#Not much better but at least feels nice to have that... closure? about it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

freedomfireflies · 30 days

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Pillow Talk*

Summary: The one where you and Harry both have insomnia, and decide to spend one very strange night together.

Word Count: 7.2k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, daddy kink, mentions of drugs, angst (w/ happy ending!), not suitable for Ramadan!

“Oh, absolutely not.”

“Come on. Just one time.”

“No. Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Probably. I haven’t slept in 32 hours.”

You huff as you hide yourself behind your door. You don’t even want to see him. Because you don’t want to have this conversation or entertain this idiotic idea. This is what Harry does. He plays games. He tricks and he ruins and if you open this door, you know you’ll regret it.

“Poppy, please,” he calls, and you hear his forehead land on the wood as though to brace himself. “I’ve tried everything else, okay? It always works with you. I just…I wanted to try. See if it still does.”

You frown. “You realize how wildly inappropriate this is, right? Asking if you can come in just so we can sleep together?”

“Yeah, but that’s all I want to do. Sleep,” he insists again. “Really. I’ll keep my hands to myself and I won’t even talk to you.”

You consider this. Truthfully, you haven’t slept all that well since the breakup, either. And sure, you’ve longed for the nights when the two of you would fall into such an easy, simple, and incredibly effective routine.

But he broke your heart. And now you’re both paying the price.

“Just one night,” he pleads again. “And if it doesn’t work, I swear I won’t bother you ever again.”

There’s a subtle ache in your chest. Just hearing his voice reminds you of the pain. Of the joy. Of every good moment and every bad one, all wrapped up in the same silky cadence.

You take a deep breath. Perhaps you’re curious, too. Even if you don’t want to be. Because maybe this will work. Maybe you’ll finally be able to rest and get on with your life.

Or maybe it won’t.

But at least if it doesn’t, maybe you can find some closure.

So, with that thought…you open the door.

He looks worse than you’ve ever seen him. Which makes you just a touch happy if you’re being honest with yourself. His usual curls are askew and unkept. The bags under his eyes are dark and his clothes are wildly wrinkled.

And you’re surprised. He’s been up for longer than 32 hours before and handled it much better. You wonder if his age is catching up with him or if there’s something else keeping him awake.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

But you don’t fight with him. He’s not here to fight and you accept his terms as you widen the door and allow him to step inside.

He nods gratefully as he slips into your living room, but his eyes linger on your face. Almost like he doesn’t recognize you, and it makes your insides turn as you shut the door and put a few feet between you.

“What?” you huff.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, you look…different.”

“Okay…?”

“You changed your hair.”

“Yeah.”

“Hm. It’s nice.”

You cross your arms. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Another pause, and the silence feels heavy.

“Well…do you wanna…?” you eventually say, and he nods.

“Right, yeah.”

“Okay.”

You turn to lead him to your room and it’s…unsettling how normal it feels. Like an old habit rearing its ugly head once again.

When you get there, his surprise returns. “You changed your room, too.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Why?”

Your eyes roll as you angrily toss your blankets back. “This is the one room I associated with you the most. And short of moving, I needed something you hadn’t touched or tainted. So I made the room mine again.”

He thinks about this, attention lingering on the new paint on the walls and the new furniture in each corner. “I like it.”

“I don’t care.”

He smiles. “I know.”

“Great. Can you get in the bed please so we can get this over with?”

Obliging, he slips off his shoes and joins you under the duvet. “Never thought I’d hear you say that again.”

“Never thought I’d have to say it.”

“Mm. You changed your mattress.”

“Obviously.”

“And the sheets and blankets, too.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is there anything in here you didn’t change?”

“The carpet. But only because my landlord said I couldn’t.”

“Right.” He’s smiling again. “But you did get a rug.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice.”

“Bite me.”

He laughs now and you want to smack him. “I see you still get grumpy when you’re tired.”

“No, I get grumpy when my asshole of an ex shows up to my apartment at 3 in the morning demanding to be let in so he can sleep in my bed with me like a fucking child,” you argue. And you know you’re being snippy and maybe even rude, but he deserves it. After everything he’s put you through, you deserve to be in charge of your own emotions.

You turn the lamp off and the dark room grows incredibly quiet. You’re both stiff, unable to relax when you’re this close. You don’t want to touch—not the way you used to. And you don’t want to be close or let your guard down, although you suppose you’ll have to in order to sleep.

And then he says, “I really did try, you know. To find another way to sleep.”

You look up at the ceiling and release a soft exhale. “Okay.”

“Melatonin, light therapy, cut out coffee. Even drank those…sleep mocktail things everyone talks about.” He shifts. “I don’t know, I guess my brain just wouldn’t turn off.”

“Yeah. I know.”

More quiet.

“I haven’t done any since we broke up,” he finally says. Gentle, like he’s afraid to break the silence.

Your lashes flutter. He doesn’t have to say it for you to know what he means. “Great.”

“Yeah.” Another beat. “I thought it was work, I guess. Maybe the stress or something. I’ve been sleeping fine, but these past couple weeks…”

“Right.”

“And I just figured—”

“No, I got it. It’s fine, let’s just…let’s just try to sleep,” you say and he nods.

The bedroom settles and you try, you really do. But you can’t when he’s breathing so goddamn loud and shifting every two seconds and sighing like he’s in pain.

“What?” you eventually hiss.

“Are you dating someone?” he asks.

“What?”

“Are you dating someone?” he repeats. “Josie said you were.”

You hesitate. “I don’t know. Kind of. I guess.”

“You guess?”

“We’re…we’ve been on a few dates. It’s not official.”

“He hasn’t asked you to be his girlfriend?”

“Why does it matter?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t. I just figure you deserve someone that actually wants to date you.”

“Oh, do I?” You roll your head to look at him. “Funny, you didn’t seem to think so when you were dating me.”

“All right, touché,” he mumbles. “I could have been better, I know that. And I know I took advantage. You did a lot for me and I didn’t…I didn’t care.”

Surprised, you twist your fingers together. “Uh…yeah. Right. Thank you.”

His head rolls, too. And even with the dim-light, his eyes find yours. “I’m sorry, Poppy. You really did deserve better than me. And if you found it with this guy…I’ll be happy for you.”

You swallow before sighing to yourself. “I mean, I don’t know if I did. He’s…he’s really nice. But he’s so…he’s just…”

“Vanilla?”

Your eyes widen. “Yeah. How did you—”

“He was wearing Crocs with tube socks.”

You laugh—loud. “Oh my god, how did you know?”

“I might have looked him up,” he admits through a grin. “Wanted to make sure he was worth your time.”

“Yeah? And?”

“And he wears Crocs with tube socks. He can’t make you cum.”

Your features scrunch together as you gasp and look away. “Ew, Harry. It’s not about that—”

“It’s always about that. Come on, am I wrong?”

“You—yes. What he wears has nothing to do with what he’s like in bed—”

“So he’s not vanilla?”

“He’s…” You pause. “He…look, he really tries—”

“So, he is,” Harry finishes for you. “Well, at least you got some.”

“I…yeah. Uh-huh.”

Instantly, he turns onto his side, head resting in the palm of his hand as he studies you. “He couldn’t get it up, could he?”

“Harry,” you groan, and reach out to swat him. “Stop, it wasn’t that. We just…we were taking things slow. We did some stuff. Just not…all of it.”

“So what he’d do?”

“Harry—”

“Come on, we’re adults, just tell me.”

“Ew, no—”

“Listen, you used to get fucked good. I’m just trying to help you get back to that.”

You frown but do oblige. “I don’t know. He ate me out and I blew him. That’s it.”

“And…?”

“And…I don’t know. He was fine. He was good.”

“Sure.”

Your eyes roll. “Okay, he…he wasn’t really all that into it. He stopped after a few seconds and asked if I came. Then he said his jaw was tired and that maybe we should just switch.”

Now, Harry’s features scrunch, too. “Shit. What a fucking pussy. Ironically.”

“I guess. It could have been worse.”

“Really? Eating you out was always my favorite. What kind of asshole just stops if he doesn’t have to?”

You feel a rush of heat through your body as you look away. “I guess they can’t all be you.”

“Damn fucking right,” he scoffs. “Seriously, you still wanted to see him after that?”

“He’s cute,” you argue. “And nice. And yeah, maybe he’s not that adventurous but that’s okay. I don’t need wild sex all the time.”

He’s quiet. “How about just one time?”

You turn back. “What?”

“I—okay, I was just thinking…you know, one of the things we would do when we couldn’t sleep was…fuck, so—”

“Oh, absolutely not.” You sit up, as though to put some distance between you. “No. Forget it—”

“Poppy—”

“Don’t call me that,” you huff. “You don’t get to call me that ever again. Okay, I’m not gonna fuck you just so we can sleep—”

“It wouldn’t be just for that,” he argues, sitting up as well. “It would also help your mood, too—”

“Oh, my mood?” You glare at him. “My mood is just fine, actually. In fact, I’d say it’s pretty good if I agreed to let you in my apartment in the first place—”

“You didn’t have to. I’m just saying, if sex with him is gonna be bland, might as well get in one last good fuck before you commit to a lifetime of boring—”

“Oh, my god. It’s not a lifetime and you’re a fucking asshole—”

“Yeah. We’ve established that. Doesn’t change the fact that you need it.”

You stare at him. “Is that why you’re really here? To trick me into sleeping with you?”

He leans back. “What? No. I don’t trick people into having sex, it was just a suggestion—”

“Yeah, a pretty dumb one. Did you honestly think I’d say yes?”

“Yeah,” he admits haughtily. “Yeah, because we didn’t break up over the sex. We broke up because you’re an uptight—”

“What? Say it,” you sneer. “Say it. I’m an uptight bitch because I wouldn’t let you do cocaine.”

He scoffs again and looks off into the dark of your room. The argument lulls. “I could never do anything right.”

“That wasn’t the problem and you know it.” You pull your legs to your chest. “I wanted to move forward and you kept going back. You’re almost 30 and you still act like you’re 19.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to get married and do the whole white picket fence life,” he says. “Maybe I liked things the way they were—”

“No. No, you liked parties with your friends and doing drugs that kept you up for hours and getting fired and leaving me to pay all the bills—”

“You didn’t pay all the bills and I told you I would do what I could to help—”

“Yeah. But apparently that included getting fucked up and staying out all night just to crash the next day.” You study him closely. “You were never around anymore. I never saw you. We were on two different paths and the only time we ever talked was when you asked if I wanted to fuck.”

“So, that’s it, huh? I’m just a villain in your story. You were this perfect fucking princess, and I was a monster that ruined your life?”

“No, obviously not. I wasn’t perfect. I know that.”

“Do you?” His eyes flick between yours. “You didn’t want me to move forward with you. You liked your new job and your new friends because they didn’t remind you of me. Of who we both used to be.”

“So? I’m not proud of what I used to do. And sure, maybe I wanted to make a better impression on the people paying my salary and keeping me employed. Is that such a fucking crime?”

“No. But you didn’t want me to be a part of that impression and you know it.”

“Right. Because you were shit-faced all the time.”

He opens his mouth, ready to retort. But then he closes it. He closes it and he stares at you and then…he surges forward.

Even if you were given at least two seconds to prepare, you’re not prepared for the way his hands feel on your cheeks as he kisses you. As he presses his lips to yours and steals the labored breaths in your lungs.

But you don’t fight him. You know you should. Know you should push him off and berate him. Yet you let him kiss you. And you kiss him back. And it’s far too easy to slip back into this routine as his tongue slides against yours in such a teasing way.

Your stomach flips while your hands land on his lap. You’re desperate to be closer, to feel his body against yours. His skin, and the way it melts beneath your palms like butter. You dance this devious dance and before you know it, you’re stripping each other of the few clothes you have.

He starts with your shirt. Ripping it over your head before his mouth lands on your chest. Bare and beautiful to him. His kisses are wet and sloppy and you arch yourself closer as you drag your fingers down his scalp.

The only reason he stops is to let you peel his t-shirt off, too. And then his jeans and socks. And you move so fluidly, you’re nearly naked in under a minute. The only thing left between you now his underwear and yours.

He lays you down, gentle. Surprisingly gentle, given the anger that brought you here. And he gazes at you in a soft, unspoken way that says everything you don’t exactly know how to say.

His fingers brush down your cheek as his body settles atop yours. He still fits between your legs like he was always meant to and the weight of him almost feels good.

“Are you all right?” he finally whispers, and he doesn’t sound like the same man from before. He sounds like the man you fell in love with. “Is this okay?”

You nod quickly, scared that if you think about it, you’ll ruin it. “Yeah. Go.”

He doesn’t. “We don’t have to,” he says. “You were right, it’s probably a dumb idea—”

“Yeah, but…it always works.” You shift beneath him and reach for his briefs, rolling them down his hips. “And I’m tired. Tired of fighting with you, tired of not getting any sleep…tired of pretending I hate you. You were right, our sex is good. So let’s do it. And then we can sleep. And we can finally move on.”

Not the most romantic of speeches, but it works. At least right now. He kisses you again and drags your underwear aside in order to tease you with the tip of his cock.

He feels like you remember. And maybe you find just a touch of comfort in that. There are no awkward pauses or confusion about what to do next. You don’t have to find your rhythm or anticipate the next step. You know him. And he knows you.

Your rub your clit in order to stimulate yourself. You aren’t exactly wet enough for this to be enjoyable, but you don’t expect him to do what he did before. The foreplay is up to you now and you’re more than all right with that.

However, he’s not. And he instantly swats your hand away in order to do it himself. Allowing his fingers to drag up and down your pussy until you shiver before he slips the tip of his middle finger inside.

“Shit,” he whispers. His forehead drops to yours. “Fucking missed this.”

You bite the inside of your lip to keep from grinning. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He starts to pump, bending your body to his salacious intentions until the unmistakable sound of wetness echoes throughout the room. “I know you missed it, too.”

“Hm. Don’t push it.”

“Why not?” He presses a kiss to your cheek. Then to your jaw. Your lips. Your nose. Your neck. Everywhere you used to love. “Are you really gonna tell me you didn’t?”

“Maybe.”

“So Crocs with Tube Socks is better, huh?”

“…not exactly.”

“Right.” He adds a second finger and your eyes roll back. “Don’t worry, Poppy, I’ll fix it.”

“Don’t…call me that,” you pant again, and he chuckles.

“Don’t know what else to call you. You were always my pretty Poppy.”

“But now I’m not,” you say. “Now you call me nothing. Because I’m not yours to call.”

He sighs but does seem to obey, at least for now. And the faster he thrusts his hand, the needier this growing feeling becomes. Stronger and louder until you finally grab onto his shoulders and say, “Just put it in already.”

He smirks. “How romantic.”

“It’s not supposed to be. Just come on.”

So, he does. He takes hold of his cock and he slips it through the gathering arousal until he can push in. And you both reel.

Truthfully, you’ve missed the sounds he makes when he’s turned on. The way he groans and grits his teeth together. The way the muscles in his arms strain until you can see those beautiful veins you used to love to run your tongue over.

He’s stunning. Even now, in the soft light of the moon through your curtains. His silhouette is unholy as it hovers above you. Strong hips beginning to thrust as you both work in tandem to find release.

And it’s closer than you expected. There’s something about him that can get you there even without much effort. Something Crocs with Tube Socks could never seem to figure out.

Because he’s not Harry. And only Harry can play you like an instrument and make such symphonic music all with the flick of his finger and a thrust of his cock.

He kisses you again and you both feel anxious. Soft murmurings of praise and, “Keep going,” that have you arching from the bed and moaning into his mouth.

You’re sweating and gasping for air and clutching onto his back as you attempt to meet his rhythm with rolls of your own. You need this. You need to cum so you can find release and you need to cum so you can finally sleep and you need to cum because then you’ll finally be able to let him go. To close the door on the chapter of you and Harry and move the fuck on.

But how can you move on when you’re still under him? How can you insist that you’re fine and doing great if you’re so easily convinced to fuck him just so you can both get some sleep?

There are other remedies to insomnia that don’t involve his cock and maybe you should have tried that before you let him into your apartment.

Either way, you’re coming before you can think twice about it. Raking your nails down his back and whimpering his name as he pulls out and finishes on your thigh.

And just like that…

It’s over.

You find him in the kitchen about an hour later. You managed to sleep at least a few minutes before you felt the sadistic hand of insomnia pull you back out. But when you woke, Harry was gone. His clothes were still on the floor, so you knew he hadn’t left. But he wasn’t with you.

He’s staring out your kitchen window when you slip into the living room. You’re not sure if he hears you or not but if he does, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he keeps himself braced against the sink, clad in nothing more than his briefs.

Curious, you call, “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. Silent. Contemplative. “I used to love this window,” he eventually says. Soft, like he’s reminiscing. “The way the light looked in the morning. The way your little crystals would put rainbows on the wall and you’d get so excited. How you’d make me dance with you to some Elton John song while we were literally in the middle of cooking.”

You blink. “Um…okay.”

He turns and his eyes find yours. “I fucking loved this apartment. And this kitchen. And that couch. And your room. And even the hallway. I loved being here, all the time. I hated going back to my place because it never felt the same.”

The silence grows louder now as you look down at your feet and pull your robe just a bit tighter. “I know,” you finally whisper. “That’s why I changed it.”

“I know,” he whispers back. His expression falls. “You changed everything. This apartment, your life…us.”

“Because I had to,” you argue, glancing back up. “I had to, Harry. I couldn’t keep going in circles. I couldn’t drag you along behind me into the future when you clearly wanted to be anywhere else.”

“Because the future you always painted didn’t seem to have room for me,” he huffs. “Okay, with all these dinner parties and fancy houses and good school districts. You’d planned out the next 30 years and I didn’t see myself anywhere in your picture.”

“I didn’t fucking care about the parties or the school districts,” you nearly yell. “God, I—I didn’t want the white picket fence life. I didn’t want the 1950’s American Dream shit you keep thinking I did. I just wanted you. Yes, I wanted a good job with insurance and stability. But I wasn’t gonna trade what we had just for that—”

“But you did. You didn’t tell your parents we’d moved in together. You didn’t even tell half of our friends. You went on trips without me and you stopped telling me about your day and we never talked—”

“Because you were never around! You were either out with your friends getting drunk or high or you were in there playing video games because you’d had a ‘hard day.’ So, no. I didn’t want to talk to you when I knew you weren’t even listening in the first place.”

He leans against the counter and crosses his arms. Angry. Indignant. “You resented me. You resented the fact that we were together and you resented that I wasn’t perfect like your precious new friends—”

“Oh, that’s—” You pinch the bridge of your nose and force in a deep breath. “No. I didn’t want you to be like them. I didn’t want you to act pretentious and stuffy and talk about the stock market every goddamn second of the day. The only thing I resented…was the fact that you wouldn’t take care of yourself.”

“I was taking care of myself—”

“Bullshit. You were doing drugs—you were doing cocaine—and you weren’t eating, you weren’t sleeping, you nearly drunk yourself to death—”

“Right, but I wasn’t doing it all the time. It was just…it was occasionally, and it wasn’t a lot—”

“I don’t care. You shouldn’t have been doing it at all, Harry,” you finally shout. “You…you scared the shit out of me. Every time one of your friends would call and say you were passed out, I thought…I thought this was it. I thought I was gonna lose you. Do you know how many times I just sat on the floor and cried because I was so scared? Because you never wanted to listen when I told you to stop? Because you were so sure you were invincible?”

He seems pained by this, features wilting as he takes a tentative step forward. But he stops when you move back. “Poppy, I wasn’t trying to scare you, I…I didn’t know—”

“Yes, you did,” you scoff. “I told you, over and over that I didn’t want to lose you, but you thought I was being dramatic.”

He nods once. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“Yeah. I am.” He looks at you. “S’why I stopped after we broke up. You were right, I needed to get my shit together.”

You nod, too. “Good. I’m glad.”

His gaze dances around the kitchen. “I hate that you changed everything,” he says again, and your heart wrenches. “I hate that it doesn’t look like it used to. I hate that I hurt you so bad that you felt like you had to erase everything I ever touched.”

You step closer and wipe a tear from your cheek. “Yeah, I hate it, too. I hate that I had to. I hate that stupid mattress and I hate that my kitchen doesn’t look like a rainbow anymore and I really fucking hate that I have no one to dance with when I cook.”

His eyes soften as they find yours and in only a few seconds, he’s reaching for the belt on your robe and tugging you to him. Wrapping you in his arms as he presses you against his chest, the way he always used to when you were sad.

“No,” you argue weakly, although you do nothing to stop him. “No, you can’t…you can’t—”

“Yes, I can,” he retorts quietly. You feel his lips press to the top of your head. “You don’t get to cry over me anymore. You’re better than that now. You did what I couldn’t. You moved on. And I don’t get to ruin that for you.”

You sniffle as you run your hand down his stomach. “It wasn’t about moving on. I just needed to learn how to be strong enough for both of us.”

“Poppy,” he breathes and holds you tighter. “You shouldn’t have to be.”

And deep down…you know he’s right.

“Shit, just like that…a little closer. Good girl, hold yourself open for me, baby. Yeah.”

Doing your best to oblige, you slip your fingers between your folds as Harry nudges his nose closer. Kissing his way along your thighs before allowing his tongue to lick a very generous stripe up your pussy.

Round 2 is on the couch. Harry wanted the kitchen counter—nearly insisted on it, in fact—but you knew you didn’t want to ruin your favorite breakfast spot. And you weren’t about to just for him.

So, the couch it was. He complained about it as you got settled. He hates this new couch, too. The color, the lumpy cushions, the way it feels like you’re sinking when you sit.

You told him you didn’t care. You loved it and if it annoyed him, that was a bonus.

Thankfully, he swallowed his complaints in favor of swallowing you. He tossed your robe open and pulled your thighs apart. And then he buried himself between the warmth of your pussy the way he always used to.

And you decided that maybe you don’t mind insomnia so much if this is the remedy.

