s more of a castle than a house really, passed down the generations over centuries. They use it as a holiday home now.

She went with the Strongs one summer. Ten weeks of beach trips, reading by the pool and fresh seafood for dinner every evening. It was the first time she really remembers meeting the Targaryen siblings. Aemond seemed so quiet then, always with his nose in a book. It feels like a lifetime ago now. 

Cregan’s voice in her ear takes her by surprise. “You alright?” He asks, stroking his hand along the silky black fabric on her thigh. “You looked a bit lost there for a moment.”

She can see Aemond looking at her in the corner of her eye. “I’m fine,” she says, pushing Cregan’s hand away.

“We’re just a little busy at the moment,” Rhaenyra says, “work is… hectic.”

Alicent visibly bristles. 

“Might make it down for a few weeks, if the boss lets me off,” Jace says.

“I’m excited to have you,” Viserys says, “good to get him used to the order of things nice and early.”

“Yeah, amazing what you can do when you have everything handed to you on a silver fucking platter,” Aegon says, casually taking a long draw from his glass.

Alicent and Rhaenyra look horrified. Daemon and Viserys are both clenching their fists. 

“He says as if Otto Hightower didn’t have to buy him a place at KLU,” Jace retorts.

Aegon shrugs. “So what if he did? Got the degree, didn’t I?”

“And what have you done with it?” Viserys says in a scathing voice, “bought a flat with my money. Drank and screwed your way through life with no concern for your career or your family.”

Aegon tuts. “The fuck does that mean, family?”

“Leave it,” Aemond mutters and the table settles into an uncomfortable quiet.

“At least Jace has some direction,” Viserys says, breaking the silence. For a moment his eyes dart to his wife.

Alicent’s brown eyes are wide and glassy. “And my children don’t?”

She watches Aemond’s lips flicker into a sneer before he composes himself and goes back to staring vacantly at his untouched glass.

“That’s not what I meant, love–”

Daemon chuckles quietly. “And yet…”

Alicent slams her knife against the table with a jarring clatter. “Maybe they would have amounted to something more if you had shown even the slightest bit of interest in your own children!”

A chair scrapes against the floor and Helaena’s silver hair billows behind her as she leaves the dining room.

Baela grabs her wrist and pulls her to stand. “Excuse us,” she says sweetly. Not that anyone will hear her over the shouting match brewing between Alicent and Daemon.

They find Helaena in the lounge, on the sofa, picking at her nails.

“Hey,” Baela whispers, coming to hold her hands so she stops.

Helaena looks up at them with glistening blue eyes and a trembling lip. It’s the first time she’s really seen the resemblance between her and Alicent.

Raised voices echo from down the hall. By the sounds of things Aegon and Viserys have joined in too.

Helaena releases her hands from Baela’s and presses her palms to her forehead. “I’m sorry,” she says, taking a few shallow gasps. “I just don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

Baela hums in agreement.

Tears start to trickle from her eyes. “I used to love hanging out with you and Jace and everyone. I don’t understand… what did we do wrong?”

She isn’t sure what to do. She feels so helpless just watching Helaena as she starts to cry. Baela sits next to her and puts her arm around her shoulders.

And while the arguing persists, Helaena eventually starts to calm down a little, wiping her tears on her sleeve and leaning into Baela. “We missed dessert,” she sighs.

“We have ice-cream in the freezer,” she says, “strawberry or vanilla?”

And just like that her face lights up. “Both.”

“Noted. Baela?”

Baela smiles sympathetically. “Strawberry please.”

She catches fragments of the insults being thrown around the dining room as she walks past. “Hightower leech”, “spoiled cunt”.

She sees a figure in a black shirt through the frosted glass door to the kitchen. She holds her breath as she opens the door.

Aemond is leaning over the counter, fiddling with a packet of cigarettes. He looks up as soon as he hears the door. She lets it close behind her and leans against it.

He stares at her with a tight jaw, a sad little pout on his lips and a slight scrunch in his nose. Despite everything she can’t help but feel sorry for him. 

She tuts to herself and goes to place two bowls and two spoons on the counter, avoiding Aemond’s gaze.

Not my problem.

She goes towards the freezer and hears Aemond sigh heavily behind her. She hovers her hand over the handle.

Not my problem. Not my problem. Not my problem.

“Is it stupid of me to ask if you’re alright?” She asks, turning to fave him.

One of his wide plams is pressed against the counter, his legs crossed casually at the ankle. “No.” 

“And are you alright?”

His nostrils flare as he takes a slow breath. “I told her this would be a bad idea,” he says, tapping the box against the counter. “But what do I know, it’s only my fucking family.”

The way the light shines on his face makes the scar over his left eye seem like a shadow. She’s never asked about the details of what happened, but then he doesn’t like to talk about it. 

Two months ago she would have held his hand or pulled him into her arms when he was this anxious.

But things have changed now.

“Aemond, I–”

“Babe?”

She whips her head round to see Cregan and Jace standing in the doorway. Guilt twinges in her chest and she doesn’t know why. A conversation is nothing to be ashamed of, surely? She hadn’t even heard the door open. 

“Baela and Helaena are in the lounge, right?” Cregan asks.

“Yeah,” she says, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

They both glare at Aemond before they leave. When she turns to face him, he’s looking back with a cold indifference.

“He seems nice,” Aemond says once they're gone. “Palatable.”

She starts to drag her teeth over her bottom lip but stops herself. Aemond’s eyes are so intense, glaring from across the room with a dangerous look of fury and sadness. That’s exactly how he looked at her, the night of the wedding, when they were in her hotel room. When he asked her about Cregan then she liked how it made him jealous. 

Her blood starts to simmer, a feeling that cuts deeper and hurts more than hate. “Is this it then?” She says.

His brows scrunch into a frown, but his wide eyes seem more bewildered than anything. “What do you mean?”

It’s like a switch clicks in her brain and something in her heart dies. These last few weeks, even with things going so well with Cregan, she’s carried Aemond with her, hoping that one day she’d wake up and things would have worked out differently. It’s what she’s been doing for the last year anyway, she just never managed to break the habit.

It has to end somewhere, the lying, the guilt, and the naivety that she meant something more to him than a pretty face and a convenient fuck. 

She needs to let go and she’s known that for a long time.

“Forget it. You’ve made your side of things clear,” she says, her voice starting to tremble. “This was never going to end well and I should have thought about that before I led myself on.”

She takes a step towards the door but he’s in front of her, keeping her between the freezer and the counter.

“Do you love him?” Aemond mutters, quickly and quietly.

She can feel her heart beating in her throat.

“Do I… what?”

He takes advantage of her hesitation. His hand clamps around her wrist as he moves to the door. It takes a few moments to realise he’s dragging her with him.

The door to the lounge is shut. She hears Cregan’s booming laugh on the other side as Aemond leads her further along the hallway.

And suddenly they’re in the downstairs bathroom. She stands in front of the sink, staring at her own reflection as the lock clicks.

She watches Aemond in the mirror. The room is small and narrow, even when he’s standing by the door he’s close. Then he starts to close the distance between them with slow, taunting steps until he’s standing over her.

She can feel him and smell his aftershave, the bitterness of gin and the sweetness of red wine.

There’s that dark look in his eye again, determined, and hungry.

“Did you really think I’d let you keep up this pathetic little act?” He murmurs, eyes fixed on hers through the glass.

“What act?” 

She lets out a little gasp when he places a hand on her hip and pushes his hips against her, grinding a growing hardness against her so subtly he might not be moving at all.

He leans into her but no part of him makes contact with her skin. She shudders at the heat of his breath running over her ear, neck and shoulders. “I said you were needy, didn’t I?”

Her shoulders flinch when a single fingertip touches the nape of her neck. He draws it gradually along her spine as she desperately resists the urge to cry out at the tingling sensation it brings, arching against him because her body has nowhere else to go.

“And so sensitive,” he says and stops just as he reaches her lower back. “It was all for me, wasn’t it? The crop tops, the staring, even Stark, you just wanted a reaction.”

She’s always been a good liar but when she opens her mouth to reply she finds she just can’t do it. She doesn’t want to, not when he places his hand on her side and traces over the curves of her waist, her hips, the pouch of her stomach and her thighs. It’s been so long since they’ve been this close, and it’s not close enough.

“You stopped wanting me,” she breathes.

“Stupid little slut,” he says, leaning his chin over her shoulder. He starts dragging both hands down her thighs, taking the hem of her dress with him as he moves back up. “How could I ever stop wanting you?” His voice is harsh and hypnotic all at once. Cold and unforgiving. It sets her skin alight and leaves her wanting more.

But it doesn’t make sense. He was the one who left the hotel room. 

“I don’t understand… this isn’t fair.”

“But you and I both know you don’t like to play fair,” he rasps, tracing circles over the tops of her thighs, occasionally brushing over the hem of her panties.“I just know these last couple of months have been fucking unbearable without you.”

She bites down on her lip to stop herself whimpering at his touch.

He groans as his head falls against her neck, hands still pawing at her legs and the dress hitched around her waist. “Let me fuck you,” he utters in that low voice that means it’s taking every ounce of effort to hold himself back. “I know what you need. Just be a good girl and let me fuck you.”

Anticipation floods her body. She can feel her self-control slipping. She can’t think straight, can’t think past him or a world beyond this moment.

She wants it too much to feel guilty, for now at least.

“Please,” she utters.

“Please what?”

“Fuck me.”

Suddenly his soft touches are gone and he yanks her panties down to her knees. One hand slides between her legs, prying them open enough so he can circle her clit with the pads of his fingers. The other snakes up her body and takes a gentle hold of her throat.

He finally brings his lips to her cheek. They graze over her skin as he mutters, “you said something to me, that night. What was it?”

She scoffs. “You’re such a cunt.” She can hear how weak her voice is as she says it.

“Mouth on you, baby,” he coos, “come on, I know you remember.”

She shakes her head fervently, hoping she can focus on the movements of his fingers, the pleasure building and building inside her. 

“I want to hear you say it, baby.”

She lets herself melt against him, clinging desperately on his arms, breathless but defiant as she meets his eyes in the mirror.

With a short huff he withdraws his hand, but keeps her against him by her neck. He easily undoes the buckle on his belt, bringing his trousers down just enough to free his cock.

She bucks her hips on instinct as he slides the tip through her folds, gathering her wetness, and smiling when he realises responsive she is to him.

“Have you always been this restless? Or have you just missed me?”

Her head hangs slightly as he teases between her entrance and her clit. She can feel how thick his cock is, how hard he is and she already knows it’s going to make her feel so fucking good.

The grip on her neck becomes firmer, demanding her attention back to the mirror. He holds her gaze as he slides into her tight, slick cunt.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, “look at how well you take that.”

He’s right. The sight of her pleading face and parted lips as he holds her and pushes deeper inside of her only adds to her arousal. 

He fucks her slowly, precisely, placing a hand on her stomach and pressing into her while the impact of his thrusts are muffled by fabric. 

“Can you feel that?” He whispers, “can you feel how tight you are? Can you feel how deep that is?”

“Ah— fuck, yes…” she chokes, savouring the burn and the stretch of his cock as he drags through her walls and hits her sweet spot. When his fingers come back to circle her clit it all becomes so light and perfect and deliciously overwhelming.

“I knew you still wanted me,” he pants between the gentle kisses to her cheek. “Say it.”

“No,” she manages to whimper.

“Say it.”

Her orgasm comes as a sudden burst of warmth and Aemond isn’t far behind, suppressing a grunt as his hips still and his cock throbs inside her.

A few moments pass and he turns her head towards him, keeping his eyes on her lips. He leans in to kiss her and she twists her head to the other side.

“Fucking brat.” 

Suddenly he brings her to face him fully, effortlessly lifting her by her thighs to rest her against the edge of the sink. 

There’s no teasing this time, no pretence, just need. He pushes himself into her in one cruel snap of his hips.

He’s too impatient to give her time to adjust before he starts to fuck her, fiercely and without mercy, hands digging into the flesh of her rear, pulling her in over and over again. He brings his forehead against hers, glaring into her eyes like he hates her.

But like this she can wrap her arms around his neck, hold him even closer and lose herself in just him.

“All you need to remember is you’re mine. You’re fucking mine and you know it.”

Tears well in her eyes and she can only take what he gives her. “Fuck… Aemond...”

Her climax builds until it’s almost excruciating, and then it tears through her, a release unlike anything she’s known for months. She keeps her arms tight around him, burying her face into his neck as her thighs shake and her whole body tenses and trembles.

Aemond doesn’t stop, fucking her through it until she’s writhing with the overstimulation.

“Too much,” she whines, “fuck it’s too much!”

He clasps a hand over her mouth to muffle her protest, dangerously echoing on the tiled walls and floors. He comes again, gnawing at his lip to keep himself quiet and spilling deep inside her as tears stream from her cheeks.

He admires the mess they’ve made as he pulls out, her cream on his cock and his cum leaking from her quivering cunt. His eyes flicker back to her face, his expression softening and his lips curling into a half smile.

Dazed and still desperate she leans into him, but her lips barely get to  graze his before he pulls away.

“Oh now you want to kiss me?”

She frowns, which only seems to amuse him.

By the way he grabs her jaw she doesn’t need to be told what to do. She offers him her tongue and swallows when he spits into her mouth.

A satisfied groan rumbles in his chest and her belly flutters in anticipation, as if he hasn’t just made her come twice, as if she can’t feel his spend starting to drip down her thighs.

He slips her off the sink and kneels down to pull her panties up her legs. Then he fixes her skirt, smoothing down the fabric with his palms.

“You’re going to be civil,” he murmurs, one of his hands coming to fix her hair. “You’re going to go back out there, kiss your boyfriend on the cheek, but I want you to think about me. Think about how good I make you feel. Do you understand?”

She nods.

“Words, baby,” he says as his hand comes to cup her jaw, stroking his thumb over her flushed cheek.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“That’s my good girl,” he says softly, leaning in to plant an almost chaste kiss to her lips.

She tries for more but he steps away, eyes roaming over her to make sure she’s presentable.

With a vague “hmm,” he carefully unlocks the door and slowly steps out. He shoots her a quick wink before he closes the door, his footsteps fading down the hallway back towards the kitchen.

Her legs almost give out underneath her and she clutches the sink to keep herself standing. 

That certainly wasn’t how she was expecting this evening to go.

She’s not sure how she’s supposed to show her face and go about pretending like nothing’s happened in front of their families. Maybe she’ll rediscover her ability to lie, kiss Cregan on the cheek and play the part of the sweet girlfriend, but what kind of person will that make her?

She looks at her reflection, at the glimmer of blissful tears and sweat on her face. 

A familiar laugh drifts down the hall.

How is she ever going to look her mother in the eye again?

General Taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy

Series Taglist: @marthawrites @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aaaaaamond @boundlessfantasy @sahvlran @tinykryptonitewerewolf @arcielee @tssf-imagines @aemondsfavouritebastard @skikikikiikhhjuuh @queenofshinigamis @lost-and-founds @izzydlb @dc-marvel-girl96 @xcinnamonmalfoyx @padfooteyes @castellomargot @pet1t3

[fanfoolishness]

a rain that sounds like home (4/8)

After the destruction of Tantiss, the Bad Batch is safe at last. As Crosshair begins to recover from his injuries, it becomes apparent that not all of his scars are physical, and that guilt and grief are wounds that cut deeper than any blade. His family is determined to be there for him -- if only he can let them in.

Canon-compliant, focusing on PTSD, amputation recovery, and sibling grief, with plenty of whump, hurt/comfort, and emotional catharsis. Set shortly after the return from Tantiss and my fic Breaching the Wall. 43,000 words total.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

Chapter 4: Moving Day. Omega and her brothers move into their new home, but there are some stumbling blocks. ~5100 words, a Phee cameo, Crosshair & Omega POV.

---

Crosshair sat perched in the pilot’s seat of their stolen shuttle.  The cockpit was dark and close around him, unfamiliar and foreign, a different make than the shuttles he had been used to in his time in the Empire.  It took him a moment to find the comms.  When he did, he took a deep breath and flicked on Echo’s message, sent to his private channel.

Echo’s holo appeared from the chest up.  He’d found new armor, what seemed to be a combination of clone armor and stormtrooper gear.  He gave a crisp, military nod as the message began.  “Crosshair, Echo here.  Been working with Vik on this job with Rex.  He wanted to send his regards.”

Ah.  Vik.  CT-7243, as Crosshair had known him on Tantiss.  They had never been able to actually talk, but Crosshair couldn’t help but memorize the numbers of the other clones in the CX training unit, used when Hemlock mocked them for their failures.  Vik, like Crosshair, had resisted the training, even though it left him clearly weakened.  CT-8102 had washed out of training, his mind twisted, and had been diverted to other experiments.  CT-1744 had held out, like Vik.  CT-3392 had been a success --

He rubbed the scar at his wrist unconsciously, his heart rate speeding up for a few beats before settling back down.

“I’ll check this channel regularly,” Echo said.  “If you need to send anything privately.”

“If I need to,” Crosshair muttered under his breath.  Like Echo was expecting him to crumble, expecting him to be unable to figure things out.  He’d been through hard things before, and in far worse places -- the platform on Kamino, the icy wastes of Barton IV, the cell on Tantiss.  If he’d survived those, getting through a nonfatal injury with his family around him in one of the most beautiful places in the galaxy would be child’s play.  He wrinkled his nose, irritated that Echo didn’t think better of him.

“Keep at it, Crosshair.  Echo out.”  The holo flicked away into darkness, and Crosshair blinked.  That was it?  He sighed, leaning back in the pilot’s chair.

The door to the cockpit slid open, and Omega stood there in the dim lights from the rear cabin, holding Lula.  “I thought I heard something,” she said accusingly.

Crosshair crossed his arms over his chest.  “Shouldn’t you be asleep?  Big day tomorrow.  Moving in.”

Omega padded into the cockpit, the door sliding closed behind her, and sat down in the copilot’s seat.  She and Lula wore matching skeptical looks.  “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“Hrm.”  He looked away and out the viewshield.  “Tried it.  Then I remembered Hunter said Echo left me a message.”

“Everything all right?” Omega asked.  “We talked tonight.  He couldn’t tell us much about the new mission he and Rex were heading on, but it sounded important.”  She heaved a sigh.  “I told him we’re moving tomorrow.  I know he’s got to do what he’s got to do, but I still wondered --”

“If he might come back to stay,” Crosshair said.  He turned back to her.  “I’m sure he’ll visit in between missions.  Isn’t that what it was like before?”  He’d picked up that Echo had left the rest of the team well before things went wrong, and had been gone for a few months before he’d returned.  

“Yes, but things are different now!  Tantiss is gone, Crosshair!  We did that!  How come -- how come that isn’t enough for him?”  She let out a vast sigh, squeezing Lula.  “I’m not really mad at him, not anymore.  I know him, I know he can’t rest when things are so unjust out there.  I feel like that too sometimes.  But I also feel like I just miss him.”

Crosshair swallowed, then hesitantly reached out with his left hand, laying it on her shoulder.  He squeezed lightly, and she gave him a faint smile.  “Thanks, Crosshair.”

He let her go, then leaned back in his seat.  “So why are you awake?”

“I woke up.  Weird dreams.”  She didn’t elaborate, but instead ducked her gaze from him.  He noted it, troubled, but wasn’t sure if he should pry.

“Come on,” he said, getting to his feet.  “Get some rest.  Big day tomorrow.”

“Same to you,” she said sternly, but followed it with a warm, gentle smile as she stood.  “Shh.  Don’t wake Hunter and Wrecker.”

“I’ll do what I can,” said Crosshair.  “But no promises.”  He herded her before him, right arm brushing against her back.  He was heartened when there was no phantom pain, just the welcome sensation of guiding his smaller sister back to bed.

---

“You ready for this?”

Omega turned to look up at Hunter, taking a deep breath and nodding.  “I’m ready.”

Their front door slid open, and their home beckoned them in.

Omega skipped through first, heart pounding, stomach swooping.  The pack on her back jostled with her bounding, and she forced herself to step a little more carefully, remembering what she carried in it.  An enormous grin spread over her face as she looked around and her brothers set down the loads they’d been carrying.

It was small for a house, but massive for a shuttle or the Havoc Marauder.  A little entryway opened up into a simple living area with a prefab dining table, chairs, and a soft sofa.  The walls were bare except for a small inset alcove in the east wall, an area to display something.  She thought she knew what might go there.  There was also a small communication terminal installed near the table, easy to sit at if sending messages to Echo or anyone else.  

She rushed forward to the windows opposite the entryway, whistling at the view.  The wide windows revealed a little patio with green shrubs and a patch of bare soil, the rocky shore down below, and past that the sea, an azure ribbon glinting in the morning sun.  “Batcher’s going to love being closer to the water,” she said eagerly.  Batcher jumped up to look out the window, then gave her a slobbery kiss of agreement.  “Okay, okay, I know!”

She turned back to wander to the kitchen, mouth hanging open slightly.  “It’s all installed!” she said in delight.  

Hunter gave her a slight proud smile.  “We’ve been busy.”

The kitchen was cozy compared to Shep and Lyana’s, but quadruple the size of a ship’s galley.  Clean counters with room for real cooking, not nuking ration packs, stood waiting.  There was a stove, a cooktop, a conservator, all of them real-sized, not the efficiency-sized versions for military life.  “We’ll have to figure out how to cook,” Omega said. 

“That’s on you,” said Crosshair, raising an eyebrow.  

“We’ll see about that,” she laughed.  She moved towards the hallway, glancing in at the roomy refresher with an actual bathtub, when her eyes fell on the two doors at the end of the hall.  Excitement blossomed within her, but she forced herself to turn away from the hall and look at her brothers.

Wrecker stood in the middle of the living room, slowly turning with his arms spread, laughing to hear how his voice echoed in all the space.  

Hunter grinned at him.  “Look at that, lads.  We’re home.”  She’d never seen him look so happy, so unguarded.  The way the joy spread over his face made him look so young.

Even Crosshair wore a soft smile, looking from Hunter to Wrecker to her.  “Hard to believe it’s ours,” he said.  “But it is, isn’t it?”  He slipped a toothpick between his lips, rolling it back and forth thoughtfully.  He nodded to her.  “What do you think?”

“I love it.  It’s our house!”  She joined the circle they were standing in, looking at each of her brothers in turn.  She didn’t know what to say.  So she held out her arms, and they closed the circle, Hunter and Wrecker wrapping their arms around her, Crosshair squeezing her shoulder with his hand.  She closed her eyes, leaning against all three of them.  

They were safe, safe, safe.

“Maybe you should check out the rest of the house,” Wrecker said, sounding as if he was trying to avoid spoiling a surprise.  She pulled away from the embrace and nodded, her eyes bright.

She walked down the hallway slowly, reverently, her brothers following behind.  The starboard -- the right -- door opened for her, and Omega practically leaped into her room.

“Wow,” she said softly.  

They’d been in the house plenty before Moving Day, raising walls and installing things.  But she hadn’t seen what her brothers must have done yesterday while she was out with Lyana.  That was why Hunter had wanted to move in last night!  

They’d done so much.  A bed -- not a heated padded bunk, but a real bed with real handmade blankets -- stood in one corner.  There was a workbench with a small toolset all her own for if she wanted to tinker with tech or droids.  A colorful little rug of soft woven fabric from the marketplace kept the room cozy in yellow, her favorite color.  Several shelves were mounted and ready for Lula, or a dozen of her.  There was a whole dresser just for clothes, though the idea that she would have enough clothes to fill it was astounding.  Strings of tiny lights crisscrossed the ceiling, ready for nightfall.  

She slowly set down her pack on her bed, then turned around with her arms held wide, her fingertips still feet away from touching the walls.

“Wow,” she whispered.

“Like it?” Wrecker asked.  As she twirled around she watched her brothers enter the room, looking down at her with pleased, happy looks.  “I mean, I know it’s no gunner’s nest…”

“It’s perfect!” she gasped, charging forward and flinging her arms around his waist in a hug.  He leaned down to pull her closer, his huge arms closing gently around her.  “Thank you, all of you,” she said, pulling back from Wrecker and beaming at him, then Hunter and Crosshair in turn.  Even Crosshair grinned back at her.

“Well, what are you going to put in it?” Hunter asked her.  “We’ll have to get you a new bow, for one, but you’ve got room to expand now.”

“I don’t know!” Omega said.  “I mean I have my things, but… there’s so much space here!”  She opened her pack, pulling out Lula and resting her on her pillow.  Then she reached in, pulling out something wrapped gently in one of her spare shirts.  She hesitated, but it felt right to do this while it was just them, before the moving day party began.  

“What’s that you got there?” Wrecker asked.

“I -- I brought these, but I thought maybe they should be out there, where we can all see them.  It’s okay that I brought them, right?”  She folded open the shirt, lifting out Tech’s goggles.  “What do you think?” she asked, taking a deep breath.

Hunter’s face creased into something half like a smile, half like he might cry.  Wrecker sighed, nodding, a slight sad smile on his face.  A muscle in Crosshair’s cheek twitched, and his eyes darkened.  

“Yeah,” said Wrecker.  “‘Course it’s okay.”  He laid a hand on her shoulder, leading her back towards the living room.  “Let’s find a good spot.  Someplace he woulda liked.”  

Hunter stepped into place beside her at the end of the hallway.  “Maybe by those windows.  I think that’d be all right.”

“That’s what I was thinking, in the little alcove.  A place just for him.”

She turned around, looking down the hallway for her other brother.  “Crosshair?” she called.

He came out of her room slowly, rubbing the back of his head with his hand, his face gray.  Instead of joining them in the living room, he ducked into the refresher.  

She frowned, then looked up to Hunter for reassurance.  He laid his hand on her shoulder.  

“He needs more time, Omega,” Hunter said quietly.  “Come on, let’s see how these look over here.”  He led her to the alcove, and she carefully placed Tech’s goggles there, adjusting them so they sat straight.

“Looks good, kid,” Wrecker said.  He reached out to rub her back.  She nodded, her throat tight.  

The sun caught Tech’s goggles, and they lit up in golden-yellow, chromium gray, reflections playing over the walls of the little alcove.  They felt right, being there.  

It felt like Tech had come home with them.

---

So this was a party.

Parties were hard for clones to throw.  Difficult to have a party without an actual home, though he’d heard rumors of regs trying it in their barracks during lights out and getting extra refresher duty for their trouble.  But here they were with a real home around them, walls that belonged to them, and pockets of villagers standing around chatting, laughing, snacking.  It was an actual party, and it was choking him.

It wasn’t that Crosshair couldn’t appreciate what the villagers were doing.  They’d brought all kinds of things -- clothes in Omega’s size their children had outgrown, spare rugs, cookware, gifts of spices, even things like a painting of the sea and a woven tapestry to decorate the walls.  They’d also brought enough food for a week in addition to snacks and treats to eat today.  It was generosity on a scale he’d never imagined, and he was grateful for it.

It was just that there were so many people.

Laughter bellowed from the living room.  Mox and Stak were wrestling with Wrecker, while Deke stood by watching them, laughing uproariously.  “Go on, get ‘im!” he hollered, shaking his fist at his brothers.  Wrecker responded by picking up each cadet with one hand nearly by the scruff.  They scrambled to escape, trying their best kicks and grapples, but couldn’t come close to dislodging themselves from Wrecker’s grip.  He threw back his head and laughed.

Crosshair leaned against the hallway wall, teeth cradling a toothpick, smirking at Wrecker’s antics.  It wasn’t that long ago that Wrecker would still try to wrestle him down and pin him, which was a certainty if Crosshair couldn’t get away.  His long legs kept him out of trouble sometimes, but just as often Wrecker would catch him and crow, holding him down with as much effort as if Crosshair had been a tooka kitten.  

He sighed, shaking his head.  It wouldn’t be long before the cadets were nearly full-grown.  He’d spent some time with the boys before the Empire invaded, and since then the boys had grown several months’ worth of inches in the past few weeks.  It had seemed normal to him once, the rate they’d grown, what the regs had looked like at that age.  But now that he’d seen some of those kids from Tantiss, kids from around the island, the more and more he realized they’d been the strange ones.  All of them.

They had thought they were so different from regs then.

He gazed at Mox, and saw Rex and Cody.  He saw Echo’s face peering back at him from Deke’s.  He looked at Stak, and he saw Mayday.

These were brothers, just as surely as Hunter, Wrecker, Tech.  

He frowned.  He’d heard some of the cadets’ stories.  The boys had been from different batches, but each had lost the entirety of their batch or squad before finding each other.  They’d lost everyone.  They had seen terrible things.

But the cadets’ young faces still looked round and childish.  Shinies, all of them.  No scars, thick and fleshy at the temple, radiating starlike across the cheek.  No tattoos to mark a skill, a point of pride.  No blind eyes, no cybernetic implants.

No missing --

His stump brushed against his thigh, and he shuddered.

“Hey, Crosshair, want in on this?” Wrecker asked, letting the cadets drop to the ground.  “These guys are fierce!”  They bounced back to their feet, settling into combat stances with impressive scowls on their faces.  

“I’m good,” he said.  He lifted himself up from his leaning and wandered back to the bedroom he would share with his brothers, hoping for a little peace and quiet, but some kind of terrible racket was going on in there.  The left door opened for him and Batcher flashed past, hopping from bed to bed, chased by a howling, squealing tangle of island children in some kind of game.  Crosshair stepped out instantly and backed away, shaking his head.  Not an option, then.

Omega poked her head out of her room, followed closely by Lyana.  “Crosshair!  Tell them to keep it down out there, Lyana and I are trying to talk!”

“Yeah, is there some kind of battle going on out there?” Lyana asked.  The left door opened and Batcher came galloping out, a throng of children at her heels. 

“No, there is not,” said Crosshair, and strode out of the hallway before the kids could pass him.  He swung a left out of the hall as Batcher and the kids skidded out past him.  He let out a long breath, then rubbed at his wrist, his nonexistent hand clenching in ghostly pain.  He clamped down on his toothpick, grinding it between his teeth.  

He looked around the living room again, which was even more crowded now with Hunter, Shep, and the family that was fostering the Tarlafar baby from the lab.  The clone cadets had stopped roughhousing with Wrecker and were now discussing plans for some kind of island sport.  He glanced around at the walls, taking in the alcove in the east wall where Tech’s goggles now rested.  His eyes slid past them as if they were not there.

He slipped towards the front door, stepping out into the afternoon, and found himself on the patio in the sunny afternoon.

Their little patio wasn’t much, but it could be something.  There was room for a bit of furniture, a chair or two.  There was a sliver of shade from the house.  The patch of rocky soil lined with short beachgrasses was wide enough to stretch out on, and the whole little area was bordered by a ring of thick, lush green bushes up to his waist, glowing with pink flowers.  A short fence of dried beachwood at the edge of the bushes was just tall enough to lean on.  He rested his right arm on the fence, bracing it against the wood, massaging it with his left hand.  

He screwed his eyes shut, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood.  The pain throbbed, an invisible vise grip coursing tidally up to his elbow.  He’d taken his medication this morning, but this was the hour between doses where the pain sometimes struck more severely.  He took a short sharp breath, then another, sweat beading on his forehead as the afternoon sun beat down.

Nothing’s there.  It’s healed.  It’s not real.  It’s in your head.

Like the tremors had been.

He shoved the fence away, breathing hard, anger flashing within him.  The rickety fence stretched backward, then swayed back into place still vibrating.  He glared at it, left hand curling into a fist, right stump held back.  His phantom fingers reached reflexively for a pistol that wasn’t there.  

“Argh!” he growled, now even angrier.  He paced in the narrow confines of the patio, ringing round and round, now counting paces back and forth.  Bigger than his cell on Tantiss, but not by much.  He counted them a dozen times before he slowed, coming to a stop again in front of the fence. The sensations in his arm had cooled and shifted back to nearly normal, leaving him spent.

He spat out his toothpick into the bushes and pulled out a fresh one, biting down until the ends splintered. He closed his eyes, worrying the toothpick back and forth between his teeth.

He wondered if a prosthetic would make these waves better. Maybe if there was something for the sensations to animate, they’d be less overwhelming.  He held out his stump, every detail writ large in his clear vision.  

A rippled sear of scar tissue, pink and roughly linear but thicker in some places than others.  The vibrosword blade had -- jittered -- when it hit bone.  The blow had chipped off fragments of some of the wrist bones, AZI had said, causing swelling and remodeling that was only now starting to improve.  All of it had left his right arm thinner and less muscular than the left due to disuse.

He sighed.  Would he feel whole with a cybernetic hand, mechanized fingers curling and uncurling, powered by gears and wires?  Would that fix him?  

He wouldn’t have to rely on Hunter to take care of his food for him.  Wouldn’t have to ask Wrecker to cut his hair.  Wouldn’t have to see Omega wearing that protective look of hers, every time she glimpsed his ruined arm.

But he wasn’t sure a new hand could fix the other thing.  The thing he didn’t have words for, the empty pit deep in the heart of him, the sleeplessness, the dreams, the way life felt so unreal these days.  He didn’t know what to call it, but it ached as badly as his arm.

“Hey there, Crosshair,” came a familiar voice.  He turned around.  Phee was carrying a crate, coming up to the front door.  She set down her crate by the door and edged past the corner of the house to the patio.  “You get lost on the way to the party?”

He stifled a faint snort of laughter.  She was sharp, he had to give her that.  “Not exactly.  Parties aren’t my… thing.”  He leaned against the fence, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Hm.  Can’t say I’m too surprised to see you out here,” she said.

“How’s that?”

“No offense, but I know being a sniper’s about more than just good eyesight.”  She drew herself up beside him.  “A good sniper’s at their best alone.”

Crosshair tilted his head in a brief nod.  “True enough.”

She smiled.  “Besides, I cheated.  Tech told me you weren’t big on crowds.”

”Or chatting,” he said, turning away, though his voice was without any real venom.  

“I can see that,” Phee chuckled.  “But hey.  Seriously though.”  He turned back to face her, and she saw her glance at his stump.  “You holding up?”

“Enh,” Crosshair said.  He ducked his head.

“Look.  I just wanted to say, I’m glad you all came home.”

He heard the words she didn’t say: This time.  He didn’t reply.

“All right, then… guess I’ll head in, since you don’t seem to be much for conversation.  You staying out here?” Phee asked.

“I -- wait,” Crosshair said, meeting her gaze.  She stopped, giving him a curious look.  “Thank you.”

“Thank me? For what?” Phee asked.  “Stopping by?  Checking in with you?  Just being a decent person?”

“For helping us,” said Crosshair firmly.  ”For Omega.”

She let him speak, her expression softening in surprise.

“We couldn’t have found Omega without your help.  If we’d been any later — or we hadn’t got Rampart — I don’t think we would have made it.”  His toothpick cracked in half, and he spat out the remnants, reaching immediately for another.  He rested it between his lips, biting down on it still harder than he meant to.  “So thank you.”

She gave him a bright smile, though there was a hint of something sad in it.  “Of course.  I love that girl, you know.  She’s special.  If I can do anything to help you boys with her, I’m there.”

He smiled quietly.  “She has that effect on people.”

She nodded, tilting her head as she looked closely at him.  “You know, I see the resemblance.”

He blinked at her, puzzled.  ”Well, we are clones.  We all resemble each other.”

She laughed, shaking her head.  “You and Brown Eyes, specifically.  You two were close, weren’t you?”

He went still.  We were, once.  But he couldn’t say that, not to an acquaintance like Phee, not to himself.  

“I heard the same about you,” he said instead.  

Wrecker had been the one to tell him, not long after the first escape from Tantiss.  Omega hadn’t even realized, but Wrecker told him Phee and Tech had been spending time together, watching the sunset, going on walks around the island.  Little things, but towering firsts for any of them.  Once he’d met her, Crosshair had seen why in an instant.  

She sighed.  “I wish — I wish there’d been more time.  We were just getting started, you know?”  She gave him a tight smile.  

More time.  

He could have been happy with her.  

But Phee and Tech hadn’t had enough time, Tech hadn’t had more time, and the weight of it pressed on Crosshair like a stone.

He swallowed, casting around to change the subject.  “What’s in the box?”

”Oh, this?  Just something I liberated.”  She brought back the crate to the patio, cracking open its sturdy lid.  “Not sure if you boys got to have toys back on Kamino when you were growing up way too fast, but turns out ships from the Grand Army of the Republic were pretty popular toys for younglings during the war.  I couldn’t get you guys a full-sized version, but I thought Omega might like this in her room.”  She pulled back the lid, and he peered down at a large model of a Marauder-class ship.  ”Not that it’ll be up to Tech’s specifications, but I think she’ll like it.”

Crosshair let out a long breath.  “She’ll love it,” he said with a chuckle despite himself.  “You ought to go give it to her.”

“Still trying to shoo me away?  You’re not exactly subtle.”  

He gave her a faint smile.  “No, not this time.  I just thought Omega would be excited.”

“I sure hope so!  Fine, I’ll head on in.”  She glanced at his stump, hanging at his side.  “But I was sorry to hear you fellas were hurt.  I know Tech said you were tough, but… that’s a hard blow for anyone.  I talked a bit with Echo about things before he left.  I’ll keep an eye out for prosthetics, too, if you’d like.  I got a lot of contacts, and if they can help you out…”

He didn’t want her pity.  Or her help.  But he thought of Tech here on Pabu beneath the weeping maya, maybe smiling at Phee.  He couldn’t even imagine it, and yet it had happened.  She’d been there for Tech; she’d made him happy.  And she’d helped them rescue Omega.  

He stuffed down his first response, a defensive no way in hell.  Instead he went with, “You don’t have to.  But… if you do see anything—“  He shrugged, gesturing around at the beautiful view.  “I’ll be here.”

”Fair enough,” she said.  “Now come on.  You want to see her face when I give this to her?”

”Yes.  I do.”

---

“Omega?” Crosshair said quietly.  She blinked, sitting up blearily.  

“Did I fall asleep?  Where are we?  Where is everyone?”

“We’re in the house, kid,” said Hunter.  “Our house.”  

“What about the party?” Omega yawned.  

“Everyone’s gone home,” Hunter said.  He knelt stiffly beside her, gently shaking her shoulder. She rubbed her eyes.  “Come on.  We should get you to bed.”

Wrecker stretched his back, preparing to reach down for her.  “I got her.”

“I’m not a little kid anymore.  You don’t have to carry me,” Omega said, still yawning, then broke into a tired grin.  She got to her feet, flinging her arms out in a big stretch.  “I’m going to go to my room.”  

Her eyes widened in delight.  “To my room!  There’s so much to do tomorrow.  I have to figure out the best way to show off the cool shells Mox and Deke and Stak brought, and where to put the jewelry from Lyana, and the ship from Phee, and my new clothes, and -- and --”  She broke out into sleepy laughter.  “I love all of this.  I love you, little brothers.”  She reached out, swooping Wrecker in a fierce hug, then turned to Hunter, throwing her arms around his neck.  He patted her, chuckling, and she turned to Crosshair.

He was ready this time.  It’d been the last thing he could have imagined once, Omega rushing to him, arms flung wide in a pure and emotional hug.  She’d known it was him, right?  But that night on the bridge he’d heard her weeping against his cheek, even through the rain, and he’d realized how wrong he’d been.

She reached out to hug him, and he hugged her back, cradling her briefly with his good arm.  He was getting better at this.  He closed his eyes for a moment, holding her close before releasing her, then bending down nearer to her level.

“Don’t stay up too late,” he scolded, half-smiling. 

“Crosshaaaaair…”

“What he said,” said Hunter, though a grin stole over his face.  Wrecker laid a hand on Hunter’s shoulder as they watched Omega pick up the model of the Marauder from the table and carry it back to her room, cradling it carefully in her arms.

“Well, ‘spose it’s our turn,” Wrecker said.  “What a day, huh?  Man, when Phee brought out that Marauder… I gotta say, I got a little misty.”

“I think we all did.  That was special,” Hunter agreed.  “Kid loved it.”

“It was good for her,” Crosshair said.  “And thoughtful as hell.”

“Phee’s just like that,” Wrecker said fondly.  He rubbed his eyes.  “Shoot, I’m almost as sleepy as the kid.  You two coming to bed?”

“Yeah,” said Hunter.  “Having half the village visit us was uh, a lot.  It was good.  But it was definitely a lot.”

“You can say that again,” Crosshair said.  “You two go on.  I’ll be there in a bit.”

Hunter gave him a look, and Crosshair suspected Hunter knew what he was up to.  He waited as they both headed down the hallway.  Once the bedroom door had closed, Crosshair sat down at the table where their communicator was mounted.  He stared at it for a few moments, the sounds of the ocean in his ears, then reached out and picked up a commlink.  He adjusted the settings to where he wanted to call.

Echo’s signal beeped on the holo, but it was the code that indicated there was only a message option.  Of course, he’d told Omega this was around the time he was moving out with Rex.  Crosshair stared for a moment at the beeping comm, wondering what to say, knowing it needed to be brief.

He took a deep breath.  “The new house is ready.  There’s room for you if you need it.  Omega still misses you.”  

He thought about saying, Maybe you should look around for something for my hand.  He thought about saying, This is a real home.  I can’t believe it’s ours.  He thought about saying, Sometimes the phantom pain reminds me of Tantiss.  He thought about saying, Do you remember being young?

He swallowed, thinking of Omega’s joy, her shining face.  “It was a good day.  Visit soon.”

He nixed the connection, and sat there blinking until his eyes cleared.