#essentials hoodie with strings

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y/n and harry broke up. he goes on a date, and y/n drives in the rain.

wordcount: 8.5k+

—————

(Y/N) knew it was hypocritical to be feeling jealous at the moment—pathetic, even. She was there that night, she knew she was the one that ended her relationship with Harry. He was single, and there was nothing wrong with him going out with another girl; he could take her to whatever restaurant he wanted, including the one that they had found together last month. 

It had only been a couple of weeks, though. And, he had been the one that wanted to try and work things out with her. Harry had been the one that was insistent that they could work through this—the miscommunications, the lack of time together, the passive aggressive arguments—, but now he was the one moving on nearly immediately. She wanted to cry that it wasn't fair, that he was supposed to still be torn up about it the same as she was. 

It wasn't as if she didn't love him anymore or was itching to get out and meet other people, she was just finding herself more unhappy than she was happy when she thought about him. He had told her that he loved her, that he wanted her—needed her—when she had sat him down, she thought neither of them would be moving on this quickly. 

But, it's fine. It's whatever. Good for him. 

Locking her phone, she placed it face down on her kitchen counter with a startling slam. She didn't double check to see if she had cracked her screen, instead stepping away from the device all together as if it wanted to sulk just as back as she. If her phone was a good friend, it would delete the Instagram app as soon as possible; there was no reason to see any more pictures of Harry and his new friend at dinner. 

Forcing her head to clear, (Y/N) padded through her apartment with the intention of cleaning up. The last weeks had left her with heartbreak brain, chores having been pushed to the wayside as she recovered. When was the last time she went grocery shopping? Had she really run out of tissues or did she have an extra stash in some closet she'd been too lazy to check? 

She shook her head, taking the pile of dirty socks to her washing machine while her mind raced with distractions. It was late, but she could go grocery shopping, at least to pick up a few essentials so she didn't order in again for the next couple of days. Seeing the world for another reason instead of work would be good for her, she thought. Even if the thought of putting on shoes that weren't slippers made her want to tear up. 

After starting up the washing machine, she trudged up the stairs towards her room. The cloudy night called for something warmer than the ratted t-shirt and frayed shorts she had on, leaving her to rifle through the collection of sweats she had tucked in her dresser. No matter the garment she pulled out of the drawer, didn't seem to be enough; not thick enough, soft enough, warm enough. Leaving the pieces in a mess in the drawer, she didn't let herself think before she was drifting to her closet where there was a too familiar hoodie hanging up. 

The smell wasn't quite as strong as it had been weeks ago, but there was still a faint scent of Harry's cologne embedded in the fibers. It was truly nothing more than a plain black hoodie, the material showing wear in the way the strings were tied into a bow at the neck with frays at the end, holes lining the sleeve hems, and a lipstick stain smeared on the back shoulder in a shade she had on her bathroom counter. Though it was his hoodie, she had stolen it enough times that it lived at her home with Harry taking it back every now and then, imprinting himself on it for her to revel in once he gave it back. 

Taking her bottom lip between her teeth, she knew it was a bad idea. There was no reason for her to wear that hoodie. Really, it was surprising that he hadn't asked for it back yet—especially if he was going out with other girls. 

It would be crazy for her to wear it, right? It was not normal to be mourning a relationship she ended. That was not her hoodie.

She slipped it on, anyway. 

As much as (Y/N) was crazy, and hypocritical, and jealous, and insensitive—she missed him. 

This whole thing would be a lot easier if she wasn't still in love with him. If he had just broken her heart and ruined those feelings for him, she wouldn't be feeling insane as she pulled the sleeves over her hands and pretended as if she wasn't breathing in his scent. 

Going out didn't seem so bad when she had this on, though.

Collecting her bag and keys, she made a point to rush through the final steps of readying herself before she was going out the door. If she waited too long, she might end up crying in this hoodie instead. 

Outside, it was raining much harder than she had initially thought. Pulling up her hood, she attempted to protect her hair from the droplets though there were casualties that were immediately pasted to her face. By the time she made it to her car, the hoodie was beginning to grow heavy against her back, rain streaked down her bare legs (in the interest of getting out of the house, she didn't change from her shorts like she'd wanted), and her lashes made heavy with mist. 

Once safe inside her car, she pulled in a heavy breath. 

She could do this. While Harry was out at dinner on a date, she'd go pick up some spaghetti noodles and more cheese than she should eat in a week.

Because she wasn't upset. She wanted to be broken up. She's fine.

With a forceful turn of the key in the ignition, (Y/N) gladly focused on the mechanics of driving through the rain as opposed to everything else on her mind. The clean scent in the air filtered through the cab, comforting her more than she realized. 

No doubt, she could do this. 

Pulling onto the main road, she turned up her music to be heard over the sound of the rain beating against the windscreen. The pavement was slick, dyed a slate black with the help of the droplets, puddles growing in every small divot in the road. The streetlamp twinkled off of the gathered water, rippling with each added drop. Everything was just a bit bleary through the windshield, even with the reach of her wipers going in overtime to wipe away the streaks. 

While she was never a huge fan of driving in less than perfect conditions, especially at night, the scene out here tonight was a perfect match to the pit in her stomach. It made sense for the weather to act this way, she thought; she was too torn up for the world to be given a cloudless, warm night. 

The music playing sifted through a playlist she'd found the other day, her search having been nothing more than for "breakup music". While she didn't know every song, or if she was even allowed to be moping to the tunes considering she was the one that cut things off, the lyrics she could catch were felt in her chest with a weight on her lungs. The ones about the other party moving on before the singer was ready stung particularly sharp tonight.

Especially when an all too familiar song started up, a voice she'd heard thousands of times before pleading with his ex lover to keep from calling her new flame "baby". 

This song had come out long before (Y/N) had met Harry, written with another in mind, but she remembered listening to it back then. She remembered wondering just how heartbroken one would have to be to write stanzas just as these, how hurtful it would be to see your love finding someone else to take your place. 

(Y/N) automatically reached out to skip the song, not even knowing it was on the playlist despite it being an obvious pick, but her hand stopped short. 

It'd been weeks since she heard his voice, even longer since he sang around her. Even if this was through speakers, mastered and fit to music, it was something she'd been missing despite pretending she didn't. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, dropping her and back to the steering wheel as if she hadn't just submitted to self-torture. 

As the tune went on, (Y/N) no longer had to wonder what kind of heartbreak went into poetry like this. She was right where Harry used to be, wishing he would give her just a bit longer of pretending to be his baby before he chose another. 

She hadn't realized she was tearing up until her wipers were unable to keep her view from being blurry. The rain outside now paled in comparison to pools glimmering at her waterline. Her skin felt hot, resistant to the chill seeping through her vents. She didn't even make it through the full of the outro before she repeated the song once more, knowing it would only spur her tears on that much more. 

Before she knew it, her bottom lip was quivering before a broken sob puffed from her lips. She sniffled with tears racing down her cheeks, searing over her warmed skin. 

It wasn't her business, but did he share the same bite of sushi with this new girl that he'd also given to (Y/N) a month ago? Did he order the same bottle of rosé? Did he reach across the table to push her hair out of her face just as he did for (Y/N)? Was tonight going to be the first date they would relay to friends and family when asked how they had found someone so special? She had no right to ask any of these questions, but was Harry going to fall in love with this new girl? 

Did he think of (Y/N) at all tonight, like she was thinking of him? 

The idea of being on Harry's mind at all was enough to have her hands tensing around the wheel, but the thought of not crossing it at all had them shaking instead. Her eyes were flooded, hands wavering on the steering wheel, skin warm and nose wet. The rain beat down against the hood of her car with as much force as her heartbeat, riding the tempo as if she couldn't hear it well enough in her ears. 

She shouldn't've left the house tonight. It would be way easier to sob like this if she wasn't having to also keep track of the road in front of her and the slick pavement beginning to flood with more water than the drains lining the sidewalks could handle. At least she seemed to be the only one out on the road at the moment. 

Scrubbing her hand over her eyes, she attempted to clear them in hopes of regaining her focus. The song was over now and she planned on wiping that song and subsequent album from her vicinity as soon as she made it to the grocery store. 

By the time she blinked her eyes open, lashes sticking to one another under the weight of her tears, she was only a few hundred feet away from the vague outline of a stoplight. She hadn't even seen the light shift from green to yellow, let alone to the blazing red that shone overhead. 

Of course, now would be the time she saw one other person on the road, already creeping out into the intersection to use their own green light. 

In a knee-jerk reaction, (Y/N) stomped on her brakes. Her breath caught when she felt that tell-tale give under her tires, the feel of the back of her car shifting out of sync with the steering wheel. 

The broken rattling of her heart was replaced by the pounding of the beats against her ribs as she realized there was no way she was going to stop. She was currently gliding over the road, her tires unable to grip onto anything underneath them through the layer of rain on the pavement. All she could do was turn the steering wheel and hope that her car followed, hopefully missing the poor bystander who would learn that she wasn't paying as much attention as she should have been when coming to the intersection. 

Every thought in her head seemed to happen in slow motion, but the world around her raced by in a second. She could feel her mouth moving, her voice muttering curses that made no sense, but there wasn't a single sound she heard over her heartbeat. Beyond her windows, the rain blurred every moving shape, her foot still heavy on the brake despite it being a fruitless effort. 

Headlights shone against her face for a brief second before she cranked the wheel, spinning just in time as she hit the middle of the intersection. Her new bleary view showed off the vague outline of the pole of the stoplight for a brief moment before spinning out even further until she was facing the direction she'd come in, her car turning in a complete one-eighty in her lane until everything suddenly stopped with a metallic crunch. 

She heard the impact before she felt it. Her driver's side door whammed into the pole of the stoplight, denting through the layers of metal with the window cracking and breaking. Prisms of glass rained over her, grazing her face and tops of her thighs with prickling shards. Her dented door threaded to push in on her before stopping, leaving a pressure against the side of her body and a complicated way to get out of the vehicle once she found her head. Her dashboard was lit up with every caution insignia as if she had no idea of what had just happened. Through the broken window, rain began to stream in, seeping into the cuts on her face and legs. She shivered though she couldn't feel a single chill from the air, her body beginning to reel from the accident she had just found herself in. 

In the back of her mind, over the pelting rain and pounding heartbeat, she heard her breakup playlist filtering through the remaining speakers. 

A wretchedly familiar voice singing about fine lines and being alright. 

"Hon? Are you okay?" 

Turning to face the nice woman who'd come to check on her after witnessing her blunder, (Y/N) opened her mouth to respond. 

She burst into tears.

—————

Harry really needed to stop wearing this necklace. 

He'd known that for the last few weeks, and, yet, every time he'd thought to unclasp it and put it at the bottom of a jewelry box to never be seen again, he never had the strength to. Instead, he continued to wear it every day, absently playing with the single pearl sitting at the base of his throat. 

Natalie watched as he fiddled with the pendant, but he still couldn't get himself to stop his idle hands. 

He hadn't even wanted to be here tonight, anyway—he had to self-soothe somehow, even if that meant playing with the necklace his ex-girlfriend gifted to him. 

Natalie was nice enough, a friend of a friend of a friend who'd been around to some parties here and there, but she wasn't (Y/N). Harry had only agreed to come out tonight in hopes of giving him a reason to wash his hair and eat something that wasn't bread or coffee while sitting on the kitchen floor. Even with clean hair and an order of his favorite sushi cleared from his plate, he still felt slices of guilt; one for going out with someone while still being very hung up on his ex, and for going out at all with someone who wasn't (Y/N). 

Harry wasn't stupid, he'd caught the cell phones pointed in his direction when he and his date had been seated. If it wasn't up already, it was only a matter of time before those photos would be circulating on all of the socials and appearing on timelines. He could already picture the headlines for tomorrow morning, detailing the mystery woman on this dinner date while questions about his previous flame were posed. He just hoped (Y/N) would somehow be able to dodge these flecks of news—even for only a couple of days. 

Hopefully, he'd have a chance to talk to her before she knew. If she was open to hearing from him, he'd explain where he was coming from in even agreeing to this date, and maybe she'd take him back. If she knew he was still in love with her, willing to change his schedule, relearn how to communicate, start going to therapy weekly again, would it be enough to salvage their relationship? 

"But, what about you?" 

Being pulled from his head, Harry had to face Natalie with a blink of his eyes. She had been talking about a movie or something—or was it her last holiday?—, but he hadn't heard a single word. Another pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach. 

He thumbed over the pearl at his throat. "Um... I'm so sorry, wh—" 

Divine intervention came in the form of his phone vibrating in his pocket. He shot an apologetic smile at Natalie before slipping the device out of his pocket, eager to pick up for whoever was on the other side. 

Until he saw the contact name, anyway. 

(Y/N)'s mother. She was calling him. 

"Who is it?" Natalie asked, canting her head at Harry's startled expression. 

"Um... Jus'—uh—someone I haven't heard from in a while. I have to take this, 'm sorry." 

He didn't catch Natalie's reaction before he was rising from his seat and heading towards the front door with the phone pressed to his ear. Rain sprinkled over his head while thunder cracked in the distance. A darker storm was moving in. 

"Hello?" 

"Harry?! Harry, are you there?" 

"'M here, yeah. Is everything alright?" He'd never heard her voice in such a frantic state, especially not over the phone like this. Was she that upset over the breakup? 

"(Y/N)—It's (Y/N). She's been in an accident, and I—we—Her father and I, we're—She's alone. I-I know you two broke up, but she's in the hospital by herself and the nurse said she's not doing okay, she's—I don't know, I don't want her to be alone but I can't get on a flight until tomorrow morning and there's—" 

Frantic chattering continued on through the receiver, but there wasn't a single syllable that was able to breach his thoughts. 

(Y/N) was in the hospital. She'd been in an accident and was now at the hospital. Alone. She wasn't doing well while she was in the hospital after being in an accident, all alone. 

His stomach turned. 

"Wha—Where's the hospital? What hospital is it?" 

Was he having a heart attack? Every beat of the organ fluttered at the base of his throat, the chambers squeezed tight. 

He needed to find her. She couldn't be alone. She had to be okay and he needed to be there. 

Her mother shakily relayed the name of the hospital and room number, stumbling over the syllables until Harry had them seared into his memory.

"I-I'm so sorry to ask you, I know what—" 

"No, no," he shook off her words, "Th-Thank you for telling me. 'M going to her right now, I'll let you know how she's doing." 

Shaky goodbyes were shared with quiet sobs sounding on the end of the other line. Harry felt breathless as he stowed his phone away, hands shaking with fumbling fingers. His head was a mess. 

All he wanted to do was go—get in his car and go, be with (Y/N). But, there was Natalie sitting at their table, a dessert ordered to the table with their check of sushi and wine waiting with their server. There were people around them who would no doubt post about any kind of commotion he sounded tonight, perhaps even leak his location if hearing he was on the way to a hospital in the city. (He usually liked to see the best in others, but it'd happened before, these wild invasions of privacy). 

Despite every instinct pushing him towards the parking lot and abandoning the night, Harry forced himself to walk back into the restaurant. He held a thin grip on his control, but it was enough to get him back to his table with Natalie so he could quietly speak with her. 

"Is everything okay?" she asked before he'd even taken his seat. 

Swallowing, his throat bobbed as he shook his head. "No, actually. I—'m really sorry, Natalie, but I have to go. My, um, a friend of mine—they're in the hospital. I need to go." 

Natalie's features were marred with surprise, mouth dropped open with her lashes in a glimmering flutter up at him. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. That's so scary. No worries, go ahead I'll take care of everything. Call me when you can, okay?" 

Meeting the blue shimmer of her gaze, Harry felt his features tighten. She was much too nice for him. 

He wasn't going to call. 

Harry didn't say anything before he was rushing out of sight, only stopping at the hostess station for a slick second to tell the staff to charge the card attached to the reservation. Natalie was open to order whatever she wanted for the rest of the night, but she wasn't paying for a single cent. This would be his apology for never calling. 

It was with shaky fingers that he typed in the name of the hospital (Y/N) was at—all alone—as soon as he was in his car. Though his heartbeat didn't settle much, his head felt a bit clearer knowing that with every mile he was cruising down the street, he was growing closer to (Y/N). His hands couldn't stay idle for very long, consistently reaching up to the necklace around his throat. 

(Y/N) was going to be alright, right? 

The question warmed the backs of his eyes, flushing his skin. As much as he wanted—needed—to be at her side, Harry realized he wasn't sure what he was walking into. Her mother had said she wasn't doing okay—whatever that meant. What kind of scene was he going to walk into? 

Stop lights and brake lights passing in a blur through the growing rain, Harry made it to the hospital in record time. The pavement was slick, reflecting the glow of the streetlamps and the many car lights bumbling through the carpark. He didn't think before he was pulling into the first spot he found, parking at a sloppy angle before he was rushing out. 

With the rain coming down, his hair fell across his forehead, slicking to his skin. The droplets acted as the tears he was unwilling to shed until he saw (Y/N) in person. 

He marched his way into reception, shoes squeaking over the linoleum. Behind the desk, a woman perked up, spotting him with bored eyes before she perked up with recognition he knew too well. 

"Hi, um, how can I help you?" she sputtered. 

Unable to muster a greeting smile, he kept his eyes low. "I—um—I need to see someone, please?" 

The rest of the checkin passed in a daze, Harry only barely able to keep himself from begging to see (Y/N). He relayed as much information as he could, showing any kind of identification needed. He was more than thankful to hear that her parents had approved his visit during their initial phone call, something he filed away for later so he could thank them when he had a clear mind. 

The best thing he heard, the one that stuck glaringly in his mind, was the fact that she wasn't housed anywhere to be treated for critical pain. She was being held somewhere safe and hopefully comfortable. 

Following the given directions, Harry felt like a ghost as he floated through the different doors and elevators. He moved restlessly while he dinged through the floors, feet shuffling while his eyes were trained on the rising numbers. 

Was this the slowest elevator on earth? Or were they always like this? 

Once set free on the correct floor, Harry floated through the halls, sweaty palms pressed into the pockets of his pants. All he could focus clearly on was the room numbers pinned beside the doors, the thumps of his heart bubbling in his ears. 

After going down what felt like endless miles of hallways, the correct room number finally appeared before him. The door was shut, the lights inside dim. His hand hesitated on the door handle.

He had been so consumed with making it to her, to make himself feel better with the sight of her, that he hadn't really considered if she would even want to see him. If she wasn't asleep at the moment, would she just kick him out? She had been the one to break up with him, anyway. 

Before he could doubt himself any more, he pushed through, keeping his steps light over the linoleum. 

Just as he thought, the room was quiet and dark, rain streaking down the window. There was a warm glow coming from the standing lamp at the corner of the room, machines beeping along with the television with a made-for-tv movie playing. A whiteboard marked with her name was pinned to the wall, filled with stats and jargon Harry didn't have the mind to decipher. 

Amongst it all, (Y/N) was laid in the hospital bed with the thin covers pulled to her middle. Her eyes were shuttered, showing off the bruising underneath alongside the myriad of cuts over her skin. As peaceful as she appeared, sleeping away under the crumpled sheets, Harry couldn't help the tears that touched his eyes. 

With the door closing behind him, he drew closer to her bed. It didn't take much examination to spot the tear tracks glimmering on her cheeks, the swollen puff of her lips. It was the same way she'd looked when she had told him she didn't want to be with him any longer. 

Harry wasn't sure what broke his heart more: the obvious evidence of weeping on her features, or the fact that her tears would have skated over every cut and scratch marring her cheeks? 

He shuffled over the floor. He wanted to be at her side, hold her hand and let her know she wasn't alone anymore, but he didn't want to wake her. There was a reason that she wasn't allowed to head home after being checked out by the hospital team, the more rest she received the better. 

Instead, he gingerly made his way to her bedside, taking a spot in the uncomfortable chair seemingly waiting for him in the lamplight. With the way she was laid up in the bed, he had an unobstructed view of her relaxed features, some of the more notable injuries on her face bandaged up while others were left treated with nothing more than a glistening salve. She didn't look particularly comfortable, especially knowing how she usually liked to curl up with her hands to her cheek and legs to her chest, but this was better than nothing. 

Better than being in a wrecked car somewhere. 

The thought was sobering, enough to have those tears he had been urging away to resurface on his waterline once more. 

She was here. (Y/N) was okay—hurt, but well enough to be left to sleep on her own. She was no longer alone. 

He hung his head in his hands. He didn't want to think about what kind of accident would have put her here, blood on her face with machines monitoring every vital in her body. 

With those tears in his eyes, peeking up at her between his lashes, she looked like a watercolor painting. The edges were blurred, leaving the general outline of the person that filled his dreams and became his muse for the better part of the last year and a half. 

He couldn't believe the last month of his life. He'd lost her. And for what? Because he didn't think it was important enough to send her a text when he was going to be out later than initially thought? Because it was easier to let his schedule happen to him, as opposed to shaping his life around making enough time to spend time with her? Because why would he talk to her, tell her where he was coming from, when he could be passive aggressive and sweep everything under the rug instead?

The beeping of the heart monitor was the pitched baseline that anchored him to the room. Every dotted sound kept him from being swept away in the rivers of tears dripping down his heated cheeks. 

He could have lost her today. In the worst case scenario of this day, he would have received a very different phone call. He wouldn't have had the chance to sit at her side right now. He wouldn't have seen these healing injuries on her, instead having only old photographs to remember what life looked like on her. 

As cracked as his heart was at the moment, he would take these cuts and scrapes, this uncomfortable chair, the stiff set of her bedding, over any other ending this night could have had. 

The rain pelted against the window as Harry fixed his gaze to the love of his life. 

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, if it had been nothing more than a few minutes or if it had been hours at her side, until there was the soft click of the doorknob twisting with the door pushed open. Entering was a nurse in soft purple scrubs, hair pulled back and a clipboard in her hands. She had her eyes trained down before looking up to catch Harry wiping his eyes and (Y/N) unstirring in her bed. 

"Oh, hello," she murmured, voice soft as they were both aware of the patient in bed, "I didn't know she was having any visitors tonight." 

A barely there smile curled Harry's cheeks, his skin smooth of dimples. "Yeah, got here as fast as I could. Have you been helping her?" 

The nurse shook her head, "A little, but she's been asleep for most of it. Poor thing cried herself into exhaustion, so I doubt she really remembers meeting me." 

Her statement had his bottom lip quivering. Harry had to remind himself to be grateful she was even here to cry. 

"She's doing alright, though?" 

With a quick glance at the clipboard, the nurse nodded her head. "Yeah, she's doing much better—now that she's calmed down a little. We've just gotta keep an eye on her for tonight. She got a good crack to her head, so I want to make sure she doesn't sleep for too long tonight." 

Harry gave her a nod, a moment from offering to wake (Y/N) for her before the nurse stepped forward. In gentle tones with a hand to her shoulder, she woke (Y/N). 

Unlike her, she had been sleeping rather lightly, jumping awake after only a single call of her name. (Y/N) fluttered her eyes open, lashes sticking together from the dried crust of her tears, enough so that she reached her scratched hands up to rub the mess away. 

"Hi," (Y/N) greeted, her voice in a croak as she got her bearings. 

"Hello," the nurse responded with a gentle smile, "Sorry to wake you, hon. I just wanted to check on you, then you're good to go to sleep, again." 

"Okay," (Y/N) breathed, struggling to sit up. 

Without thinking, Harry surged forward, helping her as much as he could. The second he put his hands on her, (Y/N) jumped, having not seen him prior.

It was clear she was more than surprised to see him with the way her eyes widened, blanching at the sight of him. 

"Harry?"

He offered a quiet, thin smile, sitting back in his spot once she was stable, sitting up for the nurse. "Hi." 

Before much else could be shared between them, the nurse began running her tests. Small talk was shared between the two, (Y/N) glancing more than once in Harry's direction. His hands were a fiddling mess in his lap, watching with rapt attention as every evaluation was run. 

"Everything's looking okay—what I expected we'd be seeing," the nurse mused, writing down her information on the clipboard in hand, "But, how are you feeling? Any extra pain, anything you want me to take a look at or mention to the doctor?" 

"I'm fine," (Y/N) smiled, the expression less than convincing, "Nothing hurts any more than earlier." 

"Okay, okay," the nurse nodded, "That's good, let me know if that changes. I'll be back to check on you in a few hours, so get in your rest while you can." 

A pointed look was placed in Harry's direction at her last statement, a teasing curl to the corner of her lips. (Y/N) gave a sheepish nod. 

"Right, thank you." 

The nurse departed with a couple of well wishes and a reminder that she'd be back in a few hours. Once the door clicked behind her, a stiff silence settled between them. The only sound came in the form of the mechanical beeping of the machines around her and the ending of the television movie playing. 

(Y/N) had her eyes facing ahead, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. Harry stared at her. 

"(Y/N)—" 

"You're here." 

His throat bobbed as he heavily swallowed. "I am," he nodded, dropping his gaze to his picked cuticles in his lap, "Your mum called me." 

A furrow had her brow pinched. "Her and my dad are on vacation right now." 

Another nod, a strand of hair touching over his forehead. "They'll be back tomorrow morning, but she wanted someone to be with you tonight." 

Maybe it was the way her shoulders tensed, the glassy look that took over her gaze, or the pinch to her features, but something brittle settled in the air between them. Every breath felt delicate as he waited for any kind of response. 

"I'm sorry." 

It was his turn for his brows to knit together. "For what?" 

That fragile tension between them cracked. 

"You were on a date." 

Harry hung his head, lips thinning. He thought he would have more time to explain this. 

"'S not what it looks like, (Y/N)." 

She shook her head, voice quiet under her breath. "So it wasn't a date?" 

Sucking in a breath, his lungs squeezed. "I mean—It—Yes, it was a date, but—" 

The beeping of her heart monitor heightened, the pitch seemingly hitting higher than a moment before with the pace quickening. "So it is what it looks like." 

"(Y/N), 's more—there's more to it than that." 

(Y/N) only shrugged at his half-hearted response, her head hanging between her shoulders. 

Harry felt just as defeated as she looked now. This wasn't how he wanted to reunite with her, but he guessed beggars couldn't be choosers. This was the opportunity he had, and he wasn't going to turn it away. 

"What happened tonight?" he murmured, shifting the conversation away from his own blunders. Unfortunately, this avenue would be an easier section to stomach than anything she would want to know about his date. 

"I got into an accident." 

"I know," Harry gently prodded, "But, what happened? Y'usually only hit curbs, not anything else." 

His shoulders loosened when his teasing was enough to draw a huffed laugh from her, a slight smile softening her features. 

As much as they may have deteriorated recently, he did know her. He knew her better than he knew himself. 

"It was just raining really hard, and—I don't know—I wasn't able to stop like I thought. I slid and hit a pole, and... yeah." 

As much as he did like teasing her about her more precarious driving habits, he knew more than anything that she was cautious. It wasn't like her to settle into accidents like this—she rarely ever drove in weather like this anyway, let alone at night. 

"Y'never drive in the rain," he pressed, an unaired question bookending his words. 

"I know." 

Harry looked at her, waiting for more than those two syllables. It was fruitless, he knew. 

He hung his head, running an absent hand through his hair before his fingers found the pearl at his throat. Eyes on the floor between his feet, he couldn't look at her as he spoke once more. 

"(Y/N). What happened tonight?" This isn't like you. Why did this happen? 

The air in the room seemingly went still. 

When he chanced a look up once more, he saw her sitting in her hospital bed with sparkling tears in her eyes. His chest panged at the sight. He knotted his fingers tighter together, forcing himself to see from reaching out. 

"(Y/N)...," he started, voice decidedly more gentle than a moment before. 

She shook her head. "I didn't want to be home—and I was crying, and I wasn't paying attention and the rain was heavier than I thought—and just... Everything happened." 

What was worse? Hearing that she had cried more than once tonight, before she'd even got in her accident, or seeing her recount it with another set of tears racing down her cheeks? 

This time he couldn't help himself; Harry reached out to touch her wrist. Her skin was warm under the chill of goosebumps on her skin. While she didn't move to hold his hand like she used to, she didn't flinch away. That was enough, he thought. 

"Why were y'crying, lo—(Y/N)?" He internally cringed at his slip up. He had no place calling her anything but her name. "What happened?" 

Another shake of her head. "It's stupid," she sniffled, fluttering her eyes closed with the tears clinging to the tips of her lashes. 

"Not if it made y'so upset that y'ended up here tonight," he crooned, words a quiet lilt only for her to hear, "What happened?" 

"I—It's..." she cut herself off more than once, throat bobbing, "I don't... I was the one that broke up with you, I-I'm not supposed to be upset. It-It's not fair." 

Her voice was barely a whisper by the time she finished speaking. His hand on her wrist tightened, a snug warmth against her skin. He ran his thumb over the bone, pretending he didn't feel the cut just on the underside. 

He waited. 

Another made-for-tv movie started on her television. 

He waited. 

She took a deep breath. Her eyes still closed.

"You went on a date tonight." 

Harry's shoulders deflated. 

"(Y/N)—"

"No," she peeped, shaking her head with her arm stiffening under his hold, "No. You were on a date, and I'm crazy and I'm not supposed to be upset, but I couldn't handle it—I didn't want to be home alone an-anymore. I didn't think you'd be over it already since I'm not, but you-you can do whatever you want an-and I need to be okay with that. And, then you—your music, it started playing while I was driving and I-I—Harry, I couldn't stop crying and then I crashed." Her voice was clogged in her throat, muddy and thick. Her tone came in waves, ebbing and flowing until it gave out. "I'm sorry." 

There was no chance Harry had of keeping his own tears at bay as he listened. It was too much—all of it; hearing her beginning to sob over the thought of him being over their relationship, how just the sound of his voice over her speakers brought her to tears while driving, the fact that she'd seen photos of him out on a date had driven her from her home to get away from herself. 

He felt his skin flush, the warmth heading down his neck the same way his tears did. He sniffled his nose, his lips rolled between his teeth to keep himself from blurting out each thought he couldn't help but to have. 

He doubted telling her how much he loved her was going to be much help when she was so dedicated to the thought of him already finding someone new to replace her. 

"You—" he cut himself off when his voice came a croak, clearing his throat with his hand on her wrist. "Y'don't have to be sorry, (Y/N). You're not crazy, either—I don't know what I would do if I'd seen y'go out with someone else, either. Y—'M jus' sorry, I never—I didn't mean to—" 

"It's okay, it's okay," she murmured, shaking her head as she slid her arm out from under his hand, curling into herself while she refused to open her eyes. "It's not your fault—you—I ended our relationship, you can do whatever you want." A shuddering breath had her shoulders shaking, lungs rattling. "I-I'm sorry you're here instead of with her." 

Just short of climbing up on the bed beside her, Harry pulled his chair as close to her side as he could. There wasn't anything he could say—nothing that he could imagine would shift her mind on what she'd seen and decided was the truth. All he could do, even if it involved uncomfortable bending of his joints, was collect her into his arms and hold her. It was only then that the slow roll of her tears were let loose into full weeps, her face buried into his neck. 

She burrowed against him, sinking into him as if the last month hadn't occurred. His hands spanned over her form, familiar with every plane and curve. His fingers caught on the raised abrasions that could be felt through her thin gown, but Harry could only be grateful that those were the only evidence of her accident. The mechanical beeping of her pulse skittered high, enough so he worried that the nurse could be alerted of the disturbance. Nonetheless, he held her tighter. 

"There's nowhere else I want to be," he murmured into her hair, his voice watery like the tears running down his cheeks. 

Reaching towards him, (Y/N) wrapped her hands in the wool of his jacket, fingers clawing into the fabric in a tighter grip than he'd expected from her state. "E-Even tonight?" 

Her cry was thin and pathetic, causing Harry to pulse his arms around her once more. "Tonight—every night. As long as 'm with you." 

He could feel the flutter of her lashes as she cinched her eyes shut tighter. Her voice was barely a whisper when she spoke again, just audible given how closely he had her wrapped around him, "Wh-What about her?" 

He shook his head against her hair, his nose skating over her crown. There would be a time to really unpack why he found himself at a candlelit table with Natalie, including everything that was going through his head every time she spoke to him, but that wasn't tonight. She needed him, and all of the reassurance he could give more than he needed to clear his conscience and monologue over his feelings. 

"She's not you and that's all that matters to me," he told her, sincerity dripping in his tone, "All I want is you." 

(Y/N) cried in a blubbering sob, "I didn't think you loved me anymore." 

Harry's own eyes had to be shuttered closed then, a fruitless attempt in hopes of stemming the tears falling out of his eyes and into (Y/N)'s hair. "I didn't think y'loved me anymore, darling." 

"I-I do, I do," she countered, shaking her head in his neck with her grip tightening on him, "We-We just never saw ea-each other anymore, and I-I thought you were mad at me all th-the time and I thought we'd be happier apart—b-but I was wrong and—" 

"It's okay, it's okay," he soothed her, starting a circuit of his palm over her back, "I-I understand. But now we know—you're all I want, an-and I'll do anything to make it work with you." 

"You're all I want," she whimpered, voice tight, "Don't leave me." 

While a part of him was soaring knowing that she was still in love with him, that this wasn't over the way he'd thought, he was still more than heartbroken to hear that she was so torn up and broken herself. She thought she had no choice but to end the relationship in hopes of making both of them happier elsewhere. He never imagined himself making someone he loved feel that way. 

"I won't." 

—————

Rubbing the lack of sleep out of his eye, Harry stood back as (Y/N) checked out of the hospital. Her mother was twined to her side with her father looking just as distraught, though he was better at giving his daughter space. They'd come straight here as soon as they landed only a couple of hours prior, walking in on Harry who had stayed far longer than the originally carved out visiting hours with (Y/N) still in his arms. 

Gratitude was exchanged between them—Harry for coming to (Y/N)'s side at a moment's notice, and her parents for telling him at all and letting him be there for her—with a thread of stiffness lingering afterwards. Harry couldn't blame them; the last they'd heard about him was the fact that he'd been dumped by their daughter along with all the reasons why. They didn't know what had come of the night before, yet, only seeing the aftermath of their tear puffed faces and his arms wrapped around her.

Truthfully, Harry wasn't even sure where he stood with (Y/N) at the moment. Promises uttered through sobs after a traumatic event wasn't something he was going to hold her to. Even if he wanted to believe she was still in love with him and wanted to be with him like she'd said last night. 

Armed with paperwork and parents at her side, (Y/N) nodded to the nurse at the checkout with a plastered smile. Though they were still clear on her skin, the cuts and scrapes she'd earned in her accident didn't look so bad when she smiled with light in the eyes. 

Though he was still a bit too far away, he could hear the mumblings of a quiet conversation happening between (Y/N) and her parents. He was sure she was going to go home with them, and sort out everything else that couldn't be helped with a night at the hospital, but he'd wait until he knew she was safe before he'd leave himself. 

He watched from the corner of his eye, giving them privacy, though he could see (Y/N) waving off her parents before stepping towards him. It was a lingering departure, her mother refusing to let go too readily, though she eventually resigned herself to head down the hallway towards the bank of elevators with her husband and her daughter's paperwork. 

(Y/N) took shy steps towards Harry, empty hands a fiddling mess. 

"You're still here," she said, voice quiet to match the waiting room. 

He shrugged, a small smile having curled the corner of his lips. Was he supposed to remind her that she had asked him to stay, or keep that ex-boyfriend barrier in place? (If it was even still standing, given the way she'd fallen asleep in his arms just hours before).

"You're doing alright?" he asked instead, scanning over the planes of her face as if he didn't have them memorized already. 

She nodded. "Just sore, but I think I'm just going to feel that way for a little while. My head's doing better, though—I still have a headache, but I don't think it's because of the accident." 

Though she ended with a laugh, Harry figured she wasn't sure what to make of last night anymore than he did. 

"'M happy you're alright," he told her, sincerity weaved through his words, "Are your mum and dad taking y'home?" 

"Yeah," she nodded, looking over her shoulder to the couple waiting at the elevators, "I think my mom wants me to stay at their house tonight, but we'll see." 

"Oh, y'don't want to spend hours watching soap opera reruns tonight?" Harry teased, a sly smile touching his lips. The curl only stretched when (Y/N) laughed. 

"Not particularly, but who knows," she said, sparing another glance over her shoulder to see the audience waiting on her, "Um, we talked a lot last night." 

"We did, yeah," he nodded, throat bobbing as swallowed, eyes dropping from her own, "But, we don't—'m not—If y'don't feel the same way as y'did last night, 'm not going to ma—" 

"I do," she cut him off, a bright chirp that matched the spark in Harry's chest. "I do feel the same, I mean. We should probably talk a little more, though, right?" 

A dimple dented Harry's cheek, suddenly feeling incredibly more alive than just a heartbeat before. "Probably." 

"Are you busy tomorrow? In the morning?" 

It didn't take a second thought before Harry was moving his schedule around to keep his morning stark open tomorrow. Those meetings could be moved—maybe even made into an email or a quick phone call. 

"Not for you." 

The blooming smile she gave him was reminiscent of the first time he pulled that flirtation on her. 

"Good," she quipped, "I'll call you tonight or something, then. Maybe we could get breakfast tomorrow?" 

"I'll be there," he cemented, "Jus' tell me when." 

The rewarding light in her eyes made it easy for Harry to forget the last month of his light (except for the night he'd just spent with her, of course). 

"I will," she told him, "Bye, Harry." 

Maybe it was the way she hesitantly stepped towards him, or the shy way she had her lips rolled between her teeth with a budding smile, or the memory of her warmth against his chest, but Harry didn't think before he was collecting her into his arms. (Y/N) melted into his chest on instinct, wrapping her arms around his middle. He could feel the mush of her cheek against the cuff of his shoulder. Despite the sterile scent of the hospital clinging to her, underneath it all was the familiar fragrance of her shampoo and sweet body lotion she somehow never ran out of. 

Drawing away first, (Y/N) only put enough space between them to get a look up at Harry. Though her eyes were bloodshot, bags darkening underneath, and the shadow of her tears lingering in the corners, he'd never seen anything more beautiful than (Y/N)'s eyes. 

"I'll see y'tomorrow." 

"See you tomorrow." 

Long after she untangled herself from his hold, Harry still felt (Y/N)'s warmth long enough to carry him home and keep him company until his phone rang a familiar tone later that night. 

—————

ahhhhhh I never write angst so I hope this turned out all right! thank you sm for reading, and sorry for any mistakes! if you have any ideas or anything at all send them in!

[alanaaii]

Shopping w connie.☆

!plug connie & ur just a spoiled brat.

nsfw. car sex.

“ma you know what you wearing friday?” You shook your head, scrolling on your phone. You and connie were suppose to go on one of your monthly dates this week but your closet just wasn’t giving. ���I don’t have s-h-i-t in my closet.��� You pull the blanket that you and connie shared on the couch. “that mean i gotta take you shopping?”

You knew what that meant—a full day with connie with no distractions. All about you you and you. Finally deciding to get up and start the day, you took a warm shower and got dressed. Sliding on some black leggings and an essentials hoodie. As you did your edges in the mirror, connie came behind you and snuck his cold fingers up your hoodie.

“connn your hands are cold” you whined as you shuffled to get his hands out. “I just wanna feel you mama”. You turn around and push his hands out. “you can feel on me when i get the stuff i want”. You was a big brat. “come on then” You and connie headed out to his all black tinted BMW. He opened the door for you as you hopped up into the passenger seat. He sat on his side and started the car and made his way to the mall.

Once y’all get there, one hand is entangled with connie’s surprisingly bigger hand and your cute pink purse in the other. “where to first ma?”

you pull connie to your favorite store.

Your eyes glowed as you saw the expensive shoes and clothes on the walls.

“pa do i have a limit?” You looked up at him, batting your pretty eyes. You knew connie would spend every last penny he had on you if it meant you would be happy. “go crazy”

And you did just that. Picking up any cute pair of jeans and putting some scandalous things for connie to see you in later. Once you were done you let the woman behind the counter scan all of your stuff. “girl i know your man love you”

All you could do was smile as connie took out a band and began to pay the total.

He grabbed your bags as you make your way out of the store. “thank you papi”. Standing on your tippy toes, you give him a small peck on his lips. “anything for you mama”.

The rest of the day consisted of you putting things in connie’s hands and him buying it.

As you two headed to the car connie was overloaded with bags. “damn ma you about to make me go broke” He huffed as he put the bags into the trunk. You were sitting in the passenger seat sipping your smoothie that you got from the food court.

As he got into opposite side, you put your hand on his perfectly tatted arm, softly rubbing it. “i’m sorry, everything was just soo pretty”. you pout. “let me make it up to you pa” You dragged your hand from his arm to his pants, feeling him stiffen at your touch. Since his car was heavily tinted nobody could see anything. (this is how you got away with everything ;) )

As you leaned into him you pressed your freshly glossed lips into his pink ones. Slowly pushing your tongue into his mouth. You snuck your hands into connie’s sweatpants and pulled out his already erected dick. His tip already moist from the precum you wrap your hand around his dick and pressed your thumb on his tip, circling it. You slowly break the kiss—a string of saliva still connecting you two.

Dipping your head down to spit on the tip before you wrap your mouth around it. Connie bit on his bottom lip, holding in his grunts. Bobbing your head up and down slowly—making those sloppy wet sounds connie adored.

Connie began to thrust his hips into your mouth. forcing you to take him down your throat, gagging on his length. “Fuck maa..jus like that..” He said in his deep raspy voice that had you weak in the knees. You feel him pulse. You knew he was close so you got on your knees and began to give him that gawk gawk combo using your hand and your mouth.

Connie slapped your ass before putting his hand in your leggings. he slid your panties to the side and rubbed your soaking wet cunt, satisfying the heat that was in your core. His long fingers prompting you go moan on his dick, the vibrations overwhelming connie. He couldn’t hold it. “‘m bout to cum ma”

He took his fingers out of you and grabbed onto your head, pushing your head down as he painted your mouth white. He groaned. “that’s my girl.”

you took one big gulp as the bitterness went away. You lifted your head up and looked at your phone camera. Ruined makeup, sweated out edges and all. “Come sit on it mama” He said lowly as he reclined his seat back.

Sliding your pants off but keeping your panties on, you move over to connie’s side and gently slid down on his dick. He grunt as he feels your gushy walls suck him in. You position yourself before you completely lose yourself. You hold onto connie’s shoulders to keep stable before starting to move. Up and down the sound of your ass clapping against connie’s thighs was like music to his ears. You desperately bounced on him, your juices dripping on the seat. (connie doesn’t mind.) You feel your cunt clench around connie as you felt his thumb rub your clit. This man knew how to make you orgasm quick. It’s like he knew every part of you like the back of his hand. Moaning his name, he put his hands around your waist and pushed you down onto him. “fuckkk”

“you gon’ cum on me mama? huh?”

You could feel your knees about to give up on you as your orgasm was coming. One final thrust and you came all over his dick. Your cum making a ring at the bottom of connie’s dick as you rode out your high. Connie press his lips onto yours to suppress your loud moans as you came down.

“i love you ma”

“i love you too con”

“another round at home?”

Likes, reblogs and follows are always appreciated!

[hypnos333]

Hey I have a request for Lucifer x reader! Where the reader is like a sinner who did wrong things for their love. Like they weren’t a bad person simply in love! And they essentially did it to follow them in hell only for that “love” to betray them. So they decide to redeem themselves at the hotel and meets Lucifer in the process. Thank you for taking time to read this!

Imbalance

Lucifer x Reader

Synopsis: After getting betrayed you meant someone who wasn’t an obsession and was actually pure love

Tears ran down your face as you walked towards a familiar hotel with a backpack and your Beige suitcase. It was raining so people might mistake your tears as Raindrops and thankfully you won’t correct them. You carefully wiped your face just in case and opened the hotel door.

Charlie saw you and instantly got excited. “Hello! Are you here to stay and be redeemed!?” Charlie asked hopefully making more at eased.

“Yea, Uhm I’ve done stuff for love and never actually did stuff for me” You said nervously fiddling with your hoodie strings.

You actually reminded Charlie of her father being depressed because of being betrayed so she welcomes you with open arms.

“That’s okay, let me help you with that” She reassured before taking your suitcase before you could reject her.

“Let me lead you to your room miss-“___” You finished as she nodded excitedly before leading you upstairs to the guess room.

“Is there anyone else doing this?” You asked curiously as you walked beside her.

“Just one person but I guess you can say we force him a bit to do this but other than that it’s just you who seems to want to be redeemed. Demons usually don’t care for these types of things” Charlie said honestly making you nod in agreement.

You yourself are down here because you were just blinded by love. You did anything for your ex like helping him hide a body that he killed or things he asked you’ll immediately do.

“Here we are ____, Call me if you need anything and also breakfast starts at 8:00-9:30” Charlie said as she handed you a key to your room.

“Thank you” You mumbled before entering your room with your suitcase. And all honesty it was bigger than you expected. Plus you got a window to see all of hell.

You sigh before throwing your backpack off your shoulder then flopping on the comfortable bed before falling to sleep accidentally.

A soft knock made you open the door to see Charlie and another girl who looked more intimidating. “Hiii ___ I hope you don’t mind but me and my girlfriend will be escorting you to breakfast” Charlie cheerfully said making you smile at her.

“Of course let me get my sweater” You said before rushing to get your light pink sweater and then closing your door before walking in between the two.

“I’m vaggie by the way” The girl said making you introduce yourself all over again. You weren’t paying attention til you bump into some making you fall to the ground and him only stumble to balance himself.

He turned around and saw you, A beautiful-no A gorgeous woman. “I-I’m so sorry” He said before reaching out to help you up.

“Dad!” Charlie said excitedly, as Lucifer eyes sparkled continued after looking away from you. “Charlie!!!” He said hugging his daughter. You and Vaggie stand there waiting for the father,daughter to be done.

“Oh! ___ this is my dad lucifer and dad this is ___” Charlie introduced making both adults make heart eyes at each other.

“OR you can call me the big boss” Lucifer said jokingly said making you chuckle.

“It’s pleasure to meet the big boss himself” You said sending shivers down his spine and heart racing. He blushes as Vaggie and Charlie stare at the future new couple.

This led to you two being talkive to each other more making you put your trust in him to be able to tell him why you’re in hell.

“I had this Ex who was manipulative but I was really in love to not see it, So whenever he told me to help him hide a body I did it without a doubt and it was more then one time sadly” You said as tears came out your eyes.

He shushed you as he pulled you into him cuddling you. You cried in his shoulder as he rubbed your back making you sleep on his shoulder.

He kissed your forehead before putting you on his lap to get you in a more comfortable position.

A month later:

You woke this time feeling someone under you, His arms around your waist and legs intertwined with yours.

You carefully got up but Lucifer held you down more tightly. “Stay” He mumbled as he put lazy kisses on your neck with his hands slipped under your shirt to rub your back to get you back to sleep. You hummed in agreement feeling sleepy at his touch.

“I love you” You mumbled

“I love you too My Queen” He whispered in your ear.

[abibliophobiaa]

Hug

eddie munson x f!reader.

no, i did not write this because i’m on day 2 of a hellish period. not at all.

——

He found you on the couch.

Practically hidden beneath a pile of pillows and the dove gray comforter from your shared bed.

And you looked cute as hell, with your hoodie tugged tight by the strings around your head, a little bow beneath your chin where you tied the loops. Further still, he found your feet propped up high on a mountain of pillows, cozy socks he’d bought you for the holidays bunched around your legging clad ankles.

Dropping his things at the door, he called into the empty space gently, “Knock, knock. I come bearing gifts.”

You’d called off work. Said your monthly cramps were really bothering you, the migraine that followed pulsing behind your eyes, body — your words exactly — like one giant bruise. So he’d gone to the store on the way home, grabbed some essentials and pain relievers, as well as your favorite chocolates and snacks.

“You’re home,” you sighed, sounding a little sad, a little pout on your lips.

He knew you were happy, though. Could see it in the way you shifted up onto your elbows quickly, a serene smile in place across your lips, lowering the volume on the silly game show you were loosely keeping up with. The bag of goodies thumped onto the coffee table, Eddie wanting nothing more than to sit down beside your hip, rubbing a hand along your blanket covered abdomen.

“How’s my girl?” he mused, smiling to himself as your hand covered his, wanting to be touching.

“Better now.” And you shifted onto your side, pushing your back against the couch cushions, opening up a space in the blankets for him to slide on in. “C’mere.”

Chuckling, he obliged, sliding on in beside you, backs of his knuckles dragging along the highest point of your cheekbone. Even feeling as bad as you did, you still stole his breath away.

He drew you in close for a hug. Felt you melt against his frame, a low sigh spilling into his hoodie covered chest, warming him from the inside out. Fingers, still chilled from outside, slipped behind the back of your hoodie and rested low at the base of your spine. He knew just how to rub along the fresh air to ease the fullness of the aching, and held you closer as your head turned further against his sternum, eyes drooping closed the longer he rubbed.

“Tired?” he asked, fingers still moving in a slow circle.

“Uh-huh.”

It was muffled into the curve of his bicep, his chest aching at the way you sank further into rest. “Close your eyes, baby. I’ll be right here.”

You did just that.

——

[ltash]

Pretty Little Teacher

Simon Ghost Riley x female reader

Warning: 18 plus, dubcon and noncon theme, dark themed, dark ghost, s*x and erotica, forced sex.

He loves me like a monster, all teeth and talk and hiding in the dark. That's my speciality, Men with strong bodies and fragile hearts, and if you hold them too tightly they will crumble beneath you like an avalanche that is waiting."

●●○~ Lindsey Hobart ~○●●

Ghost sat in his dimly lit room, the blue glow from the laptop screen casting sharp shadows across his masked features. Laswell's voice echoed in his ears, calm yet commanding.

"You have to go undercover to gather some intel," she instructed, her face a picture of seriousness on the screen. Ghost's fists clenched, his eyes narrowing as deep creases appeared at the corners. He remained silent, absorbing the gravity of the assignment.

"You'll be posing as a high school student. We have made all the arrangements. The principal and teachers are informed. We need important intel about a person working there. I'm sending you a report. Read it," Laswell said, her tone leaving no room for discussion. She hung up the video call before Ghost could utter a word.

"Fuck!" Ghost cursed, his frustration evident. "Now I have to become a fucking high schooler," he spat, the absurdity of the situation gnawing at him.

As a highly trained SAS soldier and an elite killing machine, Ghost was used to the most dangerous and covert missions. But this? This was entirely different. How the hell was he supposed to blend in as a high schooler with his massive height and muscular build? He would look like a fish out of water, a grown man playing dress-up.

He opened the report Laswell had sent, scanning through the details of his new identity and the target he needed to surveil. The mission was critical, he reminded himself. He had faced worse odds and more dangerous situations. But even as he reassured himself, the thought of navigating the social labyrinth of a high school filled him with a unique dread.

"Guess it's time to go back to school," he muttered under his breath, already strategizing how he would tackle this bizarre new mission.

Ghost scanned the report, eyes moving quickly over the lines of text. Someone from the office staff was involved in terrorist activity, and the school's security was compromised. The specifics were still murky, but the mission was clear: infiltrate, gather intel, and neutralize the threat.

As he read, his phone buzzed with an incoming message. It was Soap.

"Hey, high schooler! Need help picking out your backpack?" Soap's message read, followed by a string of laughing emojis.

Ghost growled in irritation. Soap had been making fun of him since he got the assignment. In truth, Ghost thought Soap was the one who was fit for this job. With his leaner build and younger appearance, Soap would blend in effortlessly. But orders were orders.

"You're just jealous you can't relive your glory days," Ghost shot back, though he knew Soap would get a kick out of his reply.

He closed the report and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. This mission was unlike any he had faced before. It required a different kind of camouflage, a different kind of patience. He was about to step into a world of teenage drama, cliques, and homework. But he would adapt, as he always did. He had no choice.

Monday morning arrived too quickly. Ghost stood in his small apartment, the usual grey hoodie and sweatpants hanging off his frame. Soap had helped him gather the essential school supplies: notebooks, pens, and a new backpack that didn't look out of place for a high schooler. He slung the backpack over his shoulder and slipped on his skull-printed balaclava. His identity had to be hidden at all costs.

He climbed into his Range Rover and drove to the school, parking a distance away to avoid drawing attention. With a deep sigh, he exited the vehicle and made his way to the school entrance.

The moment he stepped into the corridor, the contrast of his presence was stark. Teenagers milled about, chatting and laughing, but Ghost felt like a fish out of water. His height and build made him stand out like a sore thumb, despite the hoodie and balaclava doing their best to conceal his identity.

He pushed forward, reminding himself of the mission's importance. He needed to find his way to the office, get his bearings, and begin gathering intel. The corridor seemed endless, each step echoing with the sounds of lockers slamming and indistinct chatter.

"Fucking Hell," he muttered under his breath, trying to blend in as much as a heavily-built, masked adult could in a sea of high schoolers.

Ghost made his way to the last classroom on the K-12 hallway, assigned as a senior posing as an 18-year-old. Despite being 29 with a muscular build, he hoped to blend in with the 12th graders.

He opened the door and walked in, immediately feeling the curious eyes of his new classmates on him. Ignoring the stares, he scanned the room for any signs of the person he was here to investigate. The teacher, a middle-aged woman with a warm smile, looked up from her desk.

"You must be the new student," she said, motioning him to an empty seat near the back. "Welcome."

Ghost nodded and made his way to the seat, keeping his head down. He dropped his backpack on the floor and settled in, trying to seem as inconspicuous as possible. The other students eventually lost interest, returning to their conversations and distractions.

As the teacher began the lesson, Ghost's mind raced. He knew he had to keep a low profile while also staying alert for any signs of suspicious activity. His eyes roved over the room, memorizing faces and noting behaviors. The target could be anyone-an unsuspecting office staff member, a seemingly innocent teacher, or even a fellow student.

The day had been a tedious blur for Ghost, each monotonous class blending into the next. Used to the adrenaline of combat and the precision of sniper shots, he found the slow pace of high school unbearable. But all that changed when you entered the room.

Your presence was electrifying, a stark contrast to the dull atmosphere. The click of your red Louboutin pumps echoed in the silent classroom as you made your way to the front. Your black dress pants, stylishly slit, and button-up shirt under a sleek black blazer highlighted your figure. Long, blonde hair cascaded down your back, framing your big blue eyes and perfectly pink lips.

Ghost felt a surge of desire course through him, his mind racing with thoughts he knew he shouldn't entertain. He imagined gripping your tiny waist, pulling you close, feeling your petite frame against his as he lost himself in you. The urge to take you, to dominate you, was almost overwhelming.

"Hey! Newbie, are you listening?" Your voice cut through his fantasies, pulling him back to reality.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, his husky British accent barely masking his distraction.

"Your name?" you asked, standing near his desk, your eyes meeting his.

"Simon," he answered, using his real name to avoid any potential mistakes.

"Well, Simon, try to pay attention," you said with a faint smile before returning to the front of the class.

As you began the lesson, Ghost forced himself to focus, but it was a losing battle. His thoughts kept drifting back to you, and the way your presence stirred something primal within him. He needed to remember his mission, but in that moment, all he could think about was how desperately he wanted you.

The period ended, and Ghost watched you leave the classroom, struggling to control his thoughts. You stood out among the middle-aged teachers, looking so young, no older than 25. How could someone like you be teaching 12th graders? The question burned in his mind, but it was more than just curiosity; he was captivated by you.

He barely remembered the rest of the day, his mind fixated on you. As soon as he could, he retreated to his apartment. The urge to release the tension was overwhelming. Stripping off his clothes, he stepped into the shower, the hot water cascading over his muscular frame. His cock was already hard, fueled by the image of your lips wrapped around him.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hand wrapping around his shaft. He imagined you on your knees, your pink, plump lips taking the full length of his cock in, your big blue eyes looking up at him with a mix of innocence and desire. His strokes quickened, his other hand gripping the air as he fantasized about it tangled in your long, blonde hair.

His body tensed, muscles straining as he neared the edge. The thought of you sucking him off, your pretty little mouth taking him deeper, his cum all over your face pushed him over. He climaxed hard, a guttural groan escaping him as he came, the pearly liquid mixing with the warm water and flowing down his thick thighs.

Leaning against the shower wall, he panted heavily, trying to catch his breath. The intensity of his release did little to quell the longing he felt. As the water washed away the evidence of his fantasy, he knew he was in trouble. This mission was supposed to be about gathering intel, but his thoughts kept drifting back to you. He needed to stay focused, but the image of your gorgeous face and enticing body lingered in his mind, a distraction he couldn't afford yet couldn't resist.

The next day, Ghost found himself eagerly anticipating school, though for entirely different reasons than his usual missions. From the moment he had first seen you, you became his muse, eclipsing the seriousness of his undercover assignment. Dressed in blue jeans, a black T-shirt, and a sleek black leather jacket that concealed his tattoo sleeve, he waited through all six periods just for a glimpse of you.

When you finally entered the classroom, the atmosphere seemed to shift. Students greeted you warmly, but Ghost's attention was solely on you. You wore high heels that accentuated your figure, a casual T-shirt, and form-fitting pencil jeans that emphasized your curves. It was undeniable-you were the most stunning woman he had ever encountered.

As you distributed MCQ papers among the students, you approached Ghost's desk. Your curiosity got the better of you as you inquired about his mask. "Why are you wearing a mask?" you asked, your voice filled with genuine curiosity.

"I get sunburn," he replied smoothly, trying to maintain his cover.

You chuckled softly, the sound sending a thrill down Ghost's spine. "Weirdo," you whispered teasingly, but your words were loud enough for him to hear. The image of dominating you right there, bending you over the desk, fucking you from behind and hearing you begging to stop, flashed vividly in his mind, your body arched in his hands, pussy clenched around his length as he rails his full length till the hilt into you, ruin your pretty little cunt for everyone while you screaming out his name.

"Concentrate on your paper, weirdo," you mocked again as you moved away.

His jaw clenched with frustration, anger simmering beneath the surface. Despite the rush of desire coursing through him, he remained stoic and silent, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. He knew indulging in these fantasies could compromise his mission, yet resisting the pull of attraction toward you seemed almost impossible. Ghost was torn between duty and desire, unsure how much longer he could keep his composure around you.

He had finished his paper along with the other students as the bell rang, signaling the end of the period. One by one, they handed their work to you, you seated at your desk. Ghost lingered, the last student to leave, quietly closing the door behind him. Remaining seated, he watched you intently.

Stealth was his forte, and he approached you silently. You were small compared to him, your back elegantly arched as you organized the papers into a neat pile. Standing right behind you, he suppressed the urge to touch you. Suddenly, you moved back, inadvertently brushing against the bulge in his pants. A squeak escaped your lips as you jumped, startled like a bunny, and turned around.

Leaning heavily against the table, you panted, eyeing the behemoth of a man standing before you at his full height for the first time. A shiver ran down your spine from the sensation of his arousal against you. He stood there with a menacing look in his eyes, extending his paper to you. With shaky hands, you took it, feeling a jolt as his gloved hand brushed against you.

Without a word, he turned and left the classroom.

Throughout the drive to his apartment, he couldn't shake the image of you, how your inadvertent touch had stirred a primal urge within him. How you bumped into his erect cock ready to sprung out. The urgency of his mission weighed heavily on his mind, but thoughts of you kept intruding.

Later that day, consumed by desire, he found himself jerking off imagining you once more. He couldn't help but picture your round ass, the sensation of you against him, his cock stretching your gummy walls as he fucks you doggy style, the fantasies growing more vivid with each passing moment. It was a distraction he couldn't afford, yet couldn't ignore.

The next day, he arrived at the school as usual, anticipation swirling within him. Your period had become his favorite, and he waited patiently until you appeared, as usual, with an air of cautious awareness. As the lesson progressed, you couldn't help but notice his chocolate brown eyes fixed on you through his balaclava.

He was no ordinary teenager - tall, dark, and undeniably handsome even with a balaclava on his face, with a presence that set him apart. You felt the weight of his gaze, the tilt of his head to the side like a predator sizing up its prey. Despite the distraction, you continued with your class routine, distributing checked papers to the students, your focus unwavering on your mission.

His gaze remained locked on you, unwavering, as if he had something more than mere curiosity driving his attention. You knew you couldn't afford to be distracted, not with what was at stake.

As you hurriedly left the classroom, your footsteps echoing in the empty corridor, you reached for your cellphone and stepped into the quiet solitude of the bathroom. With a hushed voice, you spoke into the receiver, "Yes! Tomorrow is the day. We will hunt another doe tomorrow."

Across the line, a voice crackled with excitement, "Perfect. After school, then?"

"Yes," you affirmed, nodding to yourself. "After school." With that, you hung up, slipping the phone back into your pocket.

Unbeknownst to you, Ghost known as Simon, the new student who had been quietly observing the dynamics of his new environment, had overheard your conversation.

From the first day of his undercover assignment, Ghost had sensed something amiss. How could a 25-year-old teacher be instructing seniors when others with more experience were available? It gnawed at him, a puzzle piece that refused to fit neatly into place. As he stood in the hallway, a vicious smirk spread across his face.

"So you are the one," he whispered to himself, the realization sinking in. "And now, there's nobody that can save you from me. Not even yourself." His mission had taken a dark turn. You are the one involved in human trafficking.

Tomorrow was the day Ghost knew he had to act swiftly. He slipped on his skull mask, adjusted his gear-blue jeans, black hoodie, and vest. His Beretta rested against his chest while his sniper rifle was ready on the passenger seat of his car.

He parked in the nearly deserted school lot, waiting patiently. It was nearly two hours past school hours when he spotted you approaching from the back of the building. You met with another person near a car.

"The girl is in the bathroom, I've hidden her there. Wait here, let me take her out," you said.

Without hesitation, Ghost aimed his sniper rifle at the man's head and took the shot. Skull fragments and brain matter scattered as the bullet found its mark. A scream tore from your lips as chaos erupted.

Ghost calmly placed the sniper rifle on the seat and stepped out of his car. You saw him approaching and instinctively ran. Darkness was descending, the winter chill settling in.

You ran for your life, heart pounding with fear, but Ghost closed the distance quickly. Desperation set in as you realized you had no weapon. You took out a pocket knife and attempted to attack, but Ghost deftly seized your wrist, disarming you.

You screamed and struggled, but he immobilized you, securing your wrists with a zip tie. With a forceful push, he slammed your back against a car, the impact knocking the breath from your lungs.

Fear and confusion engulfed you as Ghost stood before you, his identity finally revealed, and his intentions chillingly clear.

"Let me go," you tried to scream as he pinned you against the car, looming over you. His 6'4" frame towered over you, casting a dark shadow. The edge of his knife pressed against your throat qnd his hand on your chest kept you pinned against the car.

"Just got you. Now I can't let you go, won't let you go," he whispered in your ear with his husky voice. "How can I waste this pretty little cunt of yours, princess?"

You whimpered and squirmed, fear coursing through your veins. His hand traveled to your neck, his grip so firm that you could barely breathe. You struggled to breath. Your vision blurred as darkness enveloped you, and you melted into his arms like putty.

You went limp in his arms like a rag doll, a pretty little thing for him to play with. He strapped you into the passenger in his car seat and drove off, his mind racing with twisted excitement.

He stroked your hairs with his fingers while he drove. He just had got his little plaything.

Upon reaching his apartment, he carried you inside, laying you gently on the soft sheets of his bed. Even in your unconscious state, you looked so beautiful and irresistible. His excitement grew, his cock twitched from the anticipation building as he stood over you, lost in the dark allure of the moment.

You whimpered as you slowly opened your eyes. Ghost was perched on a couch in front of you. Sitting up slowly, you noticed your hands were still tied in your lap. Your tiny body shivered at the sight of him as he rose to his full height. The room seemed small, his eyes behind the skull mask full of menace, looking straight through you. Your lips quivered with fear as he approached.

"Wakey, wakey, Princess," he taunted, stepping out of the shadows. His blue jeans were tight around his thick thighs, and his black hoodie strained to contain his muscular physique. The skull mask shone dimly in the light. The tattoo peeked through the space between his sleeve and his gloved hand.

You gulped, "Who are you?" you asked in a small voice.

"Ghost. Heard the name before?" He tilted his head to the side, and realization hit you hard-it was Simon.

"What do you want?" you barely whispered.

"You," was his only reply as he stepped closer.

A whimper escaped your lips as you pulled yourself to the other side of the bed and stood up.

"Don't make this hard for yourself, Princess."

Panting, you frantically ran towards the door, but his hands were around your waist in no time. He slammed you against the wall, the impact sending pain throbbing through your back.

His hand smacked the wall beside your head. The barrel of his gun made contact with your chin.

"Look at me!" he shouted, his voice an order. You squeaked in response, your eyes meeting his.

"Good girl," he praised, his hot breath fanning against your face. "I'm a lieutenant, not your average student, and you have to comply-or else." The barrel of his Beretta poked under your ribs. "Choices have consequences," he said softly this time.

"I've been thinking about your body since the day I saw you." He stroked the soft skin of your chest with his gun, trailing it down the valley between your breasts. Your skin quivered under the touch of the cold metal.

"So irresistible, Princess." His husky voice sent shivers down your spine.

You gasped as he snapped your ziptie with a strength so brute it took only a second to come off. Your buttoned blouse came next as he snapped it apart. All the buttons came crashing down on thefloor. Your pearly necklace was snatched from your neck. The pearls came rolling down on the floor.

You gasped as he snapped your bra from the front. Your perky breasts liberated from the confines of the lacy material.

He pulled his mask upto his nose and his lips grazed your neck as his thumb met your nipples squeezing your breasts so hard it was almost painful. A painful moan mixed with pleasure escaped through your lips.

He held you close by your waist and he chuckled as your small waist fitted so easily in both his hands all while kissing your neck while his hands played with the soft skin of your back.

"So soft like plush in my hands." He said as he rubbed your nipples with his rough thumb. A sexy hiss escaped your lips as you threw your head back biting your lips.

"You gave in so easily princess." He whispered. His sexy voice made you moan.

He tossed you over the bed, with a squeak you fell, soft sheets cushioning your back as you landed with a gasp.

His eyes, filled with a hunger that mirrored your own, locked onto yours. "Been waiting to bend you over that goddamn desk in that class and fuck your needy little cunt, princess," he confessed, his voice low and husky with desire.

As he removed his hoodie, revealing a canvas of scars that gleamed against his muscular frame, you couldn't help but gasp. Each scar told a story of battles fought and survived, adding to the allure of his rugged demeanor. His predatory approach, intensified by the skull mask he wore, sent a thrill through your veins. He moved closer with a confident stride, his presence filling the room with a primal intensity that both thrilled and unnerved you.

You gasped as he closed the distance. His hands reached for the strap of your jeans, deftly unbuttoning them with a deliberate touch. With a smooth motion, he slid the denim down your legs, revealing your bare skin in the soft moonlight filtering through the curtains.

"So beautiful," he murmured, his voice a low rasp that sent a shiver down your spine. You laid exposed before him, feeling both vulnerable and empowered by his gaze.

You knew you were powerless infront of him and he will have his way with you one way or another. Wetness had already pooled between your legs and you were trying hard to hide it by closing them.

He traced the barrel of his gun along the soft skin of your inner thighs. Shivers ran down your spine as you felt the cold metal against your sensitive skin.

"Open your legs Princess." He ordered slowly parting your thighs.

"So sensitive, aye?" he said with a mocking tone.

You hissed at the sensation. He slowly pressed the barrel against your clothed folds, eliciting a moan from your lips.

"Please! I beg you, don't do this," you pleaded, my voice trembling.

"Look at you! A wet, hot mess for me," he sneered.

He knelt before you, his hands reaching for your panties. With one tug, he tore the strap, leaving you completely exposed.

"You should thank me, princess, that I'm gentle with you. I'm not very gentle with women. They run from me after what I do to them," he laughed.

Your breath hitched in your throat. "Oh my god," you moaned.

He opened your legs slowly, his fingers parting your folds as he gently touched your swollen clit. Your body quivered with the sensation.

"So soft, so sensitive," he said, as he slid his rough fingers inside you.

A slow scream escaped your lips as your pussy clenched around his fingers. Your back arched, moans spilling from your mouth. He watched your face contort with pleasure as he leaned down, his tongue making circles around the buds of your nipples.

You clutched the sheets, your eyes shut tight as his fingers curled up, hitting just the right spot.

"You sound so pretty, love," he teased, his tongue continuing to play with your nipple. The sensation was heavenly, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

He adjusted himself between your thighs, kissing your entire body as he moved down toward your stomach and then your most sensitive part.

He gently kissed the inside of your thighs before his tongue met your folds. Screams of pleasure spilled from your pretty mouth as he nipped and sucked at your already swollen bud.

"Oh, fuck!" you moaned.

He kept teasing your folds with his tongue, sucking your wetness as he held your hips tightly in place.

He kept torturing you with his tongue until you couldn't take it anymore.

"I-I can't take it anymore," you begged.

"Ssh!" he whispered, placing a finger on your lips. "You're going to take it, just a little longer."

Your body trembled as he continued his relentless assault with his tongue, the pleasure overwhelming. He moved his finger from your lips to your clit, rubbing it in slow, torturous circles while his tongue continued its work.

"Please," you whimpered, your voice cracking with desperation.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Beg me," he commanded softly.

"Please, please, I need more," you cried out, your body aching for release.

A satisfied smirk played on his lips. "Good girl," he said, his voice low and husky. He increased the pressure of his tongue and finger, driving you closer to the edge. "Now, let go for me."

With his words, you felt the dam break, and waves of ecstasy crashed over you. Your back arched, and a guttural moan escaped your lips as you finally reached your climax. He continued his movements, drawing out every last bit of pleasure from your trembling body.

As you lay there, breathless and spent, he gently kissed your inner thighs before moving up to your face.

You were still high when he unzipped his pants.

"Been waiting for this ever since I laid my eyes on you," he said, taking his cock and positioning himself on top of you.

You looked at him with dazed eyes.

"Like what you see, princess?" he asked with a smirk.

"I-I can't do this," you pleaded.

"You can do this, and you will," he replied firmly.

He pressed his cock against your entrance, bending you down. Without warning, he pushed his entire length inside, pinning your wrists against the bed. You screamed as your walls wrapped around him, your body struggling to adjust to his size while he fucked you deeply, not giving you any time to acclimate.

You were completely at his mercy, a plaything for his desires.

"Fuck! Princess, you feel so tight around me," he growled, thrusting in deeply.

You were breathless, disoriented by the intensity of it all. He drove into you with unrelenting force, hitting inside you to the extreme. Your back arched under him as waves of pain and pleasure coursed through you. His cock was so big it made an impression inside your belly where it hit.

"How does it feel, me ruining your pretty pussy, love?" he growled, sitting back on his knees and gripping your waist tightly.

Your eyes rolled back as he railed into you with brute force, the sensations overwhelming and consuming.

Whimpers escaped your lips as his hips thrusted against your pelvis. Skin to skin, the intense connection between you sparked a fire that threatened to consume you both. You hid your face in the soft pillow, the tears mingling with your whimpers, your cries echoing in the room like a haunting melody.

He chuckled at the sight before him, the raw vulnerability and passion in your every movement only adding to the intoxicating air surrounding them. "Look at you, eh," he murmured, his voice a low growl filled with satisfaction. "Taking me so well."

With a sudden move, he lifted you up by your waist, your heart racing a mile a minute, your vision blurred with the overwhelming sensation of being completely lost in him. "Oh my god, I am gonna die," you whined, the words a mix of fear and ecstasy that only served to fuel the flames of desire burning between you both.

But he just chuckled, his hold on you firm and reassuring. "Not on my watch, luv," he whispered, his voice a comforting anchor in the whirlwind of emotions and pleasure that threatened to consume you.

He pulled out abruptly, spinning you around and delivering a stinging slap to your ass.

You clutched the sheets as he seized your hips, pulling you towards him and plunging deep inside once more. A primal groan escaped his lips as he grabbed your hair, tilting your head back and driving himself deeper with each thrust.

Your impassioned cries only fueled his intensity. With a firm grip on your waist, he pounded into you relentlessly, embodying the raw, primal desire of a man possessed. Your body arched and trembled on the bed as he pinned you down by your head, pressing your face into the bed.

"I can't do this anymore," you begged him.

He pulled you up onto your knees, his free hand gently gripping your neck while his other arm rested between the valley of your breasts. His hold on your neck was firm but not painful, asserting his control. With a strong grip on your waist, he thrust deep into you.

You leaned against his chest, your face turning towards him as you neared your release. He captured your lips in a hungry kiss, swallowing your moans.

His cock twitched and pulsed as he reached his climax. His movements grew erratic as he poured himself into you, filling you with his essence.

Exhausted, you collapsed onto the bed, eyes shutting tight as the waves of ecstasy washed over you.

He settled beside you, carefully tucking you under the sheets while you lay on your stomach, peacefully asleep.

"Sleep well, princess," he murmured, his fingers gently caressing your hair.

The next morning, you woke to find him already seated on the couch, wearing the same skull-printed balaclava, his eyes still filled with menace. Your whole body ached and marked with hickeys. Last nights encounter spiralled in your mind.

"Good morning, princess. I hope you're feeling well," he greeted you, tossing an oversized t-shirt in your direction.

Confusion and fear gripped you. "Who are you? Why did you do this to me? What were you even doing in my class?"

"I'm Lieutenant Simon Riley, also known as Ghost," he replied coolly. "I was in your class because we've been keeping an eye on you. Now, get dressed. You have visitors."

You rose silently and headed to the bathroom to change. As you finished, there came a knock at the door.

He opened it, and police officers entered the room.

"She's all yours," he stated with a smirk beneath his balaclava.

"You'll regret this! I'll make you pay for this!" you screamed as they cuffed you and led you away.

"Fuck you!" You screamed.

He chuckled darkly, watching as you were taken into custody.

"I just did." He winked as you were taken away.

[nebulaedaniel]

devastated that phil brought up what he was thinking at the time of dans bad fashion choices. the leather shirt. not wearing belts ever. because yeah of course we know they’ve been side by side for 15 years, they’ve seen every side of each other. but the glimpse into their past, somewhat early relationship and the discussions being had about life?? the choices that they make and what the other person thinks of it? the leather shirt especially is doing a number on me

it was ten years ago! looking at dan and phil and who they are now, it’s so bizarre that they’ve grown into these people, together. do you know what i mean? maybe im just a lesbian but if my boyfriend insisted on wearing and defended that kind of fuck ugly clothing (ilysm dan), we would sit down and discuss it. did that happen?

we know that they bicker, as anyone does.. but doesn’t it feel likely that it’s mostly over essentially meaningless things? the hoodie moment especially haunts me, along with the “we’re not talking at the moment” that happened around the same time.

they obviously wouldn’t share if they had some big disagreements, only the small anecdotes that can be amusing, like the strings on the hoodie.

“we’re not talking at the moment” though.. it really seemed like phil was genuinely upset/confused by it. the voice he used when replying haunts me in my sleep.

phil just mentioning that he was stressed about dan wearing the leather shirt and feeling the need to “sit him down” about the belts.. felt like such a glimpse into their life off-screen that i wasn’t prepared for

[pippin-katz]

New here. Just discovering and exploring #RWRB fandom on Tumblr and, random thoughts about the film (haven't had time to read the book yet) keep popping up in my head.

In the museum scene and at the airport afterward, has Henry borrowed the blue hoodie that Alex wears several times earlier in the movie (beginning when Alex talks to Nora about Henry kissing him)? Or do they both happen to own the same blue hoodie?

Why do you think Henry decides to bring Alex to the V&A? Did Henry just want to show Alex the gilded cage he feels trapped in as part of letting Alex go? Or is Henry deliberately moving another step closer by revealing a little more about himself? I've been struck that at the airport, Henry asks Alex to "be patient," but he doesn't say "I love you" back to Alex and walks away with a pained expression on his face.

Loving your blog, and the others I've discovered here...

Welcome! Sorry for the late response, I'm a senior in college with ADHD and autism so sometimes asks get put in the background of my mind for a while lol

1) At first, a lot of people thought they were sharing the blue hoodie you're referring to, but when you look closer, it's two different hoodies. They're practically the same shade of blue (most GIFs are edited with different color effects & filters), but you can tell because of the pull strings! Alex's pull strings have folded tips whereas Henry's has aglets, or plastic, at the ends.

2) In the books, Henry takes Alex to the museum the day after their fight, after they've agreed that they're both committed to their relationship. It's just a piece of Henry's life that he's enthusiastic about and wants to share with him before he goes home.

In the movie, there's lots of explanations and theories as to why Henry takes him during their fight. I can share you my thought process, but you can definitely find other interpretations! I think it's a sort of combination of the things you said!

In the museum, Henry can be himself without the influence of the outside world. It allows him to make a decision with a clear head, as "Henry Fox" rather than "Prince Henry of Wales". He also intends to say goodbye, but he wants Alex to know that it has nothing to do with whether or not he loves him.

The museum is his safe space, his sanctuary, and a sacred memory of his father. He loves Alex more than anything, and proves it by showing how much he trusts him by sharing the V&A with him. He says that he has dreamed of bringing someone he loved there, indirectly telling him that he is that someone he loves.

However, he follows that up by calling it a "daft pubescent fantasy". Henry does not believe that a future with Alex is possible, and he is preparing himself to let him go, but then Alex surprises him.

Henry essentially says that he cannot have love, and he was foolish to even imagine it. Alex says that he can, and that there is nothing foolish about him to wanting it.

It's because of this that Henry changes his mind, but it doesn't automatically make everything easy. They still can't be public. That's why Henry doesn't say he loves Alex back, or allow him to kiss him. He wants to, but it's risky to kiss in the open, even on a private airstrip, and Alex is about to leave, so it hurts too much. Henry does not want Alex to go, especially after such an emotionally exhausting night.

At least, that's how I interpret the scene! I hope that gives you some answers or info to think about!

Thanks for reading!! If you enjoyed this essay & would like to support me, you can give me a tip on my Ko-Fi! ☺️

[8ball-wizard]

I woke up today from a dream that included a wizard and I thought you might enjoy:

Old man with a long braided beard wearing a neon blue (possibly glowing) hooded robe that only goes down to his waist so it's kinda like a hoodie.

Hot pink booty shorts with an embroidered arcane sigil on the cheeks in color-changing string that is essentially the magical equivalent of a malicious QR code in that when you see it your mind processes it such that you see a vision of what is presumably the wizard equivalent of a Rickroll.

What that might look like, I haven't the faintest idea. I just know that's what it does.

Also, sneakers made out of some translucent crystal or glass.

I'm struggling to remember what the wizard was doing, but I know it was in a Home Depot.

........... may have accidentally projected myself into your dreamscape. to eat the paint chips. i'm sure you understand.

[mintymuses-podcast-edition]

A larger breakdown on Atlas's suit details —

Image one: Atlas's pre-Spider Society suit. They made this when they needed to conceal their identity and were just getting into their work as the Spider — all this stuff was what they had on hand. They didn't exactly have the money to spend on fancy fabric so their suit consisted of an old hoodie that they attacked with silver thread so it looked like it had webs on it. This was their visual interpretation of an ability they were starting to develop. Atlas has something I call the shining webs, which is essentially the ability to create invisible puppet strings to bend someone to their will. They don't always work on avatars of the Eye, since they can occasionally see the shining webs, but they work on most other life forms and especially people afraid of being manipulated.

Image two: Atlas's society suit, created after they joined. Their pants have been modified a bit more(patches detailed in image three; their thinking was if it isn't broke, no need to fix it, and they thought the pants were nice and durable) but their upper half design is new. They had access to new and reinforced materials and by god they took them.

[serenedash]

HOW did you make your Baldr cosplay. You've inspired me to wanna try and make one too, got any tips on doing it?

aaaaaa I feel so honored I inspired you!!!! ;0; my disclaimer is that I am the farthest thing from a professional lol, but I will show you how I did it! My cosplay philosophy is that I am lazy and want to spend as little money as possible ⭐ I always use clothes I already own, the base outfit I already owned I only needed to get the belts, hoodie and wig

This is long I'm so sorry I just went thru the whole process :')

Here is every part of the finished cosplay:

Boots

Black jeans

Pants chain (mine is just an old one from hot topic)

Blue belts x2 (got these on Amazon, $10 USD each)

Black shirt + vest (or you can do one black button down, in canon Baldr looks like he's wearing a black vest over a white shirt but I felt like my vest was too low it would've looked weird)

Black fingerless gloves

Hoodie (Amazon, $18 USD) + tassel (Joann's Fabrics $10 USD)

Mark of mastery by MadeByFjori on Etsy ($6 USD) I bought it unpainted to save money and just got some metallic gold paint :) its really good quality and shipped fast! I had taped a safety pin on the back of it to attach it to the hoodie (I had tried super gluing it but it mf broke off!!! Tape it is,)

Wig (mine is the Skyelar classic in silver from Arda Wigs!) If you have no experience styling wigs that's fine since Baldr's hair is so choppy that if you fuck it up it works LOL I always style my wigs while wearing them thats just me, I brushed the hair in front of my face and cut the bangs around the bottom of my eyes and went from there. I also cut part of the sides framing my face

If you have dark hair like me I recommend a skin colored wig cap!!! Dark hair spilling out from a white wig will look weird, they sell them kn the Arda Wigs site

Optional: Starlight keyblade from Spirit Halloween ($40 USD) it's solid plastic, lightweight and looks amazing! The only bad thing I've found is the keychain just. Is not durable. Last year it broke off at a convention and I lost it 😔

Optional: face mask by KumalatteCreations on Etsy ($16 USD) I wear it with all my KH cosplays lol I have 2 masks for cosplay from them, really great quality, fit and has a place to insert a filter. I have the OSFA teen/women size because my face is tiny :')

Okay but let's talk real shit: the Hoodie. It's a plain white sweatshirt from Amazon, size up to get that oversized look Baldr has. Also disclaimer: do NOT get a thick hoodie I tried my best to get a light weight one and oh my god. For something that is essentially Just Sleeves I was SWEATING TO DEATH okay anyway materials:

Hoodie base

Gold fabric (I bought 1 yard and had more than enough)

Black buttons x2

Black ribbon

Tassel

Fabric scissors, fabric glue, needle/thread, safety pins

Black and orange markers

If you get a hoodie like mine where the hood strings have metal around the edges, use white paint or white out (I did not have time to buy white paint,) to paint over the metal so its not distracting

Now the How To:

Pull out your hood strings if applicable, paint any metal like I mentioned above

Use fabric glue to add black ribbon around the sleeves, do this in sections not all at once, do the ends of the ribbon around the back of your armpit to hide the ends. On my hoodie there was a hem on the sleeves that I followed so it was easy to make it even on both sides

Crop sweatshirt in half and cut down the middle front but DO NOT go all the way to the top where the hood is, stop about 2 inches away from it otherwise you will be me having to sew that shit back together

Measure where you want the front to fold open, you will probably have to cut more off of the sweatshirt bc if its too big you will be pinning that shit onto the top of your shoulders, basically shorter in the front and longer in the back (I know mine is so messy I didn't measure I just guessed I know wtf @ me-)

Flip hoodie inside-out and add gold fabric to the inside of the hoodie, leave about half an inch room around the edge for hemming, yes the entire inside too, I found that when I moved around I could see the back of the inside and it looks weird when the gold fabric suddenly stops

If you have a sewing machine or want to do this by hand then fold over the edges and hem it on top of the gold (not me tho I was con crunching and glued that shit all the way around,) it cleans up the edges and adds the white border to the part you will pin open

What I WANTED to do was to sew the buttons onto the hoodie and add button holes on what would get pinned but I did not have the time so I sewed the buttons directly onto the front pieces so when I fold it open I used 2 safety pins on each side to hold it up

For the tassel: I colored it with a peachy/light orange sharpie and a black one. I measured how long I wanted it to be and cut the other end off and used fabric glue on the end to stop fraying. I wrap it around the buttons and do a simple loop knot to keep it in place

if you end up doing what I did irt the tassel, don't go in with a regular orange marker bc it came out so dark on the fabric its made of like I just happened to have this peach/skin tone sharpie that came out the right shade on the gold fabric

Finally, pin the mark of mastery in place!

Now you are Baldr :)

[sburbian-sage]

I've heard that there are certain numbers that are "lucky" or that come up a lot in the game's code or that are otherwise meaningful. Most often I hear 413, but some say that each session has it's own "special number".

Is this just a bullshit rumor?

Not at all. It's bullshit to call it a "lucky number", because luck doesn't exist (outside of how it is tangibly and demonstrably manipulated by the Light Aspect), and because the manner in which it is "meaningful" is highly variable. Most of the time it's some obtuse easter egg that only makes sense to one group of people, if they notice it, sometimes it is indeed portentous, sometimes it just gets spammed everywhere. But all that aside, this is all documented and true.

If you want to know the secret behind the "recurring number" phenomenon, it boils down to junk data and re-used assets, basically. SBURB is absolutely brimming with useless, near-useless, sometimes-useful, and mostly inane numbers and values. The most well-known instance of this is the Carbon Nadsat meta-value, which determines what your God Tier Hoodie looks like. Extremely useless to know, but the last digit of the Carbon Nadsat string shows up on a specific mirror in the Panoramic Imaginarium, which is doubly useless and only exists to cause confusion. It mainly seems like I'm shouting brain damage at you, and I am, but I'm just establishing the base here.

What happens next is that this "junk number" gets noticed by the game. I imagine due to a programming error of some sort, but it could potentially be deliberate, if it "needed" a number and so scours its own code for one. Once noticed though, the "junk number" gets turned into a "recurring number" due to the game's own pattern-seeking behaviors. SBURB is basically an elaborate attempt to craft a grand narrative or mythoi of sorts, or a "shitty play where you don't have a script and the audience shoots you if you're a bad actor" as some people think. Your Class and Aspect are themes you craft a character from, your Land and Quest are a "stage" and framework that character can evolve from, and in much the same way those elements are made relevant over and over again for the player's "benefit" of being able to play their role, the number essentially become another recurring motif. Not one it enforces, I don't think anyone died because they purposefully scheduled an important event a day off from their session's "significant date", but it recurs nonetheless, and the game might follow its own baton by either causing events to manifest around the number, or the number to manifest around events.

As for why 413 is a common number, I think it's because April 13 is the "official launch date" of SBURB. That one's pretty consistent. Not everyone played the game on 4/13 mind you, sometimes they received it on 4/13 and played it weeks or months later, sometimes they got their hands on an unofficial leak, and sometimes they find it tucked away in a box somewhere, the game having released on an April 13 decades in the past. But no matter what, the constant is that SBURB launched on April 13. So I imagine 413 is a common "recurring number" either because of some Carbon Nadsat-esque shenanigans (where it's picks a number completely arbitrarily and it just happens to be that specific number most of the time), or because the release date is one of the first numbers you see in the "pre-session", and the game prioritizes it based off of what's on the player's minds.

[robbiefischer]

💝 - What gestures do they really appreciate? How do you get on their good side?

☕ - Coffee or tea?

💀 - How do they feel about horror movies?

💖 - How and how often do they try to impress their partner(s)? How and how often do their partner(s) impress them?

for your ladies!! :)

Tysm for asking about my girls! I'm going to do this for Jamila and Viola, Saoirse and Zoe, and Felicity and Shiloh. Jamila and Viola are both surgeons - Jamila's a plastic surgeon, and Viola's a trauma surgeon. Saoirse is a licensed esthetician and massage therapist and plays bass guitar in fables. Zoe is a hair stylist, and is a vocalist (and occasional strings player) in fables. Shiloh is a wedding and event planner, and Felicity owns a really cute little sweets & gelato shop in Maplewood, a small town right outside of New Islington. (Also tysm for your lovely prompt a few days ago! I love it and am really looking forward to working on it once I've finished this other ficlet I've got in progress.) Cut because this got really long.

💝 - What gestures do they really appreciate? How do you get on their good side?

Saoirse: Not to use love language terminology, but Saoirse really appreciates little acts of service, whether in romantic or platonic relationships. She loves it when people do little things for her without her having to ask. If Zoe takes her car out to gas it up and get it washed for her? Fantastic. Someone grabbing her water bottle to refill it for her while they're up getting themselves something? Amazing. She comes home late after a really long shift to a clean house and dinner made even though it was supposed to be her night to cook? The best. Getting a bit of a shoulder and temple massage from Zoe after work without having to give her puppy dog eyes? Incredible. A friend giving her their hoodie because she looks cold? She melts. She just really loves it when someone takes a responsibility off of her shoulders - could she do all of this herself? Yes, easily. But not having to is SO nice.

Zoe: Zoe's absolute favorite thing is probably being given small, unexpected gifts that make it clear that the giver really gets her and knows her well. They don't have to be big or expensive at all (frankly, she prefers it if they're not) but things like a hot cocoa bomb Saoirse grabbed for her at the store because she knows Zoe loves chocolate and cute things or a new pair of fuzzy socks because it's getting cold out and Zoe always has ice blocks for feet? Jasper (one of her work friends) bringing her her favorite tea latte when he runs out to get himself one without asking her if she wants one? A new mug because she broke hers, or a pretty postcard for her to put up at her station at the salon? Knowing someone was thinking of her like that makes her all warm and fuzzy inside.

Viola loves to be spoiled and surprised by the people who love her. She loves it when Jamila plans fancy date nights for the two of them (Jamila always goes *way* overboard, right down to picking out Viola's outfit for the night and often buying her a new dress or something), loves surprise fancy spa trips for a massage and facial, loves fancy gifts, loves it when her brother gifts her a gorgeous new bag after she gives him a long weekend break from his toddler who is very much in the throes of the terrible-twos. She is definitely a champagne tastes kind of girl, and thankfully she and her wife have the budget to match that.

Jamila loves praise and compliments more than pretty much anything else in the world. Yes, she is gorgeous. Yes, she is a brilliant surgeon. Yes, her sutures are utter perfection. Yes, that outfit is fabulous and suits her perfectly. Yes, she is the best wife ever. The meal she cooked for her and Viola after a long shift is amazing. She's the best sister-in-law ever and is just SO good with her baby niece. She knows all of this but she craves hearing it from other people at all times and will essentially purr like a very satisfied cat when it happens. Viola always makes sure to compliment her and praise her, even leaves her little notes to find which Jamila absolutely adores.

Shiloh is a very tactile person and loves physical touch more than anything else. She loves having her hair played with or braided, long, soft hugs, foot rubs (she REALLY loves a good foot rub), shoulder and back massages, snuggling on the couch with her girl, a friend rubbing her arm or squeezing her shoulder encouragingly when she's stressed, soft forehead kisses... she gets touch-starved easily and loves having her physical affection bank refreshed and poured into.

Felicity's favorite gestures are anything to do with feeding her. While she does actually enjoy cooking, it feels like SO much work a lot of the time and she'd rather just cry while she poured herself a bowl of cereal or ate shredded cheese right out of the bag bathed in the light of the fridge. Having someone cook for her or bring her a snack or order delivery for lunch for her while she's at work makes her feel all warm and fuzzy and cared for, whether it's Shiloh having her favorite comfort meal waiting after a really long day or her sister, Verity, dropping by the shop with a snack for her. The way to her heart is through her stomach.

☕ - Coffee or tea?

Viola is an "inject caffeine straight into my veins" kind of girl. She'll do cold brew with a couple of espresso shots on top, black coffee, quad shots, iced Americanos (no water, just ice to dilute it)... every great once in a while she'll indulge in a slightly sweet seasonal latte around the holidays but that's pretty rare and she couldn't have anything sweet be her every day drink.

Jamila, on the other hand, is really sensitive to the taste of bitter so while she likes coffee, she needs it to be sweet enough to cover the taste. She's not a big fan of mochas, but loves anything vanilla, caramel or hazelnut. She also loves tea, but mostly herbals and white teas because of the bitterness issue. Her favorite way to relax after a shift is with a mug of her favorite mint and rose white tea and a book in front of the fire.

Saoirse prefers tea and tea lattes (especially green teas or matcha lattes, although she'll never say no to herbals, chai, rooibos or other black teas), she really isn't a fan of coffee although she'll begrudgingly drink it if she's really dragging and just can't wake up or is super fatigued. Zoe knows something's up with her if she's willingly drinking coffee.

Zoe loves coffee, but she prefers it sweet (and preferably iced and blended and topped with whipped cream, unless it's really cold out). She's also a big fan of fancy hot cocoa - at least partly because she was never allowed it growing up and she's making up for lost time.

Felicity's a coffee person, but goes back and forth on whether or not she wants it sweet or not. It really just depends on the day. More often than not she prefers just a basic, unflavored latte but sometimes she'll go nuts and make herself something fancier.

Shiloh would rather have soda or an energy drink most days. She's not opposed to coffee or tea, although neither of them are daily drinks for her. She knows energy drinks really aren't great for her, but also she doesn't care. They work and that's what matters to her - girl is *all* about efficiency.

💀 - How do they feel about horror movies?

Viola loves horror movies, but they rarely scare her. She finds most of them funny, just... ridiculous and overwrought. Her job's kind of desensitized her to gore and blood, and she just doesn't believe in anything supernatural so none of it's real to her. She just finds them entertaining.

Jamila is scared of horror movies, but she'll watch them (the non-gory ones at least, she's not a fan of it or anything with torture) with Viola, usually peeking out from behind her hands while she watches with her wife all snuggled up next to her. Every time she jumps, Viola hugs her a bit tighter.

Saoirse and Zoe both like them, but only around Halloween. October is horror movie month, and neither of them will watch them the rest of the year. It's purely a "get in the mood for spooky season" thing for them, often while they're carving pumpkins or working on costumes. Zoe loves Halloween and goes all out for it, so they have to set the right vibe for it.

Felicity will not watch horror movies. She doesn't like them at all, they really scare her (she was raised really religious and while she's not any longer and has deconstructed, there's still a lot of horror movie content that revolves around things she was taught were "evil" and they still distress her even though she doesn't really believe in them) and it's just not something she's willing to compromise on.

Shiloh's not a big fan of them in general, but she's got a couple that she likes and will watch around Halloween but only if Felicity's out of the house doing something else. She doesn't want to risk her girl walking in on her watching one of them since she knows how much Felicity hates them.

💖 - How and how often do they try to impress their partner(s)? How and how often do their partner(s) impress them?

Okay, so this question is a bit hard to answer because I feel like most of my OCs don't really try to impress their partners although they might accomplish it unintentionally sometimes. They just... treat their partners really well and do things they know their partners like because they love them, but there's no real intent to impress if that makes sense? They just love their girls a lot and want them to be happy so they do things accordingly.

The only one I feel who really makes an effort to impress her girlfriend is Zoe and, frankly, a lot of that is a trauma response. She spent so much of her life not getting any recognition for the things she did and having her efforts actively diminished that she has a heightened need to be praised and recognized and to do things that get other people's attention. It's something she's working on in therapy, not desperately craving other people's affirmations as much and she's getting better about it.

[strange-august]

Tag Yourself based off Me and My Siblings

The Oldest Sibling:

Pure of heart, dumb of ass.

Seems mature but is a child at heart.

Feels self conscious about it most of the time.

Can be serious when they need to though, especially when it comes to the well-being and safety of their siblings.

Would kill and/or die for their siblings. They mean everything to them.

Always give their siblings first choice of everything.

Tends to wander off without telling anyone. Seriously. Keep a close eye on them in any public space.

Expressive, talks with their whole body, especially with their hands and arms.

Loves to tease and poke fun at their friends and siblings alike. All in good fun though. They would never do so maliciously.

Never hesitates to give you a hug or hold your hand. They might even kiss you on the cheek or the hand, if you're comfortable.

Always a shoulder to cry on and an ear to vent to. They might cry with you too.

Always kinda tired but gets particularly sleepy when it's cold or rainy. Will drag you into a cuddle session every time.

Tries to give their siblings good advice but it occasionally flops.

Drags their siblings on adventures constantly. Dislikes staying inside.

Amateur gardener. Plants mostly tomatoes and herbs, plus catnip to lure stray cats.

"Let's go down this route today! I wanna see what we can find!"

Aesthetic: String lights, exploring abandoned spaces, head in the clouds, fluffy comforters, rain on airplane windows, urban areas, burning leaves, baggy hoodies, ocean waves clouded with sand, milk tea, translucent curtains, open fields, sketchbooks and grided paper, bay windows, polished crystals, old cars, scented candles, essential oils, museums, combat boots, neon colored bandaids on fingers, plants in glass bottles, dancing in the forest with you, making shrines to the spirits of nature, grass stained jeans, animal themed onesies, mini cacti, flower blossoms in shoe holes

The Middle Sibling:

Probably the most mature one out of the bunch really.

A bit of a broken soul because of how many times they have been hurt in the past but still a kind, sweet person to hang out with.

Makes sure you're hydrated, fed, getting enough sleep, etc.

Not much of a touchy-feely person but when they are, it's sweet and genuine.

On another note, when they are in the mood to be playful, their teasing can even rival that of the oldest.

Loves to bake and wants to do it professionally someday.

Tries to keep the other two out of trouble.

Non confrontational and strives to keep the peace.

Lives by three rules: stay positive, let go of the past and never be afraid to ask for help.

Particular about their clothing.

Tends to wear a lot of solid dark and neutral tones but is actually the biggest sucker for bright colors and patterns.

Just a big sucker for soft things in general.

"Hey, I baked you your favorite treat as thanks for the new plushie. I loved it! It's gonna stay on my bed."

Aesthetic: Rubber bracelets, aluminum pins, buttercream frosting, sugar cookies, icing stained shirts and flour streaked face, pastel flowy sundresses, flower crowns, round rimmed glasses, experimenting with colors and patterns, wooden floors, silk ribbons, knit sweaters and cardigans, heart shaped barrettes, clouds illuminated by the sunset, long walks to nowhere, puddles on the sidewalk, berry lemonade, apple scented dish soap, stuffed animals, tear stained cheeks

The Youngest Sibling:

The most withdrawn of the three. Even has trouble being open and honest with their siblings.

Still a sweet person. They just need an occasional boost of confidence.

Hugest fan of video games ever, especially the ones from the 80s and 90s.

Actually dislikes going outside. Would prefer to stay indoors but still tags along with their siblings.

Basically lives in sweatpants.

Has the quirkiest little habits like how they sit in chairs or put on their jacket.

Has a huge collection of posters and replica weapons from their favorite video games.

Has the worst sleep schedule known to mankind.

Probably doesn't know what a hairbrush is.

Terrible at keeping their room clean but takes good care of their chores.

Often makes themselves a second dinner late in the night.

Knows the history of their favorite games front to back.

"I know you might not get it but thanks for letting me knowledge dump on you."

Aesthetic: Secrets behind closed doors, sleeping in late, lone wolf, inside voice, headphones, old photos, loud music, night owl, noisy keyboards, caffeine addiction, hooded jackets, worn out slip-ons, pet hair on clothes, thunderstorms, tired eyes, messy bedhead, late night snacking, retro game cartridges, neon lights, replica swords

[arachnidiots-a]

i don’t quite touch on liam’s mental health or state of mind much even though it’s a very crucial thing that is constantly behind a lot of why they do anything or act how they do or even dress in the nauseating colored outfits but coming home for liam is so much more difficult than they could’ve predicted.

the expectation that everyone knows them and their life is waiting for them is all so naive really. they’ve been gone for months, they’ve changed in ways that are almost unrecognizable at times. there’s not a person who understands the devastation of their experiences besides roxy and even then they had different paths while being thrown around in the multiverse.

and time moves, things are different when they come back. peter and martin have been storing what they can that’s left from liam’s apartment in their own because nobody dares to get rid of it. when liam comes back they’re living on the couch in that apartment and they have lost a space that is entirely theirs to grieve, to cry, to recover, to heal in. it’s only a couple months but a couple months when you can’t sleep and you don’t feel like you’re breathing or talking right is such a profoundly difficult situation. their chest feels like it’s going to split open at any moment and after five months everyone pitches in to get liam in what’s essentially a shoe box of an apartment. but it’s their shoebox! all to themself!

they don’t have much to start over with besides what’s been saved by the boys but it’s almost better that way. the clothes from the multiverse are tossed and long gone and good riddance because liam can’t stand the idea of ever wearing them again. those are layers of an estranged life. they can’t even keep the suit, they make a new spider-suit and while it might not look too far from it at least the fabric is new and so is the thread. that’s what matters. everything else just felt wrong and gross but to don their colorful wardrobe doesn’t feel right either, it’s mostly comfortable nostalgic clothing for a while. she wears hoodies and old shirts and it’s nothing harsh on anybodys eyes. on good days there’s a typical colorful windbreaker. on bad days there’s a blanket over her head.

being around people who know you, who recognize you is such a relief like no other. liam’s no longer staring at faces they know and pretending they’re just a passing considerate stranger. but… they don’t know liam not like this anymore. they don’t know or understand or comprehend the way in which the experience is so heavy on their soul. there’s concerned glances and stares and dropped conversations. they want to help but google doesn’t have advice for what to do when your cousin comes back from the multiverse. it’s refreshing and claustrophobic all at once

loneliness didn’t make them so independent they don’t know how to be around people. it didn’t harden them to let nobody in. it’s not your typical- they were lonely for so long and it made them closed off kind of arc. they were lonely, they were desperate and craved attention. they came out of it needing those connections. it’s all very: you might not know this exact version of me but you did know one and i need you to know this one too. i’m asking you to know this one too even if it’s hard and i’m not making it easy and none of us are meeting expectations right now.

being back with roxy again is a terrifying relief too. there’s the fear and the sleepless obsessive nights where liam needs to hear from roxy because what if one of them disappears again. and yet! they fall into a rhythm and work together like no time has passed at all when it comes to being a spider duo. they’re more confident, they’re more experienced, and they’re side by side again. the two spend so much time together when they’re back, they really are inseparable and nobody’s going to try and stop that (except a spider-man villain but). they need each other, they’re soulmates in every way and once again there’s a pair of blue and yellow strings so perfectly laced together again. who else is going to understand the feeling of chasing a face down in hopes of a friend and finding that there’s no recognition in their voice and their face and their eyes??

and ohhhh sweet sweet emmett jeffries!! the little half brother they barely know and who tries his hardest to reach out to liam because nobody’s heard from them in a while and he has memories of a sweet sibling who’d look out for him. he’s going to college soon and they’re not close but maybe they can be!! he’s the perfect little joy for liam because he doesn’t know and he just wants to get to know her and learn about her and it’s a distraction that’s pleasant and full of love. he doesn’t look at her with sad eyes and she doesn’t feel like he’s some ghost from her adventures because out there she never met another emmett! she barely knew one to even meet!

crawling out of the absolute pit of their state is such a long process and they throw themself towards so many distractions and means of coping through giving college another try and working constantly and building the web. but also there’s just a whole lot of love and determination and a really really good support structure that is in place and is found again that allows for them to grow and get better. she’s still haunted, she’ll always be haunted, but she’s full of love and hope and a whole lot of confidence in one truth: they can endure it