“Missed this, too,” he says now as he nips at your clit. “God, you’ve always tasted so fucking good. S’fucking crazy, baby. Can’t ever get enough.”

“Sure,” you snort, head dropping back. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls—”

“No.” He shakes his head and his nose nudges the sensitive nerves as you whine. “No, there’s no other girls. Come on, did you really think there could be?”

“With a mouth like that? Yeah,” you admit. He laughs. “That’s how we met. You were such—fuck—such a player.”

“Maybe,” he concedes before mouthing at you again. “But nobody else has ever made me feel the way you do.”

You snort. “Where’d you learn that line?”

“It’s not a line. It’s the truth.”

“Harry. Come on. I know you.”

“Then you should know I don’t say shit I don’t mean.” He smooths his palms down your thighs in order to spread you just a bit further and see the way your hole flutters. “Oh, pretty girl. S’just drenched, hm? All sensitive from the last one…need Daddy to make it better?”

You scrunch your nose. “You don’t get to call yourself that anymore.”

“No?” He grins. “Why not?”

“Because I hate you and Daddy is reserved for someone I like.”

He tsks. “I don’t know, kind of seems like you still like it. Keep clenching around my tongue like you wanna hear me say it again.”

You hesitate as you weave your fingers through his curls. “Never.”

He hums and the vibration against your cunt makes your thighs twitch. “Come on, baby. Don’t be mean to Daddy.”

You want to glare. Slap at him, refuse him. But he’s right—you have missed the moniker. If only just because of how good he sounds when he says it. So, you let him tease you and taunt you as he tastes you. You let him do whatever the hell he wants because your second orgasm feels stronger than the first and you don’t imagine you’ll survive this one.

He slips a finger in as well. Beckons your pleasure closer with every curl of the large digit. It’s practiced. He sucks and licks and nips and thrusts and curls and pumps all at the same time.

Then, he pulls back and brings his palm down in a sharp smack to your pussy.

“Stop squirming,” he instructs, then shoots you an obviously pleased frown. “Don’t be a brat.”

“M’not,” you whimper. “Not a brat…just wanna cum.”

“Do you, hm?” He licks you again then adds two fingers. “Should I let you?”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously?” He’s smirking now as he starts to go faster. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you do deserve it. Yeah? After being so nice as to let me in.”

You pout. “Mhm.”

He’s so happy. He’s always his happiest when he’s suffocating himself with your pussy. He does everything he knows you love. He leaves teasing kisses to the inside of your thighs. He slaps at your leg, your clit, your hip. He helps rock you against his tongue and even lifts you from the couch to find a deeper angle.

And he does all of this out of sheer enjoyment.

“Harry,” you whimper as you melt into the cushions. Your limbs feel like jello. The pleasure is everywhere, and he looks like a god. His face is covered in you, glistening about as bright as the stars.

“I know, Poppy,” he says. He kisses your pussy and then smiles at you. “I know.”

You like the way Harry’s chest feels. Warm and soft and painted in the tattoos you used to trace with your finger.

He’s gently scratching your back as you both lay in bed. The room is quiet—you haven’t spoken in minutes. Still, neither of you can seem to find sleep and you know you’ll desperately need it soon.

But this is nice. Even if it is the last time. You like getting to reminisce—pretend for even a moment that things are the way they used to be. When you were happy and safe and content to be together.

You weren’t sure you’d ever feel this kind of peace again.

“I missed you, too, you know,” he whispers after a moment.

You glance up.

“I didn’t just miss your apartment. I missed you.” He takes a breath and runs his palm along your spine. “I miss our Sunday mornings and I miss when we’d watch scary movies just so we could make out and I miss the way you used to dance around in your underwear to some stupid musical you were obsessed with.”

You swallow a lump in your throat. “Har…”

“And I don’t know what happened,” he says. “I felt like…I felt like I was watching you do all these amazing things and I just couldn’t keep up. You were getting promoted and moving up and I was still at the fucking bar serving drinks. And you knew what you wanted to do. I didn’t.”

“I didn’t know,” you argue gently. “Not really. I hate my job. I hate that I don’t enjoy it the way I used to. I mean, I like that it pays the bills, but maybe that shouldn’t be enough.”

He presses his cheek to the top of your head. “You should do what makes you happy.”

“You used to make me happy.”

The soft strokes against your spine slow.

“You did, Har,” you tell him. “So happy. That’s why I hated that we started fighting all of the time. I hated that you were gone or that I was gone or the fact that I was too ashamed to tell you that I missed you. And that I was scared we were losing each other.”

“Maybe we needed to lose each other,” he says and you feel sick. “Maybe we needed to be apart to see what we really wanted.”

You think about this. The idea sounds nice. Inviting. A happy end to a rather dreadful story.

But you both know better. Five months has taught you better.

“There’s a reason we broke up,” you finally murmur. “We didn’t…we didn’t like each other anymore. We were holding each other back—”

“I liked you,” he says softly. “I loved you. Yeah, I was mad, but I didn’t just stop loving you.”

“Maybe you should have. Maybe it would have been easier for us and we wouldn’t be…here.”

More silence. It stretches for what feels like hours.

And then, “I can’t sleep because of you.”

You suck in a quiet breath. “What?”

“When Josie told me that you were seeing someone, I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And she showed me a picture she took of you guys and you were so happy. Smiling at him like you used to smile at me and I just…I didn’t know what to do.”

Another pause. You don’t know what to say.

“I put my fist through a wall,” he tells you. “And somehow, that still didn’t hurt as much as knowing you’d moved on.”

You snake your arm around his middle and snuggle closer. “Harry, you knew we both had to move on eventually.”

“Did we?”

“Harry…”

“But so soon? It’s only been five months.”

“Yeah. Five months to grieve you and cry over you and realize I did this for you.” You close your eyes. Tight. “We’re better people now.”

“No, we’re tired people now,” he teases, and you smile. “And I think I’ll be losing sleep over you for the rest of my life.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I mean it. I’m always gonna think about you. Think about what I did wrong. What I could have done better.”

“I fucked up, too,” you argue. “I should have told my parents. And our friends. I should have talked to you more, asked you to do more things together. You’re right, I was ashamed of you. Of this…routine we’d fallen into. And I’m sorry.”

He says nothing. After all, there’s nothing more to say.

But he kisses the crown of your head and it speaks louder than any words.

“Fuck…fuck, Poppy, please—”

You grin as you lick your lips. He’s always sounded the most beautiful when he’s begging. And his best begging always tends to happen when his cock is down your throat.

“What, Daddy?” you ask innocently. “What do you need me to do?”

His eyes roll back and he grips the sheets in his fist. “Please…”

You reposition yourself over his legs as you dip back down to have another taste. You lick and you suck and you stroke until he’s making another strained noise that sounds like sex.

You hope your neighbors can hear. You bet they missed him.

“Good boy,” you purr, squeezing his thighs as you take him even further.

He sucks in a sharp breath through gritted teeth before his hand finds your hair and he squeezes. “Easy…easy, baby. S’been a while. Don’t hurt yourself—”

You respond to his instruction by inhaling through your nose and relaxing the muscles in your throat. Allowing him to hit the back the way he always used to.

His head drops into the pillows. “Shit—Poppy, I mean it. M’not gonna fuck your throat. It’s gonna hurt and I don’t wanna hurt you anymore.”

It’s an oddly thoughtful gesture but it does nothing for you now. Instead, you shake your head and pull off, a string of saliva dripping down his cock in your wake. “I’m fine, H. Trust me, I can take it.”

“Yeah?” He pushes up onto his elbows. “Is Crocs with Tube Socks hung or something?”

You grin. “No. But that dildo you got me last year is.”

He blinks. “You…fucking hell, you fuck your throat with that?”

“Mhm.” You swirl your tongue around his tip as he curses. “And then I fuck myself. And I pretend it’s you.”

He tightens his hold on your hair and forces your eyes back to his. “Are you serious?”

You nod, now feeling a touch shy as you wipe your mouth with your knuckles. “Yeah…I know that’s…probably weird, but…I mean, you got it for me, so I thought I’d be weirder to think about someone else—”

“No, it’s…” He stops. Struggles. “Shit, I really needed to hear that.”

“Oh, you did, huh?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t want you to think about anyone else when you used it, either. It’s got my fucking initials on it.”

You laugh, louder than you mean to and it makes him grin. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it? It was a pretty good gift, I’ll admit.”

“S’a fucking perfect gift,” he retorts. “We had a lot of fun with that dildo.”

“We did indeed.”

“But apparently not as much fun as you’re having with it.”

“Fucking myself helps me sleep,” you remind him. “So sometimes it’s necessity.”

“Is that right?”

“Mhm.” You squeeze the base and he twitches. “You used to watch me. Remember?”

“I do.” His eyes get darker. “Do you fuck yourself a lot?”

“…these days, yeah. Apparently, I can’t sleep all that well, either.”

“And does it work?”

“Most of the time, yeah.” You turn your attention back to his cock in order to avoid his curiosity before you quietly admit, “Sometimes I pretend you’re here. Sleeping next to me. And…that helps, too.”

He reaches for your wrist and pulls your attention back. “Poppy—”

“No, don’t look at me like that, it’s dumb—”

“I imagine you, too.”

You blink. “You do?”

“Every night. Except the past couple weeks. Cause now I just think about you and him. And then I can’t fucking sleep.”

You turn your hand so your fingers brush through his. “Shit. We’re a mess.”

He smiles. “Yeah.”

The conversation falls away as you dip back down to resume your work. Squeezing his balls, moaning as you take him on your tongue, and milking him for every last drop.

Turns out, you missed the taste of him, too.

Morning comes before either of you find a moment of rest. But you can feel yourself growing tired. Your eyelids are beginning to droop, and your body feels incredibly spent.

Turns out, round 4 is where the magic happened. He brought out your favorite vibrator and teased your poor, swollen clit with it until you squirted. It was easy and quick and he seemed rather delighted to be bathed in you.

Until, of course, you insist on an actual bath to clean you both.

The shower felt good. The warm water washing away the sticky sweat on your skin. And the two of you fell back into a similar routine. He ran the soap down your arms and you washed his curls with your favorite shampoo. A shampoo he claimed he looked everywhere for after you broke up but could never find.

He said he missed the smell. The way it made his hair so soft. And the way it would make his pillowcase smell just like you.

You were grateful that the shower hid your tears.

You both crashed on the couch after you had dried off. The sheets still needed to be cleaned and neither of you could be bothered. But, as it turned out, the couch was growing on him. And he begrudgingly admitted it was rather comfy as the two of you curled up in your usual spot.

You know you’re both close to sleep. Finally, after all your efforts to get here. But you also know that once you wake up, Harry will leave.

And there’s a chance you won’t see him again.

You know that nothing has changed. The two of you still want different things, even if you want each other. And you hate that that’s not enough. That what you want and what you should want don’t align.

Instead, he’ll move on with his life and you’ll move on with yours.

But you don’t want to learn how to fall asleep without him.

“Make me a deal,” you whisper.

He hums. Lashes shut tight as the morning light slips in through the window. “What?”

“If I wake up, and you’re still here…we do this again. Not…as a couple. But as two broken humans that find rest with each other.”

His eyes open.

“But if you’re gone,” you continue, “then we don’t. We don’t do it again, we don’t see each other again, we don’t reach out again. We cut ties. Officially. Block and move on. For real.”

He seems saddened by this, and you hate that you’ve made him sad. But you both know it’s for the best. This won’t be sustainable in the long run. And maybe it’s a bad idea to continue at all, but maybe you want to hold on to him anyway. At least for a little while.

Even if it’s just as friends.

Exes.

Two broken humans that used to make each other whole.

His lips press together and he nods once. “Deal,” he agrees, and you can tell by the look on his face, he’s already made a decision.

You aren’t sure which way, but you suppose you’ll find out soon enough. So, you allow your eyes to fall shut and your dreams to take hold. Melting into his arms and into the sofa as you finally find sleep quicker than you have in months.

You’re not sure how long you’re out. It feels like hours. A heavy slumber that leaves you rather refreshed as your eyes eventually flutter open.

You don’t see Harry as you slowly adjust to your surroundings. And you don’t feel him, either. But you’re too afraid to really look. To sit up and realize that he’s gone. For good.

And then, just when you think you’ve lost him…you hear the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Good morning, Poppy.”

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @laelamarley @myalovesharry

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dycefic · 2 years

Text

The Strange Case Of The Amateur Detective

At some point, surely someone must notice the pattern... right? Note: Beginning slightly edited for clarity.

It took a while, but I’ve convinced Maggie to tell me when she goes out of town. I’ll feel better, I say, if I know for sure where she is when a body makes the news.

Which is true, of course. The sheer frequency with which that little lunatic does it keeps me awake at nights. But it also enables me to take certain precautions.

Like this one.

“Hello, Branford County Police Station, Constable Ford speaking.”

“Hello, Constable Ford, this is Detective Inspector Winsbury. I’m going to need to speak to whoever is in charge there about a possible murder.”

As usual, there was some back and forth at that point, but eventually I got through to an Inspector. “What do you mean, a possible murder?!” he asked, irritated.

“Just what I said. Tell me, Inspector, have you ever had dealings with an amateur detective? The real thing, I mean. The genuine Carrion Crow.”

His tone went from hostile to guarded. “I’ve… heard some things. Never met one.”

“You’re about to. Mine’s visiting Branford, ostensibly to see an old school friend, and I wouldn’t bet you the price of a beer that she’s not going to show up to report a murder within a few days.”

“You can’t possibly - “

“Her count’s at fourteen, to my certain knowledge.”

“And you’re sure she’s not just a very clever serial killer?”

They usually ask that. It’s understandable, if a bit annoying. “Not only have I been physically with her at the time three of the murders were committed, two were committed before she was born. That’d be pretty damned clever, don’t you think?”

“Oh, hell.”

“Yes. If you’ve got any old missing persons cases, or unsolved murders, get the files out and refresh your memory. I’d go back at least fifty years, if I were you. Focus on anything mysterious or that got covered up.”

“She’s likely to find a fifty-year-old corpse?!”

“I was standing right there when she found a hundred-and-nine year old set of remains in the walls of an old church she was helping to renovate, less than five minutes into the renovations.”

He let out a heartfelt groan. “Oh no.”

“It’s not so bad,” I said encouragingly. “Maggie’s better than a cadaver dog for finding remains, although even she doesn’t know how she does it, and even better at putting together evidence. She’s got a knack for seeing patterns where nobody else does. Whatever case she turns up, she’ll help you solve it within… oh, probably a few days, a week at most.”

“Really?” The Inspector sounded like he was wavering between skepticism and hope. “I’ve heard stories about Carrion Crows and their closure rate, but I can’t say I ever believed them.”

“Believe them. The longest it’s ever taken her was a month, and that was because she spent two weeks in hospital in the middle of it, and there was a delay on some of the evidence.” I leaned back in my chair, putting my feet up on my desk. “She’s pretty cooperative, as a rule. Not one of those ones who wants to beat the police - she’ll work with you if you let her. If you don’t, she’ll solve it anyway and make you look like a real chump, so let her. Stay on her, though, because she’s got a bit of an impulse control problem when she’s on a scent.”

“She’s likely to run into danger?”

“Mmm, no, not often - she’s just turned fifty, she’s slowing down a bit - but keeping her from touching the evidence can be a problem. She knows not to, but sometimes in the heat of the moment she forgets.”

“Ah. Yes, I see.”

“If you’ve got any strapping young lads or lasses who show some promise, assign one to her. She’s usually pretty nice to anyone under thirty if they make a mistake, but she gets snippy at someone she thinks is old enough to know better. They’ll learn a lot.”

“And she won’t ditch them?”

“Almost never if they’re polite, especially if you ask her to keep an eye on them. Just make sure they don’t argue with her too much, or scoff at her deductions, or she will absolutely ditch them and they will never know how she did it. Even I don’t know, and we’ve been working together for years.”

“I see.” He sighed, and the faint rasping was probably a hand rubbing over his chin. “A real Carrion Crow. Does she know… why?”

“What made her Death’s favourite girl? No. They usually don’t. I know there’s always stories about the murder of a loved one setting them on the path, but that’s actually pretty rare.” I’d done a lot of research, after I realized what Maggie was. “Most Carrion Crows have no idea why they start finding bodies. There’s no consistent trigger for it.”

“No kind of pattern at all?”

“Well, no, I didn’t say that. There’s no consistency about trigger events, but Carrion Crows themselves do tend to conform to a certain type. They’re usually very detail-oriented, and good at analyzing patterns. They’re always curious. If presented with half a story, they can’t resist finding the other half. They’re usually self-employed, or retired on a moderate income, or in a job that allows them a lot of snooping time, like a reporter or researcher.”

“That makes sense,” he said slowly. “The… gift, or whatever it is, comes to people who have the time and ability to use it.”

“Almost invariably.” I examined the scuffed toe of one of my boots. “And they care about people. They’re compassionate. I’ve never encountered or heard of a real Carrion Crow who was selfish.”

“Carrion Crows are always good people?” Now he just sounded confused.

“That depends on your definition of good. Criminals have been Crows in the past. One of the earliest confirmed cases of a Carrion Crow was a young pickpocket in London in the 1820s. But they’re people who care about other people. It’s one of the reasons they find out so much more than we do - people under pressure respond to kindness and compassion. It makes them want to confide.”

“Ahhhh.” He sounded enlightened. “That I understand. I have a sergeant like that. Got a face like a gargoyle, but everyone loves him because he’s just… kind, to everyone. People tell him all sorts of things.”

“Maybe don’t pair him up with Maggie, or they might achieve some sort of critical mass. A tea-party could spontaneously form around them.” I laughed at that mental image. “Anyway, if a tiny little middle-aged lady with big brown eyes and a horrible cardigan shows up and tells you there’s been a murder, take her seriously.”

“Will do. Thanks for the warning.”

I left my name and number, in case they needed more help, then hung up.

Nobody knows what causes a person to become a Carrion Crow. They’re not common, and you can spend a whole career in law enforcement without meeting one. But sometimes, for reasons nobody’s ever been able to explain, a hitherto perfectly ordinary person turns into a magnet for murder. It’s as if Death itself just taps them on the shoulder and says ‘you’. As if Death itself wants murders to be solved, the lost dead found, the unknown dead named, and their killers brought to justice.

Who knows? Maybe it does. All I know is, they need a close eye kept on them. A lot of Crows wind up murdered themselves, by someone desperate not to be caught. That’s why I call ahead every time Maggie leaves town. Why I’ll even follow her, if I can’t get the local police to listen to me.

Maggie cares about people, living and dead. And I care about Maggie. Anyone trying to kill her is going to have to get past me.

#original fiction #short story #surely in a universe in which this can happen #it doesn't only happen once #and sooner or later #people will notice

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lamentus1 · 3 months

Text

Where Ed starts to learn that his actions were forgivable and that he is lovable.

Ed believes that he is unlovable and yet the crew shows him love despite everything he put them through. He feels guilt about what he did to them, and yet the crew forgive him easily.

This contradicts some of the takes I’ve seen over the past few months that suggest the crew didn’t forgive Ed, or that it wasn’t explicitly shown that they forgave him. I sometimes wonder if those people missed episode 5. In this episode everyone gets closure (or at least starts to).

Ed’s initial speech might sound like a politician’s speech, but even at that stage some of the crew are won over, some even impressed by his apology.

Ed and Izzy share a drink out of a bottle. Ed apologies to Izzy, saying sorry about his leg. It’s awkward, but it’s right for both of them.

Lucius might not get closure after throwing Ed off the ship, but he does start on a sort of path to healing. His therapy is drawing pictures of Ed in an attempt to reconcile the real Ed with the evil Ed in his head. He is putting Ed’s face on nice things that he likes, like flowers and dogs, and kind of creating positive associations with Ed’s face to wipe out the negative one that he had. It’s great therapy. And then Izzy tells him that moving on is better and Lucius takes Pete’s advice and focuses on the fact that he lived and he finally takes hold of what he wants - a life with Pete.

When Ed speaks to Fang he admits his guilt. He says: “Maybe I did too much. I took a man’s leg. Terrorised you. I wasn’t a good guy. I’d like to make amends, but honestly I wouldn’t even know where to start, what to say to make things better. How to say it. There are certain things I should be saying…”

At which point Fang interrupts and basically stops him saying any more. In fact he accuses him of talking too much “because you don’t know how to sit with yourself.” Why does Fang cut Ed off at that point? Maybe he is just saying it’s ok, we forgive you, or maybe he just wants Ed to stop scaring the fish. Whatever reason Fang thinks Ed has said enough. He is forgiven.

Ed takes on Fang’s advice to stop talking and just “sit with yourself”. The whole experience with Fang probably leads to Ed’s philosophical approach to being a fisherman.

What’s all this say? That Ed feels like he has to do more to make amends, but the crew is like: ”We’re ok. We still love you.” I also think there is an element of we don’t need to forgive you for what happened because it wasn’t your fault, it was your depression and despair. Nobody should be blamed for a mental breakdown.

But even in the next episode Ed still feels the guilt. In the Calipso’s Birthday episode we have the Guilt Room. “Excellent, A reminder of my guilt. A guilt room,” as Ed says. Even though the crew has forgiven him, he won’t forgive himself.

Ed uses the symbol of his guilt for something good, he turns the poison into positivity with the party paid for by the plunder. But then of course even that goes wrong with the arrival of Ned Lowe, which Ed blames himself for (Ned being one of his passive suicide options that he has now brought down on the crew and Stede).

I feel that the choice of words Ed uses when he tries to stop Stede killing Ned are significant. He says: “Killing in cold blood, you can’t come back from that.” I always wondered what he meant by that, it seems a strange thing to suggest that the circumstances would be “in cold blood” (e.g. no emotion, ruthless and unfeeling) when they are anything but. That’s not what Stede is doing at all, Stede is defending his crew and ridding the world of someone who sort to hurt and kill them all. He is defending his crew from an evil person, just like Ed defended his mother and himself from his father. It’s another thing Ed has to learn: that sometimes killing is justified and it doesn’t make you a bad person.

Then Ed goes to Stede afterwards to offer support and Stede’s reaction to Ed standing at the door talking about how his first kill was his father is to pull him towards him. Perhaps this isn’t just Stede saying he wants Ed, it could also be Stede saying that it was the right thing to do for both of them, to protect their family. And that they have that thing in common. They are comforting each other - and it’s definitely what Ed wanted to happen, I firmly believe he didn’t only go to Stede to comfort him.

I’m going to leave it there, because obviously Ed still has a lot to work through before he can truly forgive himself and learn that he is loved, but he is part way there.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd meta #save our flag means death #renew as a crew #ofmd renewal #gentlebeard #ed teach #saveofmd

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an-au-blog · 4 months

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An au where sanji cheats on charlotte pudding with zoro. But like not really. Is it cheating if u r about to be married off against ur will. Which is messed up. Sorry. But this has so much feelings. If u cd write as a one last time thing. A closure. He is forcefully being married off to her and one last time with zoro is all he asks for .

My first thought was... he wouldn't do that to a woman... but then I thought... well she's pretty honest about not wanting him though... plus - corruption happens gradually.

Idk how agreeable with the timeline hut uh...

EDIT!!! I started doing this in canon but then I stopped because I thought "okay, but this would be better in royalty au", so I started doing that. Sorry for taking a while. I haven't been on my usual groove lately:/

(ok, uhhh here I go making stuff up now)

Sanji had a bit of an on and off relationship, if one could even call it that. It started off as a moment of weakness but then they started enjoying the comforting touches, the hugs, the lingering kisses. It was nice to feel needed, wanted. And not long after, they became... something. Neither of them knew what... but it was something...

Then the WCI thing happened and Sanji felt more alone than ever. He heard how she talked to him behind his back. She started talking like that in front of him too. He was unwanted, unneeded. There was no Luffy, no Nami... no Zoro.

... ok so uh sorry, wait, royalty au now

Sanji was sent off to marry a princess. He had no idea who she was, but what he did know was that he'd get away from his family. Away from his brothers and father at least. That was enough. After his mother's death, his sister was the only one who he felt alright around.

At first he was so happy to have a chance with a beautiful girl like her. But whenever Sanji tried to meet her before the wedding, she told the guards to refuse him. During the wedding she acted sweet, but it seemed more like she was happy at the guests, rather than him. But he was sure it was fine. After the wedding she acted like he wasn't there. When they got to their bed chambers, she finally turned to him and told him she was "Oh, so tired, would you mind leaving the room for me just for tonight, husband dear?" And of course Sanji would! Sure it might have been a political arrangement, but he'd do all he could to be the best husband for her.

One night kicked out of his own chambers turned into two, turned into a week, turned into several months. She hated him. She didn't want to even look at him. Whenever he was in the room, she'd walk out, not even trying to make up an excuse. He would hang around the kitchens a lot, and from time to time he'd hear the staff whisper about how the mistress would talk badly about the mister. He would listen to all the insults she had said about him and how she wished he'd never been born.

It was better than living in fear of being attacked by his brothers or father... but he felt even more lonely.

He grew tired of having to listen to the servants talking about how she talked behind his back. Tired of having their eyes filled with pity on him every time he tried to distract himself with cooking.

He took a trip into town, he paid one of the servants to give him his clothes. Oddly enough the servants seemed to like him quite a bit. So at least he had some of them to cover for him (not that anyway would look for him).

He looked for a bar or restaurant. He had never actually gone out of the castle gates. No one offered to take him out for a tour or even tell him about his people. All he knew about the things around him was because of books and what he's asked from servants.

He soon finds a bar/tavern. Upon walking in, he bumped into someone. He was going to apologize, but then the man scowled at him. He looked dumb, with three swords and green hair. What a pretentious bastard.

Comments were exchanged and before either of them realized it, they were fighting. The owner of the bar/tavern came out - an old man with a braided mustache. He stopped the fight. Turned out that the moss-headed guy was named Zoro and was a bounty hunter, who was in town not for long. "Such a shame though," the swordsman said "I would've lived to spar again, you're almost like an equal."

"Oh yeah?" Sanji gave in "Come any time, I'd love to kick your ass."

"What do you know about anything, castle-loving freak."

Sanji stepped back at Zoro'z words. They were a joke, he was sure but how did he know? "Wh- what do you mean?"

"Isn't that the uniform of the castle servants?"

Sanji could breathe again. "Oh, yeah, I forgot to change..."

Time passed and each day Sanji would go to the tavern. The owner - Zeff, would let him cook in the kitchen sometimes. Zoro was there for a weeks woth of time and then left without a word. A shame, Sanji felt that they could have had a beautiful friendship... Life continued and not much changed. A year more locked out of his chambers, servants whispered about other people being more welcome in the young lady's room than her own husband. He didn't like that word anymore. It felt hollow when it came to her.

And then Zoro came along again. Sanji didn't know he could be that happy. They went back into a routine. Zoro left now and again for jobs, but the days of his absence started to get less and less. First it was several months, then five or four, until he decided to stay for almost a year in town. Sanji didn't want to hope too big, but he gathered up the courage to ask "why"? Why would he keep coming back to a town with no work for him.

Zoro didn't even try to lie that it was work. Sanji had seen him taking up small jobs and sleeping in the tavern for free. Sanji even tried giving him money, but he's as stubborn as a mule.

The swordsman looked at Sanji and told him why, it was "because you're here."

Sanji didn't believe it at first, he wasn't something anyone would want to stay or go anywhere. But then Zoro kept talking about how he wanted to take Sanji with him and travel. But how could Sanji say yes... how could he say no...

He said he needed time but Zoro took it as a no. He left and this time his voyage was almost as big as the first time. But when he came back, he wasn't alone.

Sanji didn't even notice that he was with other people. The moment he spotted him, he leaped into his arms and kissed him. He kissed him like he wished he did a year ago. He told him that he was an idiot and that he didn't mean it as a no, and then he heard the people behind him. Zoro introduced himself again, as the right-hand man of the future king of the pirates.

Luffy laughed and said "So you're the cook that my ship needs! That's so cool! Join my crew!"

#you gotta understand i am very tired and have been struggling with statistics for 3 days this is all i can do atm #zosan #zsz #sanji x zoro #zoro x sanji #royalty au #answers #op

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blacktobackmesa · 1 year

Note

If everyone got to escape the computer for one (1) day, what would everyone want to do with their time? Together, or individual?

Optional if you put Gordon in the game or keep him irl lol

I feel like that's a conversation that they would have together. Something hypothetical that comes up when they're just hanging out, you know? Maybe on a rainy day, where Gordon's not feeling up to any games, and they're all just chilling together in voice chat.

___

"I think... I would want to have lunch."

Bubby snorted. "Lunch."

"Hey, it's achievable!" Gordon defended Tommy's choice. "I like it better than Benrey's plan to test if he can clip through my walls. But, uh. You do have lunch in there."

"But it's not your lunch," Tommy returned. "I don't have food from your-- from where you are! I want to see if it tastes different."

Gordon's eyebrows raised. "Huh. I never really thought about that."

"Now that's a fine idea!" Coomer lit up. "Gordon, isn't there a soda museum one state over from here? I think we could all make fine use of that, comparing flavors."

Tommy shook his head. "The World of Coca-Cola museum in Las Vegas was only open for a few years. We'd have to go all the way to... to the Atlanta one if we wanted to see the tasting room."

"Not that the trip from New Mexico to Nevada is a quick little jaunt," Gordon added. "If we only had a day to spend together, I'd hate to spend ten hours in the car."

Bubby huffed, crossing his arms. "Fine. I guess we'd have to rob a casino somewhere in this state instead."

"Oh, Atlanta's where they got the puppet museum, right?" Benrey joined in. "That's cool."

"If you want-- actually, y'know what? Air travel would be a new experience for at least a couple of you. We could take a plane to the east coast."

Bubby pointed to Coomer. "Good luck getting this one through the TSA. Metal detectors fear him."

The bionic boxer puffed up with pride, pleased with this description. "Now Gordon, I think there would be no better way to spend our time together than fistfighting airport security."

"Alright. So on our list, we've got: rob a casino, spend all of Gordon's money on cross-country plane tickets, get Gordon on the no-fly list, and potentially lose my security deposit," Gordon gave a dry review. "Anyone have any ideas that don't involve the neat getaway plan of going back into the computer? Because some of us don't have that option."

There was a moment of quiet thought.

"You know that scene with the mall from the movie with the sunglasses brothers? I think Bubby should--"

"Benrey, that is the opposite of what we should do."

"Come onnnn, it's not like anyone goes to malls anymore."

"...I've got something."

Darnold's voice was quiet, but it caught the attention of the group.

"Yeah?" Bubby prompted. "Alright, what've you got?"

"There's, um." Darnold hesitated. "I've looked into this before, actually. I've looked up the coordinates of the Black Mesa research facility... well, where it would have been, if it was real. Gordon, did you know it's only about an hour's drive away?"

Gordon blinked. "I did not. Figured it would be deeper into the desert."

"What's there now?" Tommy asked. "Is it, um, an old government site? For missile testing?"

"I bet it's a quirky and mysterious ghost town!" Coomer contributed. "Full of intrigue and quirky locals!"

Darnold shrugged. "Actually, it's... nothing. Not nothing nothing, Doctor Coomer. Just a lot of, y'know. Dirt. Plants. Bad cell service. And a nice view of the mountains."

There was no right way to respond to that information, really. Darnold seemed increasingly uncomfortable as their friends and companions couldn't find a reply.

After a minute, Tommy spoke.

"That sounds really nice," he said.

"Thanks."

"I know that's... I mean, I'm the one who said I wanted to eat lunch, but..."

"No, I agree," Coomer nodded. "I think I'd like that very much, Darnold."

"I wanna see it too," Benrey agreed. "S'like, closure or something. Bubby?"

The older scientist seemed to be lost in his own head. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "I'm not sure."

"...There's also a nicely reviewed winery on the way," Darnold added coyly. "I wouldn't mind checking that out, either."

Bubby gave a light smile. "Well, I wouldn't mind that. If Gordon didn't mind the gas money and all."

"Wouldn't mind a bit."

Might go a bit like that, I think! Oh and when they got back from standing in the desert and sampling wine, Gordon would take them to the coolest damn art installation in Santa Fe. They'd all love it.

#gordon streamman #haha get minific'd idiot #...youre not an idiot thank you for planting this idea #i visited new mexico a total of one times and now i act like an expert on the place #i'm not. but that's one more times than many hlvrai fans so!#i have been to the puppet museum and world of coke in atl tho.#they have an italian soda there that tastes like a nintendo switch cart #hlvrai #why not main tag #my works

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goldendynastys · 5 months

Text

now that we don’t talk | hjs

summary: you can’t help but feel upset and reel about the past after your breakup with han jisung. however, after weeks of reflection and loneliness, you come to realize that perhaps you’re better off on your own after remembering how awful it was being on and off with him.

pairing: han jisung x fem!reader rating/genre: 18+, Minors DNI | modern/college au, angst, some fluff, slight smut word count: 9.2k warnings/notes: 1989 taylor’s version is my new obsession and this vault track has been growing on me so here we are, long-haired jisung brought me here okay, stoner! jisung, explicit language, alcohol and marijuana usage, major angst, reader is going through it, mentions of sadness and loneliness, slight fluff, jisung is lowkey an asshole and a terrible boyfriend, mentions of sex and sexual activities, reader gets her shit together and finds closure, i’m pretty sure that’s it but if i miss anything please let me know (i’m new at this), hope you all enjoy reading! <3

disclaimer: all members of Stray Kids are faces and name claims for this story. this is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment, or representation of real-life people. any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real life scenarios.

banner made by the lovely @babystrcandy <3

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It was Friday afternoon, and the last thing you wanted to do was meet up for a group project. You and a few other classmates were supposed to be working on some psychology project, analyzing different parts of the brain and how it applies to the work world (you had no clue, it was only assigned to you Wednesday). Your group was supposed to meet yesterday, but of course, one of the members canceled at the last minute, forcing all of you to meet on Friday. Everyone was pissed, to say the least.

The walk to the library was pleasant, if you were being honest. You always loved the spring, how the once dead trees suddenly sprung back to life with healthy leaves and beautiful flowers adorning the branches. The weather was starting to get warmer, which meant you didn’t have to carry around an oversized jacket and gloves all the time. Thank God, cause it came to a point where the freezing cold was starting to bother you. Now you could wear a sweater all on its own and be completely fine.

You watched as some flower petals blew in the wind, smiling at the image above you. With an iced coffee in your hand, you walked through campus and made your way to the library. After walking in silence amongst the wind, you realized that maybe meeting up for the project today wasn’t so bad after all. The walk seemed to calm you, help you ground yourself after all the negative thoughts that ran through your head previously. You were more motivated to take on the project and get as much work done as possible before heading into a nice, relaxing weekend away from classes.

Your group decided to secure a study room on the first floor, since you all could talk freely without people trying to quiet down every five minutes. You saw one of your members, Chae-Won, standing outside a room, to which she greeted you by your name and with a wave. “Hey, Chae-Won. Has anyone else come?” You ask her.

“Yeah, we’re all here. We were doing homework separately here earlier and it took us less than five seconds to find each other,” Chae-Won explained, knowing you would feel bad for being the last one to show up and keep everyone waiting. You both walked into the study room and took your respective seats.

The time you spent preparing for this project went by so quickly, as it was already three in the afternoon and everyone was starting to leave for the night. Your group decided to call it a night, after successfully setting up your slides and actually discussing what the project entailed. You were doing just fine until one of your group members, Alex, decided to mention something that took you completely by surprise.

“Of course I’m going to the party tonight. Han Jisung’s going to be there, and you know how fun he can be at parties. Plus, he has the best weed on campus, and I need to refill my stash,” Alex commented, to which your other group member he was talking to smacked his arm loudly.

You froze at the mention of that name. You hadn’t really heard it in a few weeks, since you didn’t talk to many people and honestly tried to forget everything associated with it. You awkwardly look at your surroundings, trying to change the subject completely.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” Alex apologized, proceeding to use your name in order to convey how deeply sorry he was.

You played it off by smiling and shaking your head. “It’s fine, Alex. It’s been a bit since we’ve broken up, so you’re all good.”

That’s right. Han Jisung was your ex boyfriend, and the mention of his name always made your skin crawl. You were trying to erase every memory you had of him. He wasn’t a terrible boyfriend, no, but certainly not the best. You couldn’t help but briefly think back to all of the fights you had leading up towards the end of your breakup, how angry and sad you were with him. You also couldn’t help but think about the good times you shared, cuddling and kissing and everything else that came with that. A flurry of emotions and memories swarmed your brain all at once, and you just had to get out of that damn library as quickly as possible.

“All right,” you clapped your hands together. “It was great working with you all tonight, I appreciate all of your hard work. I will get started on my part sometime this weekend, not sure when. I’ll see you guys on Monday. Have a good night, everyone.”

Everyone said goodbye to you as you darted for the exit. You stopped in your tracks, however, when you heard Chae-Won call your name. “Wait up!” She cried. “Hey, I’m sorry for what Alex said, he’s a complete idiot. He honestly wasn’t thinking.”

“No, it’s cool. Not a lot of people knew Jisung and I were together, so it’s not a big deal,” you reassured her, a small pang of sadness hitting your chest.

“I know, but it still hurts. Breakups are the worst, especially when the guy is a dumbass,” Chae-Won said, and you couldn’t help but chuckle loudly at her comment. “But seriously, men are idiots, and I’m sorry about your breakup. If you want, we should hangout sometime. I know some cool clubs downtown that play good music and have the best vibes. Or we can just stay in and watch movies, it doesn’t matter to me.”

A huge smile grew on your face. No one has spoken so kindly to you in a while, so to hear that made your heart feel warm. You placed a hand on Chae-Won’s shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile. “Thank you, Chae-Won. I really appreciate it. I’ll definitely take you up on that offer, but I honestly just want to hang out by myself tonight. It’s been a long week.”

“Of course. I was the same last week, and I’ll probably end up falling asleep at ten tonight because of how exhausted I am,” she joked, in which you laughed with her. “But I mean it, just text me anytime and we can work something out.”

“Absolutely, I will for sure. Have a good night,” you told your friend as you made your way to the door.

A bittersweet feeling sat with you as you walked out of the library. On one hand, you started thinking about your ex-boyfriend when you really didn’t want to. But at the same time, you had made a new friend, a friend who seemed really eager to spend time with you. The feeling stayed with you as you walked back to your apartment on-campus, stopping by the grocery store to pick up some dinner and your favorite snacks before heading in for the night. You were excited to have a self-care night, focused solely on yourself and resting after a long week of classes and exams.

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Your night was going completely fine until you decided to redownload Instagram. You had come to realize that despite taking a long shower, doing your nails, and watching a movie, you were still bored out of your mind. Maybe it was because of how early in the night it was, or because you couldn’t stop thinking of Jisung and what he was doing right now. A mixture of both, probably.

Quickly signing into your account, you became nervous as the screen started to load, getting ready to show you account. Immediately upon looking at your feed, your stomach instantly dropped. Not only was there a new post from Jisung, sporting a new haircut and outfit, but there was also a post on his story. You nervously clicked his icon, revealing a group photo of him and his friends at a party from a few months back, claiming he “wanted to show some love to his brothers.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the picture, as you were the one to take that photo, and you weren’t particularly fond of what happened that night. Jisung insisted you come to this party, since you had been locking yourself in your apartment every night for the past two weeks. You kept telling him no, but he only had to say a few words about how pretty you were and how much he missed you for you to change your mind. Looking back, you hate how much of a pushover you were, wishing you had a backbone to tell him no, especially for a guy who didn’t give a damn about you.

The entire night, you clung to Jisung while he completely ignored you, smoking blunts while trying different alcohol drinks and focusing on his friends. They were chatting about something completely stupid, most likely the new video game they all started playing or how many girls they had fucked in the past few weeks. It left you bored and irritated out of your mind, and when Jisung asked you to take a picture of him and his friends, you took the photo and stormed off.

It was a faint memory now, as they all started to blend together because of how similar they were. Jisung would tell you how much he missed you and how pretty you were, you’d hang out, and he’d ignore you if he was with his friends or at a party. The same routine, God knows why you stayed with him all that time when he treated you like shit.

But you were reminded of the good times when you “accidentally” clicked on Jisung’s profile to see what he had been posting. You saw photos of him hanging out at different places in the city, some of which were taken by you. You also recalled taking numerous photos together, some selfies of him kissing you or your cheek, others of you two just being a happy couple. Those days were the best, as it was just you two doing whatever you wanted and having so much fun.

That was one of the reasons why you stayed for so long, because of how sweet and caring Jisung could be. You held onto the hope that he would start treating you like that whenever you were with his friends or in more public spaces, but that never happened, no matter how hard you kept trying.

You couldn’t help but feel a small tear roll down your cheek once you saw some photos of Jisung hanging out with some girls, letting them cling onto him at parties and really starting to notice how much he had changed since you two broke up. His hair was longer, his wardrobe had taken a turn (for the worse, if you were being completely honest), and he just appeared to be having more fun. Especially with the girls on his profile, as you noticed there had been other photos of them together at different parties. You wondered what he did at them, or if he got anxious when he left (since he always told you he was afraid of leaving places at night).

You shut off your phone and you couldn’t help but start crying. You hated how upset you were over this, how you bottled up your emotions and pretended that you were fine, but in reality you were just sad. Sad that you had to break up with the boy you really liked, one that you wanted to have a serious relationship with. You wanted it so badly, and for Jisung to fight for you just as much as you fought for him. But he didn’t, he honestly didn’t care about you that much. Not enough to make him stay.

What got to you the most was the fact that Jisung was posting photos of him hanging out with girls, when he never even posted one photo of you two together. Were you really that awful of a girlfriend? Sure, you had your fair share of flaws, as you were human and humans were not meant to be perfect, but you didn’t think you were that terrible. You were loyal to Jisung, never once did you come off as too clingy or annoying, and you respected his boundaries, never questioning who he was hanging out with in an accusing manner. So why did he treat you the way he treated you when you were together?

You couldn’t help but wonder… had Jisung been seeing other girls when you were together? No, he was not the best boyfriend in the world, that’s for damn sure. But he would never cheat, he constantly reassured you that he wasn’t seeing anyone else and that you were “the only one for him” (which was a total lie, but it was reassuring nonetheless). That was the only thing you believed and remained true throughout the course of your relationship.

When you two started having sex, you wanted to make sure he was clean and did not have any STDs. You both got tested (per your request) and it was something you took very seriously. Jisung constantly reassured you that he did not have an STD and wasn’t seeing anyone else. And he was right; from the numerous times you had sex or done other sexual activities, you never once got an infection.

Sex with Jisung was one of the things you missed the most about your relationship. Not only because he was clean, but because of how good he made you feel. Always letting you come first, pleasuring you in the right places and not stopping until you were satisfied. There was a day where your roommate went home for the weekend and Jisung stayed over, to which you two had sex basically the entire night, trying out different positions and entangling yourself in each other's arms. You even had sex in the shower, which was a whole other playing field you desperately wanted to try again. And you did, on multiple occasions.

You missed the way he made you feel, how he made your body feel. And now that he was most likely doing the same stuff you two did with other girls, you couldn’t help but feel a piece of your heart shatter. You hadn’t really processed the breakup until now, throwing yourself into schoolwork and pretending like everything was fine. Now that you were seeing things for how they actually were, you couldn’t help but start crying.

You could feel the tears falling down your cheeks slowly, coming out rapidly and for no way for you to stop them. You deleted Instagram as quickly as possible as you realized you could no longer stay on that godforsaken app without getting upset. You continued to let yourself cry it out, the bottled up emotions finally exploding and flooding from your mind. You laid in bed and just let yourself cry; it was the best thing you could do for yourself at that point.

Once you realized that crying wasn’t going to make you stop being sad, you decided to call your mother. You two were very close and always had been since childhood. You were just so busy with school and her with her job that it was hard for you guys to talk all the time. Normally you try to call each other once or twice a week, more if you both had the time. This week you hadn’t spoken much, just because of your schedules. You figured she would from work, as it was the evening and she always got out early on Fridays. Sniffling, you opened your phone and dialed her number, waiting anxiously for her to pick up.

It took a few rings before you heard your mother on the other line. “Hello?” She spoke in a normal tone.

“H-Hi Mom,” you cry quietly, trying not to break down right in front of her. “Do you have a minute to talk?”

“Oh of course, what’s going on?” She asked, immediately knowing something was wrong. Mother’s instinct, you guessed. “Why are you crying? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I’m not in danger or anything, but . . . do you remember Jisung? My ex boyfriend?” You ask, making yourself comfortable on your bed and hugging one of your Squishmallows.

“Ugh, yeah. I don’t mean to sound harsh, but I don’t like him,” your mother answered, disgusted. You couldn’t help but laugh at her behavior, as you felt the exact same way about him. “Why? Has he done something to upset you?”

“No. Matter of fact, we haven’t spoken since I broke up with him. No I just, I was doing this group project for one of my classes and this guy Alex mentioned how Jisung was going to have this epic party tonight and . . . I don’t know. I logged onto Instagram just to see what he’s been up to and . . . he’s completely changed. He grew his hair long, and it looks like he’s trying out different lives with all the ‘cool’ photos he’s been posting at different places in the city. He even posted photos with some girls, and I guess it just hit me that we’re not together anymore. I’ve been holding it for weeks now and all the emotions are hitting me at once. So yeah, I’m just really sad. I’m sorry to bother you, I know it’s late and you’ve had a long day at work.”

“Do not apologize,” your mother reassured you. “You are completely fine. I’m your mom, I’m always here for you. Let me be the first to say that I think Jisung is a loser, okay? I never liked him, not since you told me about how terribly he treated you at that party and other times after that. In all seriousness, social media only shows one side of the story. I know you’ve heard this a million times, but it’s true. People only post the best parts of their lives to make it seem like they’re cool and interesting, when they really aren’t. Jisung is doing the exact same thing.”

“No, I know what you mean, and I agree with you. It just sucks because he’s posting photos I took of him and he wouldn’t even post a photo of us together, but has the audacity to post photos with two girls? It just makes me so upset. I know I was the one to dump him, but I did it because of how he treated me like garbage. He’d ignore me whenever we would hang out with his friends, get mad at me for being mad at him for being an asshole, and just gaslight me into thinking that he wasn’t treating me terribly, he was just ‘busy’ with school. I don’t know, it’s hitting me all at once and I don’t know what to do,” you vented, wiping the many tears that fell from your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt.

Silence filled between you as you cried, your mother soothing you over the phone by letting you cry. “Let it out, it’s okay. Just get everything off of your chest, I’m right here. You’re dealing with a lot, so just let it out.”

You continued to cry until what felt like forever, and you finally managed to take a deep breath and restart the conversation. “It hurts, and I don’t know why. I guess I still miss him, he’s changed and he didn’t have to. I miss how it used to be. I . . . I wish we could get back together. Start fresh, you know?”

“Of course. I get what you mean, I was the same with this boyfriend I had in high school. I wanted him back, he was a piece of shit, and eventually I got over it. Thank God, cause Ricky turned out to be a complete asshole. He’s also gotten really ugly,” your mother shared, to which you giggled at how she spoke about her ex. “I say all this to remind you that it’s normal to want him back. But Honey, it’s for the best. Jisung was not a good boyfriend to you. Every time you gave him attention and showed interest in him, he’d always blow you off or get annoyed. He wanted you less than you wanted him, you have to remember that.”

You nodded your head, realizing what your mother said was true. “You’re right, he did get uninterested and bored whenever I gave him attention and affection. And then he’d get mad and tell me that he missed me so much whenever I didn’t talk to him for a few days. Ugh, people like that are the absolute worst. You either want me or you don’t, you can’t have both.”

“Yes! Exactly!” Your mother agreed with you enthusiastically. “That’s how Jisung was with you. I mean, he basically faded away weeks before you broke up with him. I know you miss him, but it’s the idea of him that you miss and want back. Not actually him. This breakup is for the best, you’ll find someone who will treat you right and make you forget that Jisung even exists. I know it doesn’t help much, but trust me, it is true. And it will happen.”

“It does help. I’m so young, I have so much to look forward to and crying over a stupid boy is so pointless. Well, not pointless, but you know what I mean. I think I’m okay now, I’m just going to remind myself whenever I get sad that it’s for the best and it’s okay to feel the way I’m feeling. I just need to remember that Jisung is an asshole and I deserve better,” you told your mother, but mainly to yourself since you’re coaching yourself through your emotions. “Thank you for listening to me, Mommy. I appreciate it so much.”

“I’m your mom, Honey. I’m always here for you, no matter what. I’m glad you’re feeling better and that you’re actually processing your emotions. It’s not good to bottle them up, you know,” your mother reassured you. “Take it easy for the rest of the night, okay? Watch a movie, have some ice cream, read a book. I don’t know, whatever is going to help you relax. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“For sure, I’m just so grateful for you and everything that you do for me. Thank you,” you thanked her. “I think I’m going to put on a movie and eat some ice cream. Should I watch When Harry Met Sally or 10 Things I Hate About You?”

“Ooh, they’re both so good. Um, I’d have to say When Harry Met Sally. Classic, can never go wrong with it,” your mother answered. “I gotta run, your father wants to watch a show before we go to bed. Call me if you need anything or if you still want to talk, okay?”

“Okay Mom, I will. Tell Dad I say hi and that I miss him! I love you, talk to you soon,” you answered.

“I will. I love you more, goodnight,” she spoke.

“Goodnight,” and with that, you both hung up the phone.

You took a deep breath before sighing. It felt good to get that off your chest, as it had been weighing on you for so long. You felt a bit better, a sense of clarity washing over you as you got organized for the movie you were about to watch. Of course, you were still upset about Jisung and a small part of you still wanted him back, but that was a natural part of a breakup. Of course you wanted him back, it had only been a few weeks since you broke up, so it was normal for you to miss him and want to get back together. You knew you would get over this eventually, you just needed time to let out your emotions and process them.

You’d be the person you were before you dated Jisung and you started to look forward to finding yourself again. A small smile arose on your face as you turned on the television and got your movie ready, excited for a nice, relaxing weekend.

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The weekend was a relaxing time for you, a peaceful weekend you really needed. You finished that movie you told your mom you were going to watch (and it was amazing, as always) and then you decided to go to bed for the night. It wasn’t hard for you to sleep with all of your Squishmallows and stuffed animals surrounding you. You had a great night's sleep, to put it simply, and it prepared you for the nice weekend ahead.

You only had a little homework left to complete, just the slides for your project and a quick quiz to take (to which you got a one hundred percent, per usual). You did that fairly early in the day so you could have the rest of the day to do whatever you wanted. Rather than wallowing in your apartment all day, you decided to explore the city and go to different places you hadn’t been before. You had put on a cute outfit, one that made you feel confident and fashionable. You wanted that boost after how low you were feeling last night, and you hadn’t worn something cute in a while, so you figured this would be the perfect time to do so.

You traveled to different vintage shops and bookstores, looking for little trinkets to put in your room. Eventually you found some cool little plates and small, aesthetic photos to put on your wall and bookshelf. You even found a vintage vinyl record and a new book to read, so all in all, it was a successful day. You went to a new cafe you had been wanting to try for a while now, but hadn’t had the time because of school and . . . well, doing whatever Jisung wanted to do.

You tried to block him out of your thoughts, especially since you wanted to heal from the breakup and move on with your life. And you were successful, for the most part. It was the little things that made you think of Jisung, such as wanting to tell him all about the new book you found or wanting to take him to the coffee shop and antique store you went to. But you quickly reminded yourself that the breakup was for the best, and that whenever you gave Jisung so much attention, he’d want you less and less. That helped you stop and reset your mind, and it worked for the majority of the day.

After your adventure, you decided to head home, get some good food from the campus dining hall, and watch another movie. You loved watching movies and rating them on your Letterboxd account, it was a hobby you found pleasurable. Being able to rate movies and see what others thought about it, especially the ones that left funny reviews. You tried to leave funny ones that you saw on Twitter and TikTok, but they were not nearly as great or creative as what other people wrote. Still, it was a fun thing to do.

You quickly placed your bags on your bookshelf and made your way to the dining hall. Though you lived on-campus, it was still a far walk because you lived on one side and the dining hall was on another, so you wanted to make sure you got there on time. And you certainly didn’t mind it on this gorgeous afternoon. It didn’t take you as long as you thought and you had plenty of time, but you wanted to make sure you weren’t being rude by showing up ten minutes before the dining hall closed. You just wanted to be courteous to the staff who worked long hours in the cafeteria.

You noticed you had gotten a text from your mother, to which you pulled out your phone and tried to read what it said. However, you collided with someone, in which both of you stumbled backwards with a gasp. Luckily, neither of you had a drink in your hands, so no one’s clothes got stained with various liquids. That was always a plus. Nothing else fell, either, which was an honest relief. You could not afford to get your phone screen fixed nor could you buy a new one, so it was just a matter of running into someone while you weren’t looking.

“Sorry about that, I . . .” the voice trailed off, in which it belonged to Hwang Hyunjin, a friend of Jisung's who just so happened to be heading to the dining hall at the same time you were. He proceeded to say your name in a confused manner, surprised to see you out and about.

“Hyunjin? Hey, how are you? It’s been a while,” you asked with an enthusiastic smile. You always liked Hyunjin, as he was very nice and made you feel welcome within him and Jisung’s friend group. More than Jisung, if you were being honest.

“I’ve been good, yeah just busy with school and studying. I’ve been trying to paint more when I have the time and it’s coming along really nicely,” he explained, which made you happy to hear. Even if you and Jisung were no longer together, you had a soft spot for his friends and wished them nothing but the best. “H-How have you been? None of us have heard from you in, like, weeks.”

A puzzled look arose on your face as you processed the question. Did Jisung not say anything? Why didn’t he tell his best friends that he and his girlfriend broke up? After all, all of you spend a good amount of weekends together, going out to dinner or hanging out at parties. Why wouldn't Jisung come clean? Unless he didn’t care to tell them and just assumed they would figure it out on their own, which hurt more than you thought it did, but maybe it was for the best. Let the boys think you turned into a mystery, it made you feel cool and interesting.

You took a deep breath before breaking the news to Hyunjin, wanting to prepare for the awkwardness that would come afterwards. “Uh, yeah. I got really busy with school and stuff, but um . . . Jisung and I aren’t together anymore. We broke up. That’s the main reason for why you all don’t see me around anymore.”

There was a pause, the Hwang boy taking in everything you told him. He looked shocked, to say the least, as he figured you were just busy with school and didn’t have the time to party. But he thought wrong and did not expect for you and Jisung to break up. He couldn’t help but let out a sigh. “Shit. I-I didn’t know,” he continued by mentioning your name in a serious and caring manner. “I’m sorry, that’s awful. Can I ask why? if it’s too much, you don't have to share—”

“No it’s okay, Hyunjin. Really, it’s fine. We just don’t have anything in common and I wanted to focus on school and finding an internship,” you admit. You couldn’t pretend it was for platonic reasons, as your relationship just ended and you could not fathom being Jisung’s friend right now. “So yeah, I ended things a few weeks ago. I’m doing okay, I just spent the day in the city and went to some really cool stores. You’d really like the antique shop I went to, they have a lot of paintings you would think are cool.”

Hyunjin nodded his head sympathetically. “That’s cool, I’ll definitely check it out when I have the time. I’m just busy between school and extracurriculars, it’s chaotic,” he commented. “But I’m sorry to hear that, you guys were cute together. Do you think you guys could ever be friends? We miss having you around and would love to keep hanging out with you.”

“If I’m being honest, I don’t think so. There’s just too much that happened and I’m not even sure if Jisung and I could even be friends given our history. And in general, too, since we’re complete opposites,” you sadly explained. It was true: you and Jisung were too different and you could not be his friend. If you couldn’t get along romantically, then how the hell were you two supposed to get along as friends? You’d rather play it safe and just not be friends with him. You wanted to be as far away as you could be from the Han boy, especially since you wanted to heal and prioritize yourself from now on.

You could tell Hyunjin was upset, since he liked hanging out with you and everyone else. It hurt your heart, but it was for the best. Who knows, maybe you could put this behind you one day and be friends with them again, Jisung included. But right now, it just hurt too much, and it would be better for your mental health if you kept your distance from Jisung and his friends.

“I understand, you gotta put yourself first and do what’s best for you. I respect that,” Hyunjin explained. “But we’re always here for you if you change your mind. We can deal with Jisung, we can even kick him out of the house for the night and make him hang out with his other friends while you hang out with us. Only if you want though, it’s just an option in case you ever wanted to.”

You laughed at his idea. “Thank you, Hyunjin. I really appreciate it. You’re so kind, so sweet. Don’t let anyone take that away from you.”

“Of course. I always got your back,” he reassured you, adding your name to the end of his sentence to make sure you knew he meant what he said. “I have to run to the library before they close to print something. I’ll see you around?”

You nodded your head and started to make your way toward the dining hall. “Yeah, I’ll see you around. Bye, Hyunjin.”

He called out your name while he waved goodbye, and with that, you parted ways. You wanted to cry, the moment you shared was so sweet and it made you sad that you could no longer be friends with Hyunjin and the rest of Jisung’s friends. They were such a great group of guys, even when they were annoying, they always managed to make you laugh and include you in everything when you were all together. It was for the best, but you knew you were going to miss having a big group of friends who really cared about you.

It was almost as if a lightbulb had turned on in your head. You were sad about not being able to have friends, but you realized that your only friends were your boyfriend’s friends (you are an antisocial person who has had trouble making friends at your school). Meaning, you were sad about not having friends, but it was up to you now to go out of your comfort zone and start trying to make friends. Sure, people were probably settled in their friend groups by now, but you truly did not give a fuck. Surely there had to be people out there who were looking for friends too or simply did not stick to one friend group. You just had to put yourself out there and just find the right people.

It was going to be hard for sure, as you don’t make best friends five minutes into meeting them, but you were looking forward to the journey and who you would meet along the way. You decided to eat your dinner before making any action steps towards your plan because you were starving and had to get food before the dining hall closed. Once that was taken care of, you walked back to your apartment as quickly as possible.

You sat on your couch and decided to give Chae-Won a call. She had given you her number before you left the library on Friday, saying how you could reach out to her if you ever wanted to hang out. So, in honor of starting your journey to finding friends, you decided to act on it and dialed her number. It took a few rings before she answered, and you were nervous to talk to her, but ready nonetheless. “Hello? Who is this?”

“Hey, Chae-Won!” You greeted her and let her know your name. She excitedly said hello and was happy that you called. “Yeah, I am too! I was just wondering . . . are you going anything tonight?”

And from there on out, your world was about to shift on its axis for the better.

──────────────────────

Six months had passed since everything that happened, and you were in a much better place than before. A lot had happened in a short amount of time — some great things, the others mundane. It didn’t matter, because you were thriving.

The phone call you shared with Chae-Won was what started it all, really. You had asked her if she wanted to hang out that night, and she was very happy that you asked her that. You ended up staying at her apartment for the night and had a blast, watching movies and drinking good drinks. You talked about what you both liked to do for fun and what other classes you were taking, and it turned out you two liked similar things. You loved watching movies and rating them on Letterboxd, you loved music, and you loved exploring the city. You both could tell from that night a special friendship had begun to blossom.

You continued to make friends through your classes while also prioritizing yourself and your mental health. You only did things you wanted to, knew when your social battery was draining and went home to recharge, and you started to journal to reflect on your life and try to better understand who you were. These methods have helped you greatly and continue to do so to this day. You have learned a lot about yourself and have grown in so many ways. You were proud of how far you had come, to say the least.

In addition to Chae-Won becoming a very close friend of hers, you also met some friends outside of your major and in extracurriculars. It was a bit hard at first, as Chae-Won was your only friend and it was challenging to meet people when they already had their established friend groups. You were lonely, but making an active effort into meeting people. Eventually, your hard work paid off and you started meeting people like yourself. They had friends, but not a tight-knit friend group who did everything together. Turns out, the friends you were meeting were also friends with Chae-Won, and a little group formed between you four.

You started doing small things, like going over to each other’s apartments to hang out and watch movies. As you started to become closer, you started to visit the cool clubs Chae-Won mentioned during your meeting for that group project (to which your group got an A, courtesy of you two working your asses off you make sure it was good) and other spots recommended from strangers you met on your outings. You always had a good time together, and even aside from them, you liked the girls and boys you befriended even outside of the friend group that you would occasionally do things with.

Who knew that by actually leaving your bedroom and putting yourself out there would cause you to meet people and make friends! (Those were the exact words your mother used when you called her to tell her the news about meeting new friends and taking better care of yourself. You still laughed about that, even now, but your mother was absolutely right. When was she ever wrong)?

On top of learning about yourself and meeting new friends, you also acquired a summer internship in the city. You did some advertising work for a computer company, making sure their ads were effective and how to best get people to buy their products through the use of visuals. This was the reason why you were a marketing major and a psychology minor: to do work like this. It was the best of both worlds and you got to do something you loved, which was something you were very serious about. If you didn’t love the work that you did, then you would’ve been miserable and you simply could not have that.

Your new friends didn’t live too far from the city, so they came and visited you whenever they could on the weekends and you did whatever you wanted, since it was summer and there were no classes. The summer was perfect overall: you had a great job, you met amazing friends, and you were in a better place than you were in the winter. It was interesting to see how things became full circle, you honestly thought you would never see the day.

But even with this healing journey and getting to a better place, you couldn’t help but think about Jisung every so often. You didn’t miss him, no . . . did you? You couldn’t tell. You missed hanging out and being in a relationship with him, and he wasn’t the worst boyfriend on the planet, so it wasn’t like you were running back to a completely terrible situation. But then you remembered all the bad stuff that happened within it, and then you were torn. You were in a much better place mentally from when you first got together and broke up, so the idea of trying it again didn’t seem so terrible. You would only reconsider it if you were to run into him on campus and have an actual conversation. Perhaps that would give you the clarity you had been looking for.

And that day surely came when you least expected it. It was around the third week of classes, and you were heading to one of your advertising classes when you heard someone call out your name. You looked up in confusion, as no one has ever yelled out your name like that before. Curiously, you tried to search for whoever said your name, which didn’t take you long because once you saw the figure of Han Jisung, with his long hair and interesting choice of clothes, you immediately knew it was him.

Your legs and body froze as you watched him walk towards you. You did not know what to do — part of you wanted to blow him off and say you were running late to class, but the other side of you wanted to talk to him, to see how things were. You had no idea which choice was the right decision. You were scared you were going to immediately forgive him and forget everything that happened between you two, and you didn’t want that. At least, you didn’t think you did.

Your mind became filled with a tornado of thoughts once Jisung approached you. He had that signature smile he always gave you whenever he greeted you. Butterflies erupted in your stomach simultaneously, and it was almost as if you had forgotten how to speak.

“Hey, Sunshine,” he greeted. “It’s been a while, how are you? How was your summer?”

You stared at him for a brief moment before collecting yourself. You can do this, you said to yourself. Just talk to him how you would talk to your friends. “Jisung, hey! I’m . . . I’m doing well. Yeah, I stayed in the city to do an internship and it was great. H-How about you?”

“Oh it was great, I did some work for this tech company, mainly coding and shit. It wasn’t bad, but I’d much rather be listening to music and chilling, you know,” he explained nonchalantly.

“Ah, yes. You always said music and relaxing were way more fun than studying and classes,” you commented, in which he laughed. You recalled many times when you would hang out with him on the quad after your classes while he skipped his and listened to some songs that you thought were just God-awful. You didn’t even know what genre they would be considered, that’s how bad it was.

“And I still believe it’s true. That and doing it with someone you like or are close with, those three things are what make it perfect,” Jisung laughed again. “Do anything fun over the summer?”

“Yeah, I hung out with some of my friends who live close to the city. They’re all in different majors, but they’re really nice. Other than that, I just went to visit home a few times,” you answered.

“That’s nice. How’s your mom doing?” He asked.

She thinks you’re a loser, you thought to yourself while you tried to hide your smile. You couldn’t help but think back to what she said all those months ago, and how she probably felt the same way today. You shook your head, “she’s doing great, I’ll tell her you say hi,” you reassured. “How was your summer?”

“Oh it was fine. Boring, but fun. Went to a few parties, smoked a lot and just had a good time with my friends from home. I missed the guys though, we only saw each other once. I’m glad we’re together again,” Jisung explained and you just nodded your head.

You were happy his summer wasn’t terrible. Certainly you wouldn’t have wanted to have been together; him dragging you to parties and completely ignoring you while hanging out with his friends was the definition of hell for you. You were glad that he had his fun and you had yours.

There was an awkward silence between you, like there was something that wanted to be said but neither of you could say anything. You briefly glanced at your phone and saw that class was starting in ten minutes, and it was then that you decided to break the silence and speak. “I gotta get to class in ten minutes, it was nice running—”

“I miss you,” Jisung blurted out, which made your stomach drop. You could feel your chest tighten as you anticipated his next words. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot and I . . . I just miss you and being with you. I know we haven’t talked in, like, months, but I miss you. Do you want to get coffee this week and talk about this more?”

And there it was. This was what you were waiting for, now and when you two first broke up. You had hoped it wouldn’t, but it was inevitable at this point. You eventually had to talk about it. And you just stood there, staring at him and admiring his beauty. His hair was still long, hidden in a black beanie with a pair of headphones resting on his neck. Han Jisung was an attractive person, there was no denying that.

He sounded genuine, with his words. He wanted to talk about your relationship and how to move forward, to get back together. He wanted to be with you. Your old self wouldn’t even give it a second thought and immediately say yes. She would have wanted this for you. But now, you weren’t sure.

You thought about the nights you spent crying over how he treated you at a party, or when he wouldn’t text you back but would post back-to-back on his Instagram and Snapchat stories. You thought about how every time you put so much energy into him and your relationship, he would give less back and would get annoyed. When you gave less, he claimed he missed you and wanted you to spend time with him. You never knew which Jisung you were going to get: the kind Jisung, who was the one who made you want to be his girlfriend in the first place. Or the asshole Jisung, who ignored you and got annoyed at you for simple actions.

The whole relationship drained you. A constant battle of he’s such a great boyfriend, I love him or he’s the worst person ever and I can’t believe he’s treating me this way. Jisung seemed like he wanted things to be different this time around, with his serious face and tone of voice. But how do you know if it was sincere? Was he just saying it to get back together and then would repeat the same actions later on?

And when you thought about your relationship more, you realized there were some things you could stop pretending to like. Jisung’s music taste, for example. You always told him it was cool and unique, but you honestly hated it. Now that you weren’t together, you didn’t have to pretend to like his shitty music. And you also didn’t have to pretend that you liked going to parties with him, while he ignored you the entire night and focused on his friends doing the stupidest things ever. You realized you didn’t have to pretend to like things for the sake of making other people happy.

And man, was that feeling life changing.

You couldn’t help but think about the good parts of your relationship, too. Your hangouts in the city, in your bedroom’s, watching movies and having sex whenever you could. They were all great memories most definitely, but memories that were not worth getting back together for the sake of being together.

The healing journey you went on (and were still currently on) made you into a better person. You turned into a shrouded mystery, completely reinventing yourself and changing your outlook on everything. You became unrecognizable, similar to how you were before you met Jisung. Turning into a shrouded mystery and going through that painful start of your journey was the only way back to your dignity. And that was simply something you could not afford to lose again, you couldn't risk losing all of that hard work you did.

You took a deep breath in before giving Jisung your answer. “Jisung, I . . . I can’t. We . . . the way you treated me was just awful. I really let you walk all over me and I am not going to do that again. I know you’ve probably changed and won’t do it again, but I just can’t. The breakup sucked and it took me a long time to get to where I am now, and I can’t destroy the progress I’ve made. I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s a good idea if we get back together.”

You watched Jisung’s face fall as you explained your answer. You hated hurting people, but you had to do it for yourself. “I completely understand. I’m really sorry for how I treated you, I am. I feel terrible for the way I acted and how I made you go out when you didn’t want to. I don’t know what I was thinking, but you deserve a lot better than me. And I will forever be upset over how I treated you and let an awesome girl go.”

His apology warmed your heart a bit; it was good to have an actual apology for how awful you had been treated, it healed a small part of your heart. “Thank you, Jisung,” you thanked him quietly. “I’ll always be thankful for you and our relationship. You taught me a lot and it honestly helped me go out of my comfort zone. If it weren’t for you or our break up, I wouldn’t have changed and be the person I am today. So thank you for that, truly.”

A sad laugh escaped his lips. “Glad I was actually able to give you something great,” he spoke quietly, in which his words made you smile slightly. “Do you think we could be friends?”

You hesitated to answer at first, but you eventually found the right words to say. “Um, not right now, no. I think I just need to focus on myself and figure out what the hell I’m doing with life and everything. Being friends could turn into something else that I do not have time to worry about nor do I want to worry about. Plus, I am just really busy with school and homework, so I wouldn’t be able to hang out much,” you explained. “It’s not entirely out of the picture, though. Once I’m in a better place with myself, I don’t see why not. You’re a kind and funny person, Han Jisung. I want those kinds of people as my friends.”

Jisung nodded his head. “Yeah, I understand. Take as long as you need. It doesn’t matter if you decide by seventy-five that you are ready to be friends, I will gladly welcome you with open arms. That is, if I’m not in a nursing home by then. We’ll figure it out once we live next door to each other and have to figure out how to convince the nurses to give us better cafeteria food.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his comment. Aside from your relationship drama, Jisung was a good guy who knew how to make people laugh and was very sincere. You were glad you were able to talk to him like this, even if it was for the last time, and leave things on a positive note. You looked down at your watch and saw that you only had five minutes until you had to get to class. “Listen, I really have to make it to this class, this professor is very strict on locking the doors right when the class starts. I’m happy we were able to talk, Jisung. I am glad you are doing well and thank you for . . . this. I don’t know how to describe it.”

“No worries, I get what you mean. I’m happy that you’re doing well, too,” he said. “I’ll see you around, Sunshine.”

And with that, Jisung turned around and made his way to another building on campus. You made your way into your classroom building and wandered the halls until you entered class and took your seat. Sitting down forced you to reflect on your conversation with Jisung, and how you were able to get the closure you needed.

You had been waffling earlier if you two should get back together now that you were in a good place. You could set necessary boundaries now that you were a more confident person. However, you decided against it and told Jisung that you did not want to get back together with him. From what he told you and your own realizations, you realized you would be better off staying single and focusing on yourself and your studies for a little while.

And with that came a happy feeling within your mind and body. You made the right decision, a decision that was going to best benefit you in the long run. A sense of peace had washed over you, and you couldn’t help but smile as you opened your textbook and began to take notes on your lecture, knowing that everything was going to be okay no matter what happened to you in the years to come.

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blairsanne · 1 year

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Pretend to Be Nice - 2 - Not a Monster

For the @deanobingo 2023 event!

Prompts: Anders Johnson - Nightmare, Jealousy, In Vino Veritas, "Come with me."

The Almighty Johnsons - Anders & female Reader 5551 words

Summary: You've avoided Anders since your unanswered confession, but when Axl invites you to a party at his place, you force yourself to attend. Anders pretends not to care what you're up to, but can't help but get involved.

CW: Alcohol consumption, drugging, vague mention of hookups. Angsty? Slow burn I guess? (This is a multi-part story.) Series Masterlist here

Weeks passed.

You hadn’t told anyone about your forced confession to Anders, and you assumed - based on the lack of harassment from the others - that he hadn’t either.

He also hadn’t contacted you at all; a far cry from his usual texts and invites out. You took this to mean he had no desire to be around you and encourage your pathetic infatuation; that he had no interest in you as a partner or a friend.

Mortified after your confession, there was no way you were going to reach out first, and you’d been happy to avoid everyone while you tried to kill the stupid feelings.

That hadn’t gone especially well.

The complete lack of response from Anders felt like it could only be a rejection, and yet it lacked any closure, so you found yourself obsessing over it. You’d replayed the gobsmacked expression of his in your mind so much that you’d started to have dreams about it; dreams where he’d answered you.

Sometimes in the dreams, he’d pulled you into a passionate embrace, confessing that he felt the same. Other times he’d told you not to feel that way; confirmed that there was no intention from him to change how things stood between you.

Naturally, your other godly friends had tried to get you out to the usual gatherings, but you’d been fortunate enough since then to have completely legitimate conflicting plans - between work and mortal-friend commitments - to get you out of them. Nobody had to know you’d sought them out specifically to avoid Anders and his brothers.

No such luck this week, though, so when Axl’s personal invitation to a party at his flat came by text, you were hard-pressed to think of a good reason why you wouldn’t be there.

You knew you couldn’t avoid the Johnsons forever, and no matter how much ribbing you expected to get from Anders, you told yourself it was better to try to get back to normal as soon as possible.

Maybe if he’s really awful to me I’ll get over him faster.

Still, you didn’t really fancy getting told how ugly you looked, so you spent a little longer perfecting your hair and makeup than usual, donning a skintight dress similar to ones that Anders had praised in the past.

At least if you were unwanted by him, maybe you could hook up with one of Axl’s little friends to make yourself feel better.

Axl lit up when he saw you arrive. It had only been a couple weeks since he’d seen you, but after Anders’s odd comments about you not wanting to go out with them, he had noticed your absence on the club nights and at the usual weekend get-togethers.

He’d personally invited you this time, hoping that a request from Odin might hold more weight. He hoped that if you came, he could get Anders to apologize to you, or at the very least sort out why you were upset with his (admittedly rude) older brother.

“Hey, you made it!”

You couldn’t help but return Axl’s wide grin, letting out a small laugh as he pulled you into a tight hug.

“I did.” “We missed you.” “Missed you too. Just been busy of late. But- here now.”

You had missed them. All of them, Anders included. As soon as you were in Axl’s presence, it was like your goddess spirit woke up, happy to be around her kind.

“Most of the others aren’t here yet, but my schoolmates are.” He gestured down the hall to where you could see Axl-aged dudes chugging cans of beer. “Fancy a drink?”

“Chur.” “Keen.”

You followed Axl toward the kitchen, thinking it was awfully sweet of him to be so happy to see you, and feeling a stone of guilt for avoiding him and the others.

Anders arrived fashionably late, refusing to cut short his work dinner for what he knew was going to be a shitty party with young mortals in attendance.

After greeting Axl he made his way toward the kitchen to find some piss.

He spotted you straight away - standing in a corner, batting your lashes at some tall lanky mortal he’d never seen. You looked like sex on legs, and he wanted you to take off your dress for an entirely different reason than that one time at Michele’s.

Still he feigned not to notice, taking a breath as he approached the chilly bin.

Michele, who was standing nearby, however, didn’t fail to catch him looking in your direction. She stepped forward and took a beer right after him.

“Now that all the Johnsons are present, something's sure to go awry,” she greeted him.

“Such a friendly goddess. Can’t imagine why Colin dumped you.”

Michele gaped, amusement joining the offense in her voice. “I dumped him, you prick. As you well know.” “Mm, to bag my older brother who you wanted to make a sacrifice as I recall.”

She shrugged. “Well that was then.” “Go easy on him.” “Where’s the fun in that?”

Anders met Michele’s smirk with a smile of his own. He didn’t really care about them dating so long as nothing bad happened to his brothers as a result.

Michele surveyed the scene, frowning. “We’re really slumming it tonight, eh?”

He held his hands as if weighing two points. “Free piss. Distinct lack of viable bedmates.” “Depends on your standards.”

Michele gestured toward where you were twirling your hair, flirting with some guy who was eating it up. “Speaking as the most attractive person in the room-”

“Second most,” Anders interjected. You being the first.

Michele flipped him the bird without looking. “-he’s just acceptable for a mortal. She can do better.”

Anders put a hand to his chest in mock-defensiveness. “I’ve tried going there, but she turns me down,” he joked.

It was true that he’d initially tried it on and been rebuffed, but that had been before you’d really become friends with the Johnsons. It hadn’t crossed his mind seriously again until your spontaneous confession the other day, but he’d imagined it several times since. Now he really wasn’t sure where you stood. Why confess only to tell him nothing would come of it?

“Don’t even think about it, Bragi.”

Anders bristled at the way Michele sneered his godly name.

“She deserves heaps better than you.” “What the hell does that mean?” “That while you may brainwash mortals into a night of fun, you’re not capable of keeping a goddess satisfied.” “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Just remember that we goddesses stick together.”

“Ooh.” He shrugged. “Scary. I think we’re past all that, don’t you?”

Michele shrugged, feigning a lack of concern. “Not that she’d ever go for a pig like you anyway.”

He assumed that Michele’s comments meant you hadn’t told your little goddess friends about your supposed infatuation with him. He almost corrected her, but decided to keep your privacy instead.

“You don’t know that.”

Michele sized Anders up, remembering your comments about not pursuing your feelings, and let out a derisive snicker before walking off. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Anders turned his attention back to you and the young mortal you were flattering. “Right, just look at my insurmountable competition,” he quipped lightly.

Michele laughed, agreeing that Axl’s friend was hardly a great catch.

Anders watched you silently, telling himself that Michele didn’t know what she was talking about; about whether or not you were into him, and about whether or not he could satisfy you.

I could if I wanted to, he thought defensively.

Did he want to, though? Your rejection had been a blow to his ego, and instinctively he wanted to prove Michele wrong; but did that mean he wanted to pursue you?

He pursed his lips as he watched you place your hand on the mortal’s arm, batting your lashes as you smiled up at him. Nostrils flaring, he looked over the crowd, wondering where his brothers had ended up. If he had to watch you fawn over the loser much longer he thought he might chunder.

Not that he was jealous.

“Oh thank god,” Michele murmured, watching you excuse yourself from the mortal they’d been assessing on your behalf.

She flashed you a grin when you spotted her, and you smiled back, then fought to keep your expression light as you spotted Anders standing near her.

You pretended like it didn’t burn a hole in your stomach as you walked over.

Anders noted your empty beer bottle, and by the time you’d placed it on the counter, he had a fresh one opened that he pressed into your hand.

“Ta,” you managed, throat feeling dry. You couldn’t quite maintain eye contact with him, the double judgment of knowing that both Anders and Michele were aware of your feelings for him making you feel extra scrutinized.

“Have to take care of my favourite goddess.”

Michele snorted, but you felt the heat rising in your cheeks, so you took a swig and turned your attention from Anders to Michele.

“You can do better,” Michele quipped, and you caught that she also meant it about Anders and not just the guy you’d been chatting up.

“Seriously,” Anders piled on. “No offense to Ax’, but his friends are not Auckland’s finest.”

“Well I’m not shopping for a husband, am I?” You tilted your head to rub at your neck as you looked over to the kid in question. “Sometimes it’s just nice to feel wanted,” you commented lightly.

You didn’t see the way Anders’s expression flickered, all three of you immediately distracted by another of the Tech students walking up behind you and Michele.

“Ladies.”

You and Michele both turned to face him in confusion.

Michele gave him an instant lookover, her face quirking into an unimpressed expression.

“Hello,” you offered, trying to be polite.

Anders tilted his head at the guy and loosed his Bragi tones, wincing in second-hand embarrassment. “They’re both way out of your league, mate.”

The stranger gave a dazed nod, then turned to walk off.

You hugged yourself, feeling awkward, while Michele raised her brows and cocked her head at Anders.

“Oh- I’m sorry- Did you want him, Michele?” he asked teasingly. “I didn’t think Mike was the sort to share.”

She flashed him a bemused smile. “He’s not.”

The next thing you knew, she was wrapping her arm around your shoulders. “Come on, you. I haven’t seen you in ages and we have catching up to do.”

“Right…” You glanced at Anders, feeling like maybe that was a rude way to walk away after having a group conversation with him.

He gave you a quick nod of goodbye, then turned away, giving you the impression that he wasn’t all that bothered by it.

In truth, Anders didn’t want to appear to have been affected by Michele’s insults or whatever was going on with you.

Once Michele had steered you out the back door to the deck, Anders leaned against the kitchen counter and stared into space as he contemplated the situation.

He knew you too well to think that your comment about feeling wanted was in any way a jab at him. It had been too off-the-cuff and honest; almost like you’d forgotten he would hear it, or that he might view it through the context of your weird confession weeks earlier.

He had been avoiding you, secretly grateful for your absence the last few get-togethers, unsure how you would behave around him. Lovesick mortals were an annoyance, but one Bragi had easily handled many times. A goddess, though; that was more complicated.

Seeing you here had made him realize how much he’d missed being around you. If anything, he was a bit hurt that you were acting almost like that conversation had never happened. You’d seemed so torn up about it, looking at him like you were hurt… and now you were barely looking at him at all.

For all he knew, you’d already moved on. That thought probably should have comforted him, but it was worse, somehow, than someone not having loved him in the first place.

He chugged the rest of his beer, then walked off to find one of his brothers.

If you were going to pretend like nothing had happened, he could too.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, the smell of the backyard fire distracting your mind until Ingrid’s firm grip on your hands grounded you.

You were seated cross-legged before her, sitting on a blanket she’d stolen from the house and wrapped in a second one, Michele standing over you both, refusing to join you in your lowly seats.

Ingrid let out a long hum, then let go of your hands to start rubbing some crystals together.

“Alright, you can open your eyes,” she advised.

You did so to see her peering at you suspiciously.

She reached out, seemingly plucking at the air around you. “You’ve got so much… buzzing. Your mind must be a nightmare right now.”

She let out a small laugh, but when you simply pursed your lips, she offered you a pitying expression, holding her hand on her heart. “Oh, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

You shrugged. “No, you’re right. I’m- having a bit of a hard go of it. But- it’s fine. She’ll be right.”

“Well not to worry.” Ingrid put her hand on yours. “We’ll get you sorted.”

Michele kept quiet as she observed, though she had little faith in most of Ingrid’s intuitive fluff despite her status as an oracle. Instead she smiled and sipped at her beer, happy to see you distracted by something other than Anders. She had noticed the way you couldn’t make eye contact with him, quite abnormal given how chummy you usually were with him. She wanted to encourage that distance; give you a chance to move on.

“You just sit there and I’ll see what comes up.”

You watched as Ingrid shuffled a deck of oracle cards that you’d seen her use a handful of other times, wondering if she could actually help you with them.

Unless they can erase memories, I already made an ass of myself…

You wondered what Anders thought of seeing you flirt with the students at the party. It probably seemed pretty pitiful. It occurred to you only then that he might have thought you were doing it to make him jealous, and you felt your stomach turn.

He must think I’m proper pathetic.

Ingrid let out a low hum, an overly serious look on her face as she stared down at the five cards that she’d laid out between you.

“That bad, eh?” you lamented.

“There’s something you don’t see clearly, or… There’s something… you think-” She shut her eyes to try to put words to the overall message being conveyed. “You think it’s one way, but it’s not. You follow the path before you, but later you’ll realize it wasn’t what you thought. It’s all spilled milk and confusion…” She opened her eyes to squint at you. “Or sabotage?”

“Well that’s fucking cheery, Ingrid,” Michele lamented.

“Oh- no! It’s good, though. A warning, that things aren’t as they seem, for better or worse. So be careful.” She reached around you again, carding her fingers through the space around you in an attempt to clear your aura. “There’s something pulling the wool over your eyes.”

You finished off the beer Anders had handed you earlier, then sighed. “I reckon I know what it is.”

“Here.” Ingrid pressed one of her smooth stones into your palm. “Take this to strengthen your intuition and inner wisdom.”

“Ta.” You looked down at the translucent purple stone, touched by Ingrid’s sincerity.

Anders walked down the hall after a conversation with Olaf and Ty in Zeb’s bedroom, stopping where it opened to the living space to scan the crowd.

It took him a moment to spot you, holding a nearly empty bottle and chatting up yet another loser friend of Axl’s now in the corner of the kitchen.

You looked munted, your eyelids heavier than usual as you smiled almost-vacantly at the bland mortal before you. Your new friend, on the other hand, was practically fucking you with his eyes, clearly chuffed to have your attention.

Before he could question why he felt the need to interrupt it, Anders walked over and greeted you by name, pointedly ignoring the guy you were trying to talk to.

Your dazed expression morphed into a dumb grin. “Anders! Hi, Anders.” You reached out to grip his forearm, grateful for the extra support to keep you on your feet. Shouldn’t have worn heels, you thought.

Anders snickered at your reaction to him. He spoke to you with amused patronization as he steadied you with both hands. “Yeah, hi again. You having a good time?”

You shut your eyes to nod, the plastered smile not leaving your face as he gently held you in place. “Mhm.”

“Don’t think maybe you’ve had a bit too much to drink?” “I barely had three beer.”

Anders frowned. You weren’t that much of a light-weight. He’d seen you drink several times that amount and not act this out of sorts.

The other guy put his hand on Anders’s shoulder. “Hey, we were talking here-”

“Piss off.” Anders glared up at the younger man, watching as the power of Bragi’s words washed over him. The other man blinked and walked off, leaving you alone in the corner.

Anders tilted his head as he turned his attention back to you. “You partake in something else then?” “No.” “Are you sure? You’re not feeling unwell?”

You tried to consider the question seriously, but as you closed your eyes to concentrate, you felt a pleasant sleepiness fogging your brain.

“I’m a bit tired,” you answered at last. “Yeah?”

“I’ve become an old lady.” You whined and stepped forward to rest your face on his shoulder.

You wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed now, but you didn’t have the wits to get yourself there.

“No, I don’t think that’s the issue.”

Anders held you up, frowning as he mentally eliminated other explanations for your behaviour, eventually convincing himself that all signs pointed to you having been drugged. He looked around for the guy who had been talking to you, but didn’t see him anymore.

He tucked his lower lip under his teeth. You needed to rest. “Maybe we should call it a night, eh?”

You hummed in mild agreement, smiling against his suit jacket as you enjoyed the scent of his cologne and the feeling of his arms supporting you.

Before the two of you could make a break for it, though, Mike approached and tapped Anders’s shoulder.

They shared a tense glance, Mike looking you over and clearly questioning what was going on before deciding not to comment on the fact that you were in an intimate position. None of my business, he decided.

“Family meeting. Axl’s room. Now.”

Anders pursed his lips, nostrils flaring, but nodded. No sense arguing, but he didn’t want to leave you unattended in this state, either.

As Mike walked off, Anders spotted Zeb coming into the kitchen to grab another beer.

“Hey, you.”

Zeb raised a brow, pausing with his fingers on the pull tab of his beer. “Me?”

“Got a job for you.”

Anders stepped over, expression stern despite the compliant attention Zeb was giving him. He pointed at you and slipped his voice into his low, echoing Bragi tones, making Zeb’s head fuzzy.

“You stay with her until I say so. There is nothing more important than making sure nothing bad happens to her tonight. Understood?”

Zeb blinked slowly, but nodded. As the dominating pressure lifted, he eased and turned his attention to you. “Fancy a drink?”

“She’s had enough,” Anders called, already walking toward the hall to join his brothers.

It took nearly two hours for the Johnsons to wrap up their crisis, meaning that by the time Anders returned to the flat with Axl, the party had died out. They stepped into the quiet house, and Anders frowned to see most of the lights were out.

“She probably went home,” Axl muttered. Anders had told him he planned to give you a lift home after seeing how munted you’d gotten, but Axl found it hard to believe you were that pissed given how often the three of you went out on the town together. “Or- not.”

They found you asleep under a blanket on the couch, your head in Zeb’s lap as he watched an old kaiju movie.

Zeb flashed Axl an easy smile. “Ah, you’re back.”

Axl rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Bit of a wild night.”

“I await your tale in the morning my lord. For now I’d like to be relieved so I can catch some zeds.”

Anders nodded and stepped over. “Alright, rise and shine.”

It took a bit of coaxing from Zeb before you blinked awake, yawning as your eyes focused enough to take in Anders and Axl standing in the room with you.

“I fell asleep,” you murmured, disoriented.

“Yeah, you did-” Anders grabbed your hands to help pull you off the couch. “Come with me. I’ll get you home.”

You nodded, leaning into him a bit as he started guiding you toward the hallway. “Mm, kay.”

Axl stifled his laugh, amused by how out of it you were, and happy to see you and Anders getting along just fine.

“See ya.” “Night.”

“Bye Axl, bye Zeb,” you managed.

Zeb stood beside Axl and waved as you and Anders left out the front door.

He turned to look up at Axl. “Your brother did that Bragi thing on me again.”

Axl winced. “Sorry…” he croaked.

Meanwhile, Anders was struggling to get you to his car - not because you weren’t being compliant, but because you couldn’t seem to keep your eyes open to watch where you were going.

He had to hold you up as you ambled beside him, clinging to his jacket and leaning into him.

“I’m so tired.” “And you can sleep when you’re home. Just- gotta get- to the car.”

You made a happy humming noise. “You’re so nice, Anders.”

“That’s not what you usually say.”

You let out a sleepy laugh.

He propped you against the side of the vehicle to get the door open, and when he moved to help you inside, he froze when you put your hands on his cheeks.

“Everyone thinks you’re rude when you’re being funny, but you’re really a good man.”

He swallowed, unsure how seriously to take a comment like that, given your condition. Your voice and expression were full of genuine affection, and he caught the way your eyes trained down to his lips.

“You’re wonderful,” you continued.

He kept his face neutral, hands off you. “Get in the car, goddess.”

You gave a hum of easy assent, and he stood immobile as you got yourself into the seat and fumbled with the seatbelt.

He shut the door and made his way around the back of the vehicle, wiping his hand over his mouth roughly. What am I supposed to say to that?

A while later Anders laid back against his pillow and rubbed his eyes roughly. He blinked up at the ceiling, shoving one arm behind his head, assessing the night’s events.

This wasn’t exactly what he’d imagined when he’d tossed around the idea of taking you to bed.

He glanced to his right, the sight of you completely passed out a mild solace to the anger he felt in his gut. Someone had drugged you, and he didn’t know who.

Someone connected to Axl, it seemed, which was going to upset his brother, of course. Moreover, a mortal had wronged a goddess, which he knew would piss off Michele, and he had half a mind to tell her if it meant retribution on the fucker. Mike could probably find them right away, if he asked.

Anders wasn’t a fan of date rape in general, but he’d be lying to himself if he couldn’t admit that it happening to his friend was really what was pissing him off. If someone had done the same thing to Dawn, he’d react just as strongly… Right?

Well, that was his working theory, anyway. Despite entertaining the idea of bedding since your last chat, it wasn’t like he thought of you the way he thought of the chicks he usually had fun with.

He saw you as important somehow. Worthy of respect and protection. That meant you were some other category of woman. Dawn was the closest he could match that feeling up with, so that must put you back into the realm of ‘friend’.

But you don’t fuck friends.

Chicks weren’t usually into that sort of thing, and based on what he knew of you, you were more of the boyfriend sort than the quick root sort most of the time. Maybe if that last guy hadn’t been such a jafa, you wouldn’t have even fallen for Anders, and then none of this would be on the table, and he wouldn’t have to question how he felt about all of it.

He watched you wince and groan in your sleep, wondering what sort of dream you were having.

“Shh, you’re safe as houses,” he murmured, not noticing his own Bragi tones as he reached out. He pulled the covers higher up your body until you were tucked in securely.

Why did you have to tell me?

If you didn’t want him, why say that you loved him? Was it better to know, or not know?

He huffed and rolled over to face away from you, a heavy feeling in his chest he couldn’t name.

---

You woke the next morning, blinking to clear your confusion as you looked around the strange bedroom you found yourself alone in. Sitting up, it seemed vaguely familiar, but you couldn’t place it.

Did I hook up with someone…?

Then you registered a familiar scent, and suddenly you remembered when you’d been in the room before.

Months earlier, you’d met up with Anders and Axl at Anders’s flat before a night out, only to have Anders send you into his bedroom to grab something he’d forgotten.

Why am I in Anders’s bed?

You looked yourself over, heart racing, but you were fully clothed in what you’d worn the night before - jewelry and all.

You slowly got up, adjusting your clothes to look as presentable as they could after being slept in. Something didn’t feel right, though, and you reached into your bra to find a small purple stone had been pressed inside, the memory of Ingrid handing it to you flashing vaguely through your mind.

You put it back in place, then walked cautiously out into the living area, relieved when you saw Anders sitting at his dining table having a coffee.

He looked up attentively. “Ah, you’re up! How you feeling?”

You hugged yourself, stopping beside his kitchen island. “Confused, mostly. Why am I at your flat?”

“You weren’t feeling well at the party. Tried to take you home, but you couldn’t tell me where that was.”

You frowned. You couldn’t remember much after getting to the party. You’d had a few drinks and tried to be friendly to Axl’s friends, but then… “It’s a bit of a blur, to be honest,” you murmured, rubbing your temple.

“I think you might have been drugged.”

You looked up to see Anders with a strange expression on his face. There were hints of anger in his tense features, but his eyes met yours with concern.

Something pulling the wool over my eyes, eh?

“You should eat something, drink some water.”

“Uh- sure. Ta.” You turned and grabbed a glass from his dish rack to fill at the sink. “If I was drugged then..-”

“Nothing happened to you, don’t worry. Zeb was with you, then me. Safe as houses.”

Zeb, right. You had a hazy memory of laying in his lap. You knew him too well to think he’d drug you, so it must have been one of Axl’s other mortal friends that you’d been availing yourself to all night.

“I’ll have to thank him.” “Mm.” “And- Thanks to you, too, Anders. Sorry I’ve been causing you so much trouble lately.” “No trouble.”

“Mm, you say that, but…” You rolled your eyes, thinking it was awfully pathetic to need his help after how awkward everything had gotten. “You really didn’t have to go to all the fuss of putting me up.”

“What was I supposed to do? Leave you with those dickheads at the party? Despite what Mike thinks, I do actually believe in fun being consensual.”

You shrugged. “It just- wasn’t really your problem, that’s all.” “Codswallop.”

You raised a brow.

Anders glared back at you with offense. “I may not be your boyfriend, but if you think I’d just sit back while something happened to you, you’re wrong. I’m not a monster.”

“Sorry.” You looked down.

You’d never thought he was one, but it felt pathetic to be getting his help when you felt the way you did about him and knew he didn’t reciprocate.

He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised that you were still acting a bit strange around him, but it hurt him a bit to think you didn’t want him looking out for you.

Weren’t you… friends? It occurred to him that he didn’t have many of those. Maybe he’d misjudged it.

“I wasn’t trying to imply…” You took a deep breath and glanced up at him as you put down your glass. “I’m gonna head home.”

He got up and followed you toward the door. “Are you sure you’ll be right? I can give you a lift.”

You gestured dismissively as you stepped into your shoes. “No worries. I don’t live far.”

You caught the way his brows slightly raised. “Oh. Good.”

You hesitated in the doorway, then met his gaze, voice earnest. “Thank you for looking after me.” “Of course.”

You turned to leave, but he put his hand on your forearm.

“Hey-”

When your eyes met his, you read a vulnerability in them that you weren’t used to, his furrowed brow making you worry.

“We’re friends, right?”

You felt the knot in your stomach ease, reassured that he still wanted a connection to you despite your pointless confession.

You offered him a genuine smile, shoulders relaxing. “Always.”

Of course a friend would step in in a situation like this. If he still saw you that way, then maybe you could go back to seeing him that way, too.

He couldn’t help but return your smile as he let go of you, then stood watching you for a beat as you walked down the hall before he shut the door to his flat.

He was relieved at your confirmation - of something he’d never had to put into words before - and hoped it meant that things could eventually go back to normal between you; that you’d stop acting so uncomfortable around him.

He emptied your water glass into the sink and huffed.

The idea that one of Axl’s idiot friends had drugged a goddess still wasn’t sitting well with him, so he grabbed his keys and put on some shoes to go get to the bottom of it.

I’ll figure out which dickhead it was, and then Bragi can have a little chat with him.

Anders had spent the morning dealing to the mortal who’d wronged his friend, feeling quite noble about his use of his powers for once.

That afternoon he sat at his desk, staring into space as he ran his thumb over his lower lip.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you.

The tortuously sexy dress you’d worn to flirt with Axl’s idiot friends. The way your face had lit up to see him while you were drugged. The relief he had felt to see you safe and asleep in his bed. Your saccharine smile when you’d affirmed that you’d always be friends. And the heartbroken, apologetic way you’d told him that you’d fallen for him.

It wasn’t fair, he thought, that you’d put the idea in his head like that. To make him question what it might be like to be really loved by you, when you’d rejected him in the same breath.

How can you want me and not want me at the same time? Am I not good enough?

He held his head in his hands and let out a long sigh.

“Anders, are you alright?”

“The most beautiful goddess in Auckland is in love with me, of course I’m not alright.” “What?” “What?”

Anders looked up in concern, but Dawn gave him a look he couldn’t interpret, tilting her head.

“Someone’s in love with you?” “No.” He shook his head. “Nevermind.” “Are you sure…?”

He scowled. “You know, it’s not a good look to be nosy.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, don’t tell me. I’m sure I don’t want to know anyway.” She tossed the folder she was holding onto his desk. “Here are the reports you asked for.”

“Thank you, Dawn!” He opened the folder and enthusiastically started looking through them, grateful for the distraction.

“Thank god,” he murmured.

Part 3 here

A/N: Thanks for reading this, if you did! I feel like I haven't been finishing as many WIPs as I'd like, but I'm determined to keep this story to the current outline so hopefully it won't grow like Lofn did (I'm close to the next chapter of that being ready, too, I promise it's in the works!) and you'll get the rest of it shortly. Special thanks to @laurfilijames for putting up with my ramblings about this fic idea since its inception.

Tags: @the-poldarkian @i-did-not-mean-to @the-butterfly-blues @laurfilijames @midearthwritings @feeweeeee @ichoosechoasandbeingqueer @missihart23 @spngingerbread21

As always if you'd like to be added or removed from tagging (for a specific character/fandom/everything) just let me know any time!

#deanobingo2023 #the almighty johnsons fanfiction #the almighty johnsons #anders johnson #anders johnson fanfic #anders johnson x reader #anders johnson x female reader #anders johnson x goddess reader

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one-strugling-bean · 7 months

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OFMD Random Commentary (Ep 10)

We have reached the end it seems - Let's make it count

Omg, of course, she's doing better by herself; I'm happy for her

I really feel bad for Mary, now

I really hope that orange survives until the show ends. Like, last scene of the show, Stede is writing some random letter in his study before going off to his wedding with Ed or something, and the orange is right there, as a paperweight, on his desk

Yeahhhhh the kids wouldn't be too happy with you - for good reason. You're a deadbeat, man

Huhm, I'm sure Ed's doing just fine, of course

When did Jim get back on the boat, what??

Jesus, okay, go for it guys

I am so proud of Mary, honestly

He's wearing Stede's robe, stooooop-

Lucius is everyone's therapist isn't he

Nononono, why are you going up to peak??

Ah, Mary's kind of explosion felt so good to hear. She's completely right, u go girl

They had a showing for Ed's lyrics, this crew is amazing

They're all so supportive, ahhhh, it makes me so happy

Mary, girl, just ask him to go away again, he probably will, it's easier

I enjoyed Jeffrey, he seemed nice

Jeez, Stede, way to damper the mood

Does Izzy have a crush on Ed? Or, well, Blackbeard? Why have I only thought of this now?

I'm gonna guess that by the end of the episode, Stede is gonna go back to sea - planning to find Ed and his crew

Why is he messing this up for her? Why why why, let her have her evening, man!

Ahhhhhh Stede, what are you doinggggggg

"I forgive you by the way-" Oh shut up Stede, you're making me mad now

I love Mary so much, you don't understand, in one episode she became top 5 for me

"I don't fit here anymore, do I?" No honey, you don't. Probably never did. It's just more obvious now

Oh, this scene makes me happy..... That hug made me so fucking happy, you don't understand....

Oof, meanwhile Ed is learning to let go...

Nonono, he can't be dead

Wtf wtf wtf wtf WTF Lucius!!!!!!!

I didn't mean that kind of letting go!!

He has a whittler partner to get back to!!!

And the books!!! All that literature!!!

Meanwhile, Stede is just, Stede-ing back home. Clueless to the chaos and destruction happening in his absence. Marvelous.

They're leaving them....? To die...? What the fuck

The orange metaphor was cute ngl. I'm glad the kids got some sort of closure at least

So they took Jim and Frenchie and left the rest. That's- that's- that's not right........

Omg, it had to be double death of course

No wait- triple death

Mary is amazing, I like her a lot. Don't think I've said that enough.

God, I'm so worried about everyone else though...

Lucius can't have died... right...?

Stede found them!!! Omg, I'm so happy Stede found them.......... I hope he has food in that boat

Aaaand roll credits..... just like that

I feel emotionally betrayed. How dare this show

Uhhhhhh, I'll do one last post after this. More collectedly, explaining some of my thoughts on the show. So uhh, stick around if you care about that, maybe?

#ofmd #our flag means death #btw in case this is your first post and you want to find the reactions to the other eps theyre all in the following tag #ofmd random commentary #this show was cruel at the end #the bitch #stede bonnet #edward blackbeard #gentlebeard #blackbonnet

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novaazurite · 2 months

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TPOT 10 was awesome! (Rambling time!)

me talking about spoilers!! So be warned!

Book redemption arc? I noticed Ice Cube looked at her with Price Tag, is she gonna give Book another chance? I kind of hope so, they were always next to each other in BFDIA, close even, I kind want to see them interact again ngl, idk just a me thing I thought their interactions in bfdia were nice I suppose.

Other than that, id love to see more Book and Price Tag interactions in the future!!! I have a good feeling they would get along with Book more and I hope to see more!

The Winner/Clock arc finally has some closure, and im glad they are both on better terms with one another again! Honestly I kind of think Loser was insensitive for what he did to Winner, they didnt really want to be apart of that movie thing but Loser did it anyways, they didnt want to be forgotten and Loser was their closest friend. Clock kind of felt the same way when he didnt want to be forgotten but nobody recovered him in BFB for a good while.

Also Four and X concidered Clock as their friend that is so cute,,,

Pillow development real too, I dont like her that much because of TPOT 9, but TPOT 10 made me like her a little bit, at least its SOME progress despite not being much.

I did not even know Black Hole could dream, felt weird since he doesnt sleep, but damn Fanny was genuinely scared of him because of that, waiter waiter! More Fanny development please!! Also nice to see Tree again as well, himself, even despite it being in a dream. Black Hole was crazy as fuck in this episode.

I wonder if TSTOE is gonna actually fix Robot Flower....

Theres so much I can go on and on about TPOT 10 in this post but im gonna end it here.

#object show community #osc community #bfdi #battlefordreamisland #novaazurite rambles abt bs #thepoweroftwo #the power of two #tpot spoilers #Tpot #battle for dream island

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bleuangel88 · 8 months

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On Dylan Shakes

We have one major mystery down!

While many of us probably suspected that Dylan Shakes was alive and that he had gotten away from his father's abuse, it was lovely to have that confirmation during Harlan Coben's Shelter Season 1 Episode 6.

It was also so touching to have that reunion between Dylan and Mrs. Friedman.

The reveal that Sunglasses Man was Dylan Shakes tied up one of many threads in this series.

Dylan definitely knew how much his absence affected Mrs. Friedman, who wanted to adopt him. I wish he had given her some closure much sooner. She deserved that rather than death threats.

With the number of mysteries that this series drops at us rapidly, it's nice to have a clear-cut answer for at least one of them and bits and pieces of things coming together for some others.

Shelter has been a blast to watch because the characters and cast are so much fun that you'll watch them do anything.

And we have, whether or not we could follow along with whatever they're doing or not.

I could watch a whole series of just Mickey Bolitar, Ema, and Spoon being regular teenagers who aren't trying to serve as a Gen Z Scooby-Doo.

On Whitney

Whitney hurt Ema beyond forgiveness, in my book. She knows how her brother is, and it doesn't matter if he blackmailed her. He'll always have that information on his sister and will do whatever he pleases with the second she stands up to him.

She'd do better owning up to what she did before he could release it so she could be free of him.It's such a shallow, self-absorbed issue on Whitney's part that she sold Ema, a girl she genuinely seems to like, out over some followers controversy on an app.

It's such childish dumb stuff, yet for teenagers, it's their entire world, so as frustrating as this development is, I can't even say it's unrealistic.Maybe Ema will be able to forgive Whitney, and maybe not. They were an endearing potential couple.

But it's hard to get past something like that, especially when Ema has learned that there are peers of hers who have more backbone and can do what's right.

She has Spoon and Mickey Bolitar as best friends, so it's hard not to have a certain level of expectation for future relationships, platonic, romantic, or otherwise.

Maybe she and Whitney will end up like Shira and Hannah.

On Hannah, Ken, Shira

But Hannah Taylor has gotten a new lease on life from the second Shira came back into town. It was like she needed Shira to free herself.

On the one hand, that's endearing as far as their love story goes and how much Hannah loves Shira, but on the other hand, that puts a lot on Shira.

There is no way this plays out where Shira doesn't feel like she's the reason a family is splitting up and Hannah is doing all these things.

Hannah can't do all the things she desires because of Shira. She should be willing to do these things for herself.

And Shira is placed in the middle of this marriage in many uncomfortable ways. Ken seeking Shira's advice at the memorial was awkward.

He thinks there is an avenue for him to get his wife back because he spent years not even knowing that she was unhappy.

He may mean everything he says, and he'll try to make improvements moving forward, but it's too late, and as terrible as Ken is as a husband, he also doesn't deserve to get blindsided without even a chance to know how to make things better.

It sucks that they got this far into their marriage without resolving their issues. This sets things up where if he learns the truth about Hannah and Shira, he'll think about Shira breaking up his marriage or Hannah deceiving him and not thinking about his role in their marriage dissolution.

Hell, chances are he'll probably wonder if Hannah ever actually loved him or even Shira back in high school. When you think about it, what stops Ken from feeling like he was a glorified beard for 25 years?

Did Hannah ever love Ken Taylor at all? Or did she love having this piece of Shira? And that goes for Ken, too.

But Shira's issues are apparent. Initially, it felt like Shira would be the one set up for hurt, and there's a chance that remains the case. But there's also a matter of Hannah getting hit worse.

She's ready to blow up her life that wasn't making her happy anymore and start anew with Shira, and the prospect of that seems to terrify Shira and has her ready to shut down.

It's a challenging situation, and Shira seems more afraid of its fallout than Hannah, which could influence her position and why she's pushing Hannah away right now.Ultimately, they deserve to be happy, preferably together, with the truth out in the open, consequences be damned.

#tv fanatic #harlan coben's shelter

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uriekukistan · 2 months

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mutsurie…… and my boy aura……..

for mutsurie :3

when i started shipping it: literally on my first watch during the auction…it makes so much sense idk

my thoughts: when the two emotionally damaged characters who dont trust anyone enough to get close to them trust each other enough to get close 😖 also the fact that urie recognized that mutsuki was afab during the auction and he literally never said anything about it he was just kinda “oh okay” and never treated mutsuki any differently…it’s interesting because mutsuki really idolized sasaki for that same thing but never realized urie did the same thing for him…idk much to think about with that one

what makes me happy about them: see past comment, also they both care for each other unconditionally and i think they both need that because they both kinda care for themselves conditionally if that makes sense.

what makes me sad about them: okay maybe im too angsty rn but i dont think they have a happy ending together, or at least not for a while. like i said, they care for each other unconditionally but care for themselves conditionally, and i think before they can truly be happy together they need time apart to care for themselves…

things done in fanfic that annoys me: when they make mutsuki super emotionally and physically weak so he relies on big strong man in control of his emotions urie to put him back together…like it sometimes feels like its putting mutsuki in this traditionally feminine damsel in distress position and thats kinda ehhhh…also bold of you to assume urie is in control of his emotions or that mutsuki isnt strong or capable.

things i look for in a fanfic: im starving for content so the bar is pretty low….good spelling and grammar is nice :D

who i’d be comfortable with them ending up with, if not each other: i think they’d be better alone if not together…i’ve seem mutsaura floating around recently and while im intrigued i do think it has toxic potential which is interesting to read and think about, but i just want them to be happy 😞 healthy relationships only for my pookies

my happily ever after: they take some time apart like at the end of re where mutsuki is not even in tokyo and they learn their own value as individuals (ideally separate from their jobs) and then they reconnect after that…not that i’m saying you “have to love yourself to love someone else” and i dont think in their time apart they wouldnt still love each other, i just want them to have a happy healthy relationship 😞

who is the big spoon/little spoon: at the beginning urie is definitely big spoon and mutsuki is little spoon, but when they get more comfortable, they switch around sometimes. i think urie really likes being the little spoon…not that he would admit it

what is their favorite non-sexual activity: parallel play, like just comfortable silence and mutsuki’s reading while urie’s painting or something

tbh i dont think that much abt aura so i’ll try my best 😭🙏

how i feel about this character: i like how much i…don’t like him if that makes sense? his decisions irritate me but also they are indicative of how complex he is. interesting guy.

all the people i ship romantically with this character: as aforementioned i have seen mutsaura floating around and i have definitely found it intriguing…may i also propose him with higemaru? they kinda give that opposites black cat golden retriever couple vibe idk maybe im crazy

my non-romantic otp for this character: from the scene where he and mutsuki are trying to intercept touka and miza from extracting kaneki from the dragon, i really liked his interactions with higemaru and hsiao so i like the idea of them as like a besties group idk

my unpopular opinion about this character: im not sure i have one? idk

one thing i wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon: for him to get closure from his aunt that she was okay with working with the ghouls for peace. i know he was told about it by…hsiao i think maybe it was higemaru, but it would have been nice to see him hear it from his aunt. i think he kinda needed it.

my otp: i dont think i really have one 😞

my crossover ship: again i dont really have one, but i can definitely draw parallels between him and geto from jjk…in that they both were so bothered by some tragedy that they both started to walk a very dark path. the difference being that aura’s friends were there to turn him around and (idk if you have or are planning to watch/read jjk but spoiler warning for s2 ep1-6 and jjk0) geto’s friends trusted him so much that when he said he was okay, they believed him and yeah…cutting myself off before i get too far

^could also be the long dark hair and emo vibes that makes me associate aura with geto

a headcanon fact: aura the type of guy to give scary vibes but talk to stray cats in a baby voice on the street…you see a scary man in the alley and you’re about to run away but then you hear “who’s a good kitty? you are! yes you are aweee what a cute baby” that’s him

#tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul :re #tgre #quinx squad #urie kuki #tooru mutsuki #shinsanpei aura

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moonjxsung · 2 months

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STAR IM DEVASTATED so i have a priv twt acc right w some irls and this stay from stayville req-ed me a long time ago and i was soooo happy that i was mutuals w someone from stayville and i THOUGHT everything between us was cool? but today they unfollowed me and removed me as a follower and im devastated i dunno why they did that :((( i don't think they had a problem w me saying nsfw stuff cuz they previously tweeted things like "cancelling someone over saying smth nsfw abt an adult is stupid" and also ive seen them interact w nsfw minsung posts so i dunno if me tweeting smth like "i wanna suck flxs cock sooooo bad" couldve made them wanna break the mutual??? i dmed them too and i was like "heyy is there a reason you don't wanna be moots w me anymore </3" and not even minutes later they turned off their message perms and im devastated. its STUPID bcs they'd barely interact w me Sure but it felt nice to have a stay be my friend on my priv twt that's usually just for my irls and i </3 it's ironic that they did that too bcs just earlier today (before they broke the mutual) i noticed that my followers went down (i have a very low amt already. like. 25. not even joking) and i tweeted "yall dont wanan be friends w me anymore </3" bcs like. my followers are QUITE LITERALLY only my irls + a skz writer so i was (i think rightfully??) alarmed that the number went down!!!! man im just Sad about it and SIIIGH i know i shouldnt care so much bcs at the end of the day they're just a person online but the least they could've done was dm me back and explain why and GHFSDDSJHFKJADDSDSAAAAA you get me!?!! also im sorry i dropped this on you randomly feel free to ignore LMAAOOAOAO can i be 💫 anon? thank yew <3

(Adding 💫 to the anon list!!! Also fun fact that’s my favorite emoji of all time. Slay)

I feel like I’m the LAST person who should be giving advice abt this bc one of my mutuals and a very good friend of mine who I’d been talking to every day randomly blocked me on everything this week after me literally being there to console this person for every little thing and playing into this pretend homoerotic friendship we had even though she was clearly looking for another boyfriend and would get mad if I even called another girl pretty (???) I wish nothing but the absolute best for her but like…. The double standard is WILD. to not provide closure to a months-long friendship is just genuinely a very mean spirited thing to do imo.

(If she’s reading this, best of luck with everything and I hope you know I cared for you a lot more than you think I did. I distanced myself because you were clearly looking for someone to fill a void in your life that I could simply not fulfill, and I didn’t want to lead you on, nor be kept around like I wasn’t allowed to talk to other girls either. Regardless, I hope you know I used to sleep with my phone on full volume in case you called, and I deleted a page worth of poetry in my notes app for you I meant to deliver on your birthday. I also deleted your number so I have zero way of contacting you, but I will always be here if you need me. Take care and I love you always, I hope you still see me when you look up at the moon)

It’s not the first time I’ve lost an internet friend to the magical world of blocking, but fortunately the attitude I’ve developed towards it is that none of this is real!!! These are people on the internet miles away you’ve never met irl and they have no real impact in your life whether they remain following you or not. I’ve lost internet friends nearly a decade ago that I don’t even remember anymore. Better ones will come along!!! Especially stays! This fandom has so many beautiful remarkable people who are actually worth following and they wouldn’t cut you off like that. Sending so many positive vibes your way and I KNOW that the universe will send you some better mutuals. In the meanwhile I will be your internet bestie and I would never unfollow you for nsfw content or without some form of an explanation. And I also want to suck Felix’s dick. 🩷🫶

(I love you, don’t be so hard on yourself!!!! You’re wonderful, angel 🩷 anyone would be lucky to be moots with you)

#💫 anon #ask

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harlowcomehome · 2 years

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“Divorced and happy.” PART THREE

A/N: Part one here. Part two here.

To say that, that conversation was devastating would be an understatement. You hardly remember the drive home, you just assumed it was awkward. You couldn’t begin to imagine how Adam felt, you wouldn’t have known how to react if you saw him in the arms of his ex, not only an ex but an ex spouse. Adam drove both you and Vanessa home that night, you don’t remember speaking at all, most of the aftershock was a blur.

You vaguely remembered watching Vanessa enter her home, but after that you were pretty much drawing a blank.

According to Samantha, Adam brought you inside and put you in bed, he let her know what happened that night. You cringed at the thought of him having to recall what he saw, you truthfully didn’t know what part of the conversation he even caught.

Understandably so, Adam decided to give you some space for the time being. Texting you ever so often to see if you needed anything, and occasionally bringing you something to eat but he usually didn’t stick around, which was good because you didn’t really want him to. Although, you were grateful a huge part of you was embarrassed.

The next few days or so were spent on your couch sulking when Reyna was at preschool. Nobody ever truly thought that Jack would come around, and you held your breath hoping that one day that he would, but he had some pretty terrible timing. You were frustrated because now it just felt calculated and a little too late.

It was the middle of the week now, you had just dropped Reyna off at preschool when you walked back into your apartment and saw Samantha standing there with a big grin and her keys in her hand.

“No Sam!” You groaned as you headed back to the couch. “You need to leave the house Y/N” she begged “or at least talk about how you’re feeling, come on! You’ve hardly said anything to me and it’s been days.”

“What else is there to say?” You shrugged trying your best to keep your composure.

“You know I know you better than anyone right?” she sat down next to you shooting you a look.

You wiped a tear that escaped you as you looked away from her.

“You also can’t keep avoiding Adam” she confessed and you knew in your gut that she was right.

“ I just don’t even know how to explain what happened. I mean did anything even really happen? Jack didn’t really say anything to me but I knew what he was trying to say…”you trailed off stopping yourself from getting emotional.

“You can cry Y/N, I’ve literally seen you go through everything especially with Jack. You don’t need to hold back” Samantha looked at you and you forced a smile back.

“I’m just so tired of crying over him” your voice shook. “ I’ve spent the last couple years of my life crying over him. I’m exhausted. I’m frustrated because he doesn’t get to decide to ask me those questions now. I’ve met a really good guy, I mean sure he can be a little boring but boring is okay sometimes right?“

Samantha laughed at your realization “Adam is a really nice guy though Y/N….”

You looked over at her and held back a laugh as she nodded “but yes, he’s a little bland.”

You looked at her with wide eyes “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME THAT SOONER?”

Samantha laughed, before being silent for a moment, which surprised you, she was never one to be left speechless, so you looked at her confused.

“ I wouldn’t usually say this, but I feel like you owe it to yourself to hear what he has to say.”

You looked at her and felt her forehead, she looked at you weird for a moment.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure you don’t have a fever or something, because that’s the craziest shit you’ve ever said.”

She laughed “I feel like you need that closure conversation, and maybe you’d feel better.”

You nodded, sitting on the couch still deep in thought.

“Get ready, let’s go somewhere” Samantha tapped your leg so you’d stand up and you nodded, knowing you probably did need to get out of the house.

She wouldn’t tell you where you were going initially but once you started the drive you realized she was taking you to the lake you used to go to together all the time when you were pregnant with Reyna and a lot after she was born. “Remember this is the venting lake?” She laughed and you nodded “yeah, we haven’t been here in so long.”

You both got out of the car and sat on her hood, shortly after you were there for a while you noticed she was distracted by her phone. Before you could ask who she was texting a familiar car pulled up.

You went into a slight panic, Samantha noticed right away assuring you it was only Urban that was coming.

When he walked over to Samantha and gave her a kiss, you practically screamed.

“What the fuck?” The two of them looked at your expression and laughed.

“How long has this been going on?” You got off the hood of the car, staring at the both of them.

“Maybe a month?” Samantha laughed awkwardly, she wasn’t usually one to keep things from you.

“A MONTH?” You slapped her arm and laughed “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK??”

You had always known that Samantha and Urban had a chemistry but the entire time you and Jack were together they were both never single at the same time, so a part of you was surprised and the other part of you was relieved.

Urban laughed “ We didn’t want to tell you until we were sure” he shrugged.

“Is this why you want me to talk to Jack?” You looked at Samantha wide eyed.

Urban looked over at her and then back at you “you told her to talk to him?”

Samantha shrugged “for closure.”

Urban didn’t say anything at all avoiding all eye contact with the both of you making both you and Samantha uneasy “oh god, what’s going on?” You asked hopeful he wouldn’t have much to say.

“He’s not in the best shape” Urban swallowed.

You raised an eyebrow at that “Urban, you can’t tell a half ass story.”

He shook his head “I mean, that’s my best friend. I can’t put him on blast like that.”

“He also cheated on me after I had our child. Do you remember that?” You looked at him knowing just how to make him feel guilty.

“Damn, you don’t fight fair” he shook his head.

“I think Sammie is right, I think now that you’ve both had some days to think about it that you should talk to him” Urban paused when he saw you looking at him holding back a laugh “what?”

“Sammie? You have nicknames?” You giggled.

Urban rolled his eyes “focus!”

“Yes sir” you laughed and he continued “ whether you two like it or not you’re going to have to deal with each other for the rest of Reynas life.”

You nodded “I know that Urb, but what do you expect me to do? ”

“Maybe when he picks Reyna up tomorrow you guys can talk” Samantha smiled, she could tell this conversation was overwhelming you. “Wanna take my car? Urb can take me home later” she smiled holding out her keys to you.

You reached for her keys “Oh you mean Urby? Urby bear?” You teased and they both laughed and you hugged them both goodbye before driving home.

On the way home you thought about the conversation you just had with Samantha and Urban, and also the fact that they were dating for an entire month and kept it a secret was crazy to you.

When you pulled up to your house you saw Adams car outside, which wasn’t all that surprising to you since he had been bringing you lunch ever so often but what you didn’t expect was for him to be visibility upset.

You got out of the car and saw him instantly get out of his, his face was flushed and he was obviously irritable.

“Hey babe” you greeted him and he walked up to you quickly “hi.”

“Where were you? I called you like three times.”

You pulled your phone out of your back pocket and saw three missed calls from Adam and surprisingly one missed call from Jack. You shoved your phone back in your pocket right away.

“I was out, are you okay?” You eyed him up and down noticing now how clearly bothered he was.

“Were you with him?”

“Him?” You gave him a confused look.

“Jack” he looked directly at you, you could sense the sadness in his eyes.

“No of course not, I was out with Samantha and Urban” you were trying your best not to be defensive knowing Adam had every right to be concerned but you definitely didn’t like the way he was approaching you.

“Let’s go inside?” You looked around at your neighborhood and Adam followed you inside.

When you got inside you both had a seat in the living room across from one another, Adam had softened a bit since being outside.

“I’m sorry” he sighed, “we just haven’t talked in a few days and I mean, I still don’t know what happened the other night.”

“I get it” you nodded. “I mean, I just don’t know where to start.” You could feel yourself getting overwhelmed already, but you knew that if the situation was reversed you’d want to know the details too.

“What am I supposed to think? I walked out and saw my girlfriend sobbing in the arms of her ex husband” he shrugged defeated, you could tell he had been stressing over this situation.

Before you could speak he interjected “before you tell me anything, do you want to be with him? ”

You felt slightly hurt that he even had to ask that, but at the same time you had been so brief about your past relationship with Jack that you couldn’t blame him for having so many questions.

“No Adam, I just…” you sighed and started going into the details of what happened the other night. Adam understandably had a lot of questions but asked only one “he cheated on you and thats why you got divorced?”

You nodded “well, it was a mixture of things but yeah I’d say that was pretty much what sealed the deal.”

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?” The look on his face was exactly why but you didn’t want to say that to him, the look of pity on his face sickened you.

“He’s the father of my child, and for that I’ll always have a level of respect for him just as a person” you shrugged “I didn’t want you to view him as some evil person, he’s Reynas dad and we were young” you shrugged again avoiding Adams gaze.

“If you’re old enough to get married and have a kid you’re old enough to know not to cheat on your spouse” Adam laughed, his tone came out sharp and you understood it but at the same time deep down you wanted to defend Jack for some reason.

Instead you just nodded, Adam could tell you were clearly upset by what he said.

“I didn’t mean to offend you Y/N” he walked over to you and held you.

You leaned your head against him “You’re right though.” You sighed looking up at Adam “why did you think I was out with him?”

Adam was embarrassed, his cheeks lit up immediately “ after the other night, and seeing how emotional you were I just got into my own head.”

“I haven’t spoken to him since that night” you assured him.

He looked down at his watch realizing he was going to be late going back to work “do you wanna have dinner tonight if you’re feeling up to it?”

You nodded “sounds good” and walked him to the door, opening it to see Jack pulling up to your house.

“What the fuck” you audibly reacted, feeling like the air had just been knocked out of your lungs.

“Haven’t talked to him since that night huh?” Adam looked annoyed, you realized he thought you were lying.

“I haven’t Adam” you said defensively.

“Why would he show up here knowing Reyna is at school?”

“Your guess is as good as mine” you sighed, slightly irritated at how accusatory Adam was being.

Jack got out of his car not noticing the two of you making your way toward him. The look on his face made it obvious to you that he hadn’t initially realized Adams car was there.

“Hey Reynas school called me, they needed her to bring something for show and tell today and I guess she forgot it.” You knew he was lying, but you appreciated the effort.

“You can’t just show up here without calling” Adam bucked defensively which surprised both you and Jack.

“Well, I called and nobody answered, it also pertains to my child….so” Jack laughed clearly annoy Adam, looking over at you for response.

You shot Adam a look, “I think after what happened the other night he should know better than to just show up here.”

Before you could respond Jack did.

“Do we have an issue?” Jack stepped toward Adam and Adam stepped forward too, it was clear to you neither man was going to back down without you interfering.

“There’s about to be one” Adam stepped forward again, his fists were clenched and that was enough for you. You put a hand between the two of them, Jack looked at the fear in your eyes and stepped back but Adam didn’t.

“ADAM! LEAVE” You raised your voice slightly, standing in front of Jack.

Adam looked at you, embarrassment written all over his face “Nice to know you’ve made your decision. Call me when you change your mind” he scoffed, walking to his car and speeding off.

You didn’t even know how to react to that, you were obviously frustrated by the entire thing.

Jack showing up unannounced was one thing but Adam being aggressive was an entire other thing in itself.

“Can I come in?” Jack sighed, obviously unaware that, that was going to happen.

“You have the best timing” you said sarcastically laughing and he shook his head following you inside “my fault.”

He took a seat on one of your barstool chairs.

“Sorry, I didn’t know he was here. I called you but you didn’t…”

“It’s fine” you interrupted, wanting to cut this conversation short.

“I didn’t know Adam was such a hot head” he smirked and you shook your head, obviously annoyed by that entire interaction. “The way you swooped in there and defended my honor was pretty attractive” he smirked.

“Shut up” you rolled your eyes, holding back a giggle “I didn’t want Reyna to see her dad with a black eye.”

“Is that right?” He laughed before changing the subject. “So Urb and Samantha huh?” He laughed again and you looked at him shocked “did you know before me? I’ll literally die.”

He shook his head “he called me like an hour ago to tell me and that you guys went out to the lake.”

You nodded and he continued “the venting lake” he used air quotes.

“You remember that?” You were genuinely surprised, you never felt like he paid you any attention, especially back then.

“Of course I do” he smiled.

After all this time, his smile was still your favorite thing about him. You hated to admit it but being alone with him still made you feel an overwhelming amount of butterflies.

“I assume you’re not here to talk about Urban and Samantha though right?”

He shook his head, he was never really good with expressing himself, which was ironic to you considering his entire career was based off of him being good with words.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about the other day and I had no right to ask you that question, at least not there. You’re right, my timing sucks” he laughed awkwardly.

You looked at him, reading his sorrow expression knowing this conversation wasn’t going to be an easy one. “I should’ve reacted better, but I just felt like I had no control over myself.

“Thats on me for that” he chewed on his bottom lip nervously, “ I’ve been known to have that effect on you” he sighed.

You nodded knowing it wasn’t the first time he had seen you break down like that, because of something he said or did.

“Jack, I- I really like Adam” you leaned against your kitchen counter directly across from him “well, I liked Adam, I have no idea what the hell is going on with that now” you sighed.

“Thats the thing though” he smiled at you “you’ve never told me that you love Adam. You’ve always told me that you liked him.”

You felt a sense of nervousness overwhelm you, you knew he was right, you’ve never said you loved Adam out loud before, because you weren’t entirely sure that you did.

“Whats your point?” Your natural reaction was to be defensive.

“If you don’t love him yet then maybe there is still time for us” he mumbled.

“Time for us?” He always knew how to make your blood boil. “What brought all of this on? You haven’t given a shit about me for the last few years, you didn’t even fight for me when we were married Jack.”

“That’s not true” he scratched at his beard, a nervous tick you were well aware of, making you smirk at him.

“I’ve always loved you, always. You’re the mother of my child, how could I not?”

“You don’t cheat on the person you love” you sat up now, arms folded across your chest clearly annoyed with the conversation “ you don’t divorce the person you love.”

“I fucked up, a lot, countless amounts of times, I know that” he watched you intently as your body language was defensive “I didn’t appreciate you and I should have. I should’ve taken our marriage seriously and I didn’t but I can’t do anything about that now. I can just show you how I’ve changed.“

You couldn’t help but laugh, passive aggressively of course.

“What’s funny?” He looked at you, an eyebrow raised in annoyance.

“Oh, I’m sorry? Am I not allowed to react? You want to finally show me how you’ve changed? After we’ve been divorced for what almost a year now? You don’t still love me Jack, you just don’t want to see me with someone else.”

“That’s not true” he huffed, standing up to approach you.

“I’ve been really getting my shit together. I started the label, I set time aside so I could be home with Reyna more, I’m a good dad! I’m ready to prove that i’d be a good husband or boyfriend again” he was standing close to you now, his energy felt overwhelming. It took everything within you not to kiss him and be agreeable, you had finally heard all of the things you’d been longing to hear.

“I’m not doubting that you’re a good father, you’re a great dad. You’ve just never been the best at being monogamous. I don’t see how much could have changed in such a small amount of time” you started to cry, he backed away from you slightly assuming that standing so close to you wasn’t helping, he kept his eyes on you though.

“Tell me” he cleared his throat, you could tell that he was holding back a cry too.

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me you’ve fallen out of love with me” he looked at you, you avoided his eye contact.

“I-“ You’re voice trembled, you didn’t want to lie to him.

“If you can admit to me that you’re not still in love with me, I’ll leave you alone. You don’t have to worry about this conversation, we can forget it ever-“

You grabbed him by the neck so he’d lean down to you, you looked into each other’s eyes for a moment and you kissed him. He picked you up, you wrapped your legs around his waist, and you continued to kiss him, not noticing the door flinging open.

#jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow fanfic #dad!jack

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strqyr · 1 year

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The longer I think about it the more convinced I'm getting that, if Gretchen was the spring maiden, she got involved in Summer's mission somehow and that led to her death? (My current theory is also that Summer used the first question in the lamp, but the specifics don't matter so much, just that spring was involved). A training accident never cut it for me as an explanation for what happened to her, but I would have thought if it was a lie and if Oz was going to come clean about this it would have most likely been in the whale during v8? Like sure you're still hiding things from everyone else but I would have expected him to at least explain to Oscar the real reason Hazel hates him so much given the circumstances. What if he actually doesn't know the full story himself for once?

what gets me is that, in what happened to gretchen, we only have ozpin's word—one that was only heard by oscar—to go by. hazel obviously blames ozpin, and he allied with salem because he believes she has a vision of world with no kingdoms and no huntsmen academies, but i can't remember a moment where hazel actually talks about what happened to gretchen, and thus we have no way of really knowing if it lines up with what ozpin is saying or not.

perhaps fittingly, hazel does say this on monstra: "nice story. but if gretchen's death taught me one thing, it was never to trust you." of course this isn't in response to anything gretchen related, but if there's something afoot with her death, well. it's a pretty telling line.

it's not unheard of that a student could die on a training mission—a signal student died (and that caused the teacher in-charge of them to resign), and yang almost died on a mission she should not have been on in a first place as a first-year student (which does not help ozpin's case here)—but there's definitely this feeling that something's up with gretchen's death, especially with how choice comes up alongside it; pyrrha was said to have made a choice too, but it wasn't exactly an informed, let alone 'no-pressure' one.

it's possible ozpin doesn't know the full story, but if gretchen was the spring maiden, it's an easy conclusion to come to that her presumed death had something to do with that. the 'training accident' explanation alone could be a cover-up to some extent. it could also explain the discrepancy: gretchen died on a 'training mission' and the spring maiden 'ran away', and if ozpin doesn't know what really happened to gretchen (but has his suspicions because she's a maiden and missing) then it's better to muddle the truth instead of connecting these two events and risk the information getting out. else the next thing you know, everyone is looking for gretchen rainart and if she's not already dead, then the chances are she will be soon.

it'd be a bit convoluted way to go about things, but it's not impossible. (it's not like the inner circle is ensuring that the maidens have a proper support system or anything. they're pretty alone out there, so hey, what's possibly-sorta-kinda faking a death of one in an opportune moment gonna matter? no need to get their family involved too.)

and if there is more going on with gretchen's death, then connecting it to summer's mission would make sense. hazel's dead so there's no reason to talk about it for closure, so the other option is to tie it into something really important... and maybe learn if there's an alternative, narrative-only meaning behind the "no more gretchens" line.

#rwby #sigruned #ask.strqyr

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dont-call-me-baby-posts · 1 year

Text

Blacking Out and Breaking Hearts - Chapter 37

Blacking Out and Breaking Hearts - Master List

Word Count: 19K

Warnings: sex drugs and rock n roll baby!! But on a real note there's also some mental health stuff in here so be warned!!!!

Summary: Y/N is a successful musician, trying to navigate the world of stardom along with her complicated feelings for her best friend, Harry.

Alternatively: The one with some closure.

A/N: Hey guys :) Long time no see.

This chapter is starting to tie up all of our loose ends; we need happy endings for everyone! I kind of flip between alllllll the characters in this chapter so we can see a little bit of what they're all doing. Sorry its a little long! As always, please let me know what you think!

Here's what we've got lined up for the rest of the story:

chapter 38 will probably be around 16k of straight smut, plus an ending. 39 and 40 will be the epilogue and then we'll have as many blurbs as y'all want! thank you again everyone who still loves this story! I can't wait to finally see it through with you guys :)

Chapter 37

Rachel wasn’t a confrontational person.

She couldn’t tell if it was just the fact that she’d been born and raised to sit still, look pretty, and be pleasant, or if that was just the personality she’d been cursed with. Either way, she had been soft for as long as she could remember. She was kind and nurturing and never raised her voice, but that also meant she was constantly being stepped over, talked over, and told exactly what to do. She felt like a show dog who never learned to play fetch; all she was meant to do was sit, or speak, or jump.

That was one of the many, many reasons she loved Logan so much. She was almost the complete opposite of Rachel; She never held her tongue, she never let anyone step on her toes, and she said what she meant with her chest. She was everything Rachel wanted to be and couldn’t. She was strong and brave and also soft in her own way without being weak.

For some reason, the news of Harry and Y/N’s inevitable rekindling didn’t bring Rachel the same warm, sappy feelings it did for everyone else. Sure, she was happy for them… But she had to fake the excitement in her voice while she listened to Logan go on and on about how amazing it was that her best friend had finally “gotten the balls” to open up to Harry and fix the “good thing they had”.

Instead of the nice, bubbly feeling Rachel knew she was supposed to have, she felt something else entirely. Something wicked and foreign and almost sinister. Because you know what? Rachel and Logan had a good thing, too, and yet here they were tiptoeing around and lying and covering up every track they left behind them. Here they were, going on nearly two months without having seen each other. Here they were, happy and in love and almost entirely secret.

She didn’t talk to Logan before she did what she did next. It was almost like she was possessed by someone else, someone like her beautiful, talented girlfriend who was brave and bold and decisive. She hung up the phone, after having spent a better part of an hour insisting that she was over the moon for Y/N when in reality she was feeling quite bitter and jealous and angry, and sat motionless on her bed for another 45 minutes. Then, as if someone else had come to rest their hand on her shoulder, she stood up and walked down the stairs to where she knew her parents were enjoying cocktails and fancy little finger foods.

(She, as she marched down the marble stairs, thought how interesting it was that her parents were still having guests over in the height of a global pandemic but insisted it wasn’t “safe” for her to go see Logan. Funny, she thought to herself. Hilarious, really! If Rachel didn’t know any better, she'd suspect they had different motives keeping her away from Logan! Imagine that!)

And then, still guided by some outside force completely out of her control, she found herself in the middle of the expansive kitchen of her parents enormous house, surrounded by at least 20 people she only sort of knew. People who ran companies her parents invested in or directed movies Rachel never bothered to watch or owned record labels that fucked over people like Logan and Y/N. She, in her pajama pants and hair undone, face bare of any makeup whatsoever, slapped her palms on the cool of the island counter and found herself smiling. Cheesing, actually. Nearly giddy with excitement.

Her mom noticed her last, letting out what could be considered a gasp as she turned to see her perfect, hand-moulded daughter in front of all these people looking the way she did now. Hair thrown up on top of her head, not clean. Logan’s oversized t-shirt over her narrow frame, covered in various stains. (The stains were an homage to the exciting, vibrant life Logan had lived before they met, one that Rachel would never experience or understand. Stains from house parties in basements and 9-5 jobs and public school. Rachel loved the spots where the material was stained blue or purple with paint, or slightly torn from a fight Logan had gotten into with some girl from Junior year. None of Rachel’s clothes had stains. Not any of them. It was almost as if she’d never existed at all.)

It was after the gasp that Rachel’s mother said: “Oh! Oh, wow! Sweetheart, why don’t you go upstairs and get dressed and you can join us for dessert?”

Rachel, quick with a response she hadn’t taken any time to think over or plan, shook her head. Her smile didn’t falter.

“Actually, mom, I don’t think I will.”

Nervous laughter, from everywhere. It came in small spurts, someone else’s uncomfortable chuckle filling the silence one after the other.

“Okay, well…” Her mom started, letting out her own high pitched chortle. “Why don’t you-“

“I’m going to see Logan.” Rachel interrupted. (She couldn’t remember one other time she had ever cut someone off while they were speaking, but she was already far from her usual self tonight). Rachel looked around at the confused faces around her, “Logan is my girlfriend.” She clarified with a smile. Her mom laughed tightly again.

“Oh, no, she’s-“

“Yes, mom. Logan is my girlfriend and I’m going to go see her. I think I might stay there a while, actually. With the virus and everything, you know, I figure it would be safer than staying here with all of your lovely guests.”

Now she’d done it. Her mothers face changed shades three times over, going from pink to red to a stark white that for some reason made Rachel feel even better than she already did. Her mom, after a quick excuse to her friends, walked herself up the stairs, knowing Rachel would follow.

When she got to Logan’s house later that night she didn’t recount the events of the evening. She didn’t tell her what her mom had said, all the threats she’d whispered under her breath. She didn’t tell her how she’d cried the whole time packing her bags, or how her dad had run out after her telling her to think it over or sleep on it. She didn’t tell Logan that her mom had, in her own words, told her she wasn’t welcome back in their home if she did anything “unsavory”. She didn’t tell Logan that she’d essentially been cut off by her parents when she told her mom she was going public with her relationship. She didn’t feel that she needed to, not yet at least.

Rachel didn’t need her family's money. She was successful in her own right, and the whole pandemic had given her a chance to start thinking about careers other than modeling, anyway. She didn’t take time to think it over. She didn’t have to.

///

Logan was snuggled in her bed when Rachel knocked on the door. At first she wasn’t sure what she’d heard, knowing she had already had her daily DoorDash interaction and wasn’t expecting anything or anyone else. The second knock came once Logan had sat up in bed, ears perked and skin prickly with nervous goosebumps.

To say she was surprised was a massive fucking understatement. She’d never been so happy. She threw herself into Rachel, whose arms were slung with bags, and didn’t notice the way her cheeks were still a little puffy. She tugged her inside and she sat her down on the couch before running to the kitchen to whip up some of Rachel’s favorite cookies.

Rachel could’ve cared less about the cookies, but she knew Logan wouldn’t take no for an answer. So, she sat backwards on the couch, gazing into the kitchen just watching the love of her life pant and stress and measure and stir. She’d never looked more beautiful, Rachel thought. Never ever ever.

They stayed on the couch the rest of the night, catching up and kissing and saying over and over how they’d missed one another. Next to a half eaten tray of cookies is where Logan helped Rachel pick out all their favorite photos together for Rachel to post on Instagram. A post dedicated to her girlfriend. And in a way, a post dedicated to herself.

And it was that easy. After so many months of lying and hiding and longing desperately for what all these other couples had, Rachel had it. She was free. She was cut-off and angry and hurt and scared but before all of that she was free. And, now, she was out.

///

You didn’t see Rachel’s post, or Logan’s texts, or the countless tweets breaking the internet. You were… preoccupied.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like that.” Harry praised, running a hand through your hair to rest on the back of your skull. “So fucking pretty. Fucks sake.”

You hummed around him, running your hands up the length of his thighs to rest on the soft part of his hips. Harry was laid back against the headboard, body at a slope while you nestled yourself between his parted thighs. Your head bobbed softly around his length, his hand applying no extra pressure but still making your scalp tingle warmly. You weren’t in any hurry, your movements slow and sleepy and delicate. Harry hummed softly above you, telling you again and again that you were so pretty, so pretty, so fucking good.

The last few days had gone pretty much like this. You’d wake up wrapped up in Harry’s gangly limbs, kiss his eyelids open, and stay in bed until one of you was desperate enough to go pee or eat. You’d sometimes lay in bed and talk or make out or, on days like this one, you’d shuffle yourself down the length of Harry’s body and take him into your mouth like you were starved. Harry would do the same for you, usually pulling you by your hips up his torso and onto his face or bending his leg just enough so you could situate yourself on top of his tiger tattoo and curl into his chest until you came.

Life was so good. Everything was perfect. Harry was an angel, as usual. The weather was just right for leaving the windows open. No one texted you or called you about meetings or bothered you. It was just you and Harry and a kind of calm contentment you hadn’t felt in years.

You still hadn’t had sex, but after listening in on Harry’s conversation with Anders you decided not to push it. You thought maybe if you just proved yourself to him, he’d be ready. You didn’t mind giving him time, even though you secretly hoped each night you curled up next to him that he might take you right there and press your face into the mattress until you couldn’t think or even speak. You would never ever want him to do something he didn’t want to, and he was giving you more than enough to hold you over. In fact, the amount of affection and love and attention he’d showered you with the last few days had been enough to last a lifetime. Not a second went by that you didn’t know with every singular cell in your body how much he loved you. He wouldn’t allow it.

Even when you had a nightmare a few days before, Harry had been awake and alert the moment you needed him. You didn’t even have time to get to the worst part of the dream and startle yourself awake before he’d pulled you on top of his body and began whispering in your ears. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and his legs around your thighs, tying you to his front. You weren’t scared when you woke up and didn’t pull away from the touch. “I’m right here.” He’d whispered, shifting his weight to rock you slightly. “I’m right here. It’s okay, flower. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.”

He must have heard you mumbling his name in your sleep, the same way you always did when you had these nightmares. You called his name like always and he was there. You were calm and back to sleep in a matter of minutes, something you wouldn’t have even thought possible a few months ago.

And now, on another beautiful morning, you were leaving the half-moon indents of your nails on the inside of Harry’s thighs. Feeling more alive than ever. On top of the world. Like the luckiest girl alive.

///

Anders wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

He’d not been doing his weekly therapy sessions like he was meant to, and hadn’t been for weeks. Talking about his feelings with some stiff old man was bad enough, and doing it over a Zoom call was just downright unbearable. He’d rather do anything else, and so he did. He crocheted and wrote songs and annoyed his parents to no end practicing his trumpet from middle school. He painted and talked to Harry and Y/N and learned the dances from three separate Justin Bieber music videos to a fucking T. He kept himself busy by any means necessary, because he had to. He even built a tiny house for a lady bug he found on his window still out of a cereal box. The ladybug died the next morning, but Anders liked to think it died comfortably at least.

But on this day, Anders was inclined by some outside force (perhaps the same force that had moved Rachel all the way in LA) to find his laptop under all the dirty laundry and half-finished projects on the floor and open up the stupid fucking website and message his stupid fucking therapist that he was actually going to show today.

He found himself talking about Y/N, and Jena, and Macy from the grocery store. (She’d been the one to stop him from nearly overdosing that day he’d bought all those drugs, after all. He thought about her all the time lately. He thought about her every time he ate one of his oranges he’d bought that day, which was a lot. His mom told him he had to finish the entire bag as some sort of fucked up punishment, he supposed). His therapist, with his cable knit sweater and glasses slid half-way down his nose, had to basically force Anders to talk about his parents.

“It sucks, man. What else do you want to know?”

The doctor, Dale, narrowed his eyes at Anders’ answer to his question about how things were ‘at home’. When he realized Anders wasn’t going to continue, he sighed and lifted his hands.

“Could you be any more specific about what sucks so bad, man?” Dale retorted. Over the weeks that Anders had spent with him before the pandemic, Dale had learned it worked better if he talked to Anders the way Anders talked to him. Dale thought, genuinely, that they bonded this way. Anders just thought it was funny.

“Everything about it sucks.” Was all he could think to say in return.

By the end of the session, Dale had somehow convinced him that spending more time with his parents might help. If he didn’t put so much space between them, he said, he may feel less suffocated. So, in a desperate fucking attempt to feel a little less crazy, Anders decided to do just that.

Every night his dad would hobble up the stairs and knock softly on the door and invite Anders to dinner, and every night Anders would decline. (Ever since the incident with the drugs, Andy couldn’t stand looking either of them in the eyes.) When Anders would inevitably turn him away, his dad would say something about how he would save some if he changed his mind and Anders would mumble a quick “thank you” and that would be that. He knew his dad was trying his best, and he believed it when he said he missed Anders and wanted to spend time with him. His mom never made any attempt to talk to him after the drug incident. Anders was okay with that, he thought.

To put it plainly, Anders’ dad was fucking bamboozled when he accepted his offer to come to dinner later that night. He’d been leaning against the door, his ear pressed to the wood to hear Anders’ response when it had been thrown open to showcase a bright-eyed and surprisingly content son on the other side. “I’d like that.” Anders smiled, feeling like this was his first big step into fixing everything. “Thank you for asking.”

His dad had followed him down the steps, even the sound of his socked feet on the stairs sounding confused. Anders spun around the corner into the kitchen, throwin’ a little razzle dazzle on his triumphant return to the family unit as he found a seat at the table. He leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. He felt almost excited to be here.

“Whatcha makin’?”

His mom, at the sound of her only son’s voice, turned to face him and froze, serving spoon still in hand and dripping twice onto the tiled floor before she looked back at her husband.

“I told you I didn’t make enough for three.” She said to him.

Oh.

And, just like that, it was over. The high Anders had felt following his talk with Dale fizzled out and settled into an ache in his abdomen. He was stunned for a second, looking back and forth between his parents. Surely he misunderstood.

“I’m sure there’s enough.” His dad said, an over the top sunshine in his voice. When she didn’t answer right away his dad spoke again, his sunshine feeling a bit more shaded. “He wants to have dinner with us, hun.”

“Well, there’s not enough.” She reiterated, literally throwing her spoon onto the stove. “If he wanted to eat he should’ve said something. Since when does he want to spend time with us?”

“He can have mine, then.”

Before anyone else could speak, Anders stood up. He felt so small and yet too big, like he was taking up too much space no matter how far he folded into himself.

“It’s alright, Dad.” Anders smiled, turning to face his mom. She met his eyes, finally, though she couldn’t have looked more uninterested. “I have oranges upstairs.”

And he turned and walked back up the same stairs to his same room and collapsed on that same bed he spent all day every day in. He could hear the bickering, just like when he was a child. He covered his head with a pillow but he could still hear them.

“That was cruel.”

“He doesn’t want anything to do with us! Why should I continue making him dinner if he never eats any? I’m tired of cleaning out the tupperwares you insist on saving for him.”

“I’ll clean them, then.”

There was a pause. Dishes clanging in the sink.

“Why do you do this? Why do you defend him after the way he’s talked to us?”

“You’re holding him hostage here! What is he supposed to do?”

“Be grateful, I don’t know!”

Anders turned under his covers. He decided already he wouldn’t cry, but it was threatening to gurgle out of him anyway.

“He is our son. We’re supposed to be helping. You read all those books… You- you went to classes! And now you’re not even going to let the boy eat?”

“I'm tired of the books! I'm tired of the classes, and the coddling, and the fighting! I give up. I give up, okay? I’m done!”

“You give up? Haven’t we failed the boy enough?”

“He failed us! We gave him everything. He could’ve been anything and, and, and… and look at him! You’re proud of that? I’m tired of feeling responsible for how he turned out. He did that on his own.”

“Damn right I’m proud. He may have his… struggles, but he is not a failure. The boys a goddamn rockstar!”

“He’s not a rockstar, he’s a junkie. And I’m tired of pretending that he’s not.”

Now, to anyone else hearing this conversation, there’s a few things you might miss.

Number one: Anders’ dad never cursed. He had, in all of his son’s life, uttered at most 4 curse words and even that was a stretch. Him using the word “damn”, and taking the lord's name in vain? Anders’ could’ve thought hell had finally frozen over!

Number two: Anders couldn’t remember a single time in his life that either of his parents had said they were proud of him. So, even if he hadn’t said it to his face, his dad saying those words was like winning the fucking lottery.

Number three: In all of his years as a semi-professional drug addict, Anders had never been called a junkie by anyone. He hadn’t even seen it online, and he was called his fair share of names. So, to hear his mom say it… It was like a kick in the back of the head. It was like a blow right in his chest. It was worse than going to therapy and making phone calls and being punched in the nose. It was worse than anything he’d ever felt before.

He sprang up out of bed, grabbing his car keys and stuffing his feet into the nearest pair of shoes. He sauntered down the stairs, making no attempt to hide his presence. The conversation in the kitchen stopped as both parties watched him. With a captive audience, Anders thought, it was the perfect time to put on the performance of a lifetime.

“I’m heading out.” He said, spinning the keys around his finger. “Don’t know when I’ll be back.”

Anders, when his mom said nothing, thought he might have been hoping she would stop him. She didn’t.

“I would ask you not to wait up, but seeing as you’ve already eaten I suppose you’re about ready for bed.” He continued. His dad followed him to the door.

“Do you want me to come with you?” He said, stopping a few feet away from Anders as if he was some feral cat that might be startled away. “We can go grab a bite somewhere. It would be nice to spend some time together.”

Anders actually thought about it. His dad, who his entire life had stood by like some decorative piece of furniture, was finally doing what Anders had always wished he would.

“I’m just going to go do some shopping, but maybe we could watch a movie tomorrow, okay?”

His dad smiled, a real smile, and nodded. “Okay, son.”

“Okay.” He said back.

Anders gave one last look to his mom, waiting. Any second now she’d say sorry and tell him not to go. She’d tell him at the very least to be careful, or be home by 10. She didn’t.

“I’ll be home by 10.” He decided for himself. Maybe she’d hold him to it. Maybe she’d call a hundred times if he wasn’t home in two hours. Maybe she’d do what she used to and demand he be home by 9 instead.

She didn’t say anything. She turned back into the kitchen and continued clanging against the pots and pans she had on the stove. His dad gave him a sad, knowing look, but forced a smile anyway.

“Call me if you need anything.” He said, giving a quick slap on the shoulder. “I’ll still be up when you get home if you decide you want to hang out. Be safe, okay?”

Anders nodded and because he was possessed by some much more kind hearted spirit tonight he wrapped his arms around his father with an awkward pat-pat on his shoulder blades. His dad took the opportunity to hug him tightly against his chest, even ruffling Anders’ hair the way he had when he was only a kid.

“I trust you.” He whispered. “And I’m sorry.”

///

The drive to Taco Bell didn’t take too long. Anders turned at the second stop light, hooked a left by the library, and took two more rights until he had made his way into the drive thru. He was the only car there, which was fitting.

He ordered himself two soft tacos, a quesadilla, a cheesy gorrida crunch, and three spicy potato soft tacos. Instead of bringing it home he sat in the empty parking lot and ate there. He wasn’t hungry anymore after the first two tacos but he forced himself to eat the rest anyway. He kept eating and eating and even when it hurt he kept going. He didn’t need his mom to feed him when he could feed himself, he kept thinking. He didn’t need anyone when he could take care of himself. He was eating, wasn’t he? As long as he was eating it was proof he didn’t need anyone at all! He was doing just fine.

When he’d finished the last scraps of food, he nestled himself further into his seat. It was 9:55. His mom would call any minute.

He tried to call Y/N, but she didn’t answer. He tried calling Rachel. No answer. He almost called Logan, but knew he wouldn’t have shit to talk about with her. He was about to call Harry when he changed his mind, not really in the mood for someone who was going to try to fix his problems instead of just listening. He settled on sitting and waiting instead (for what, he wasn’t sure), watching the clock change numbers. He didn’t even put on any music.

He bent forward, picking at a spot of dried paint on his pant leg. He hadn’t even noticed the red splotch there before, the paint somehow reaching his ankle while he painted a portrait of his now deceased lady bug that morning. He kept picking at it but somehow made it worse, chips of red shoved under his nails so deeply it was starting to hurt and the stain now more deeply embedded into the fibers of his sweats. He kept trying and trying and it just got worse and worse and it hurt more and more but he needed the stain out. He needed it out. It had to come out.

When he looked up again, it was 10:37. His mom never called. The red paint was still on his pants.

///

You’d already cum twice before you picked up your phone that morning. After Harry had finished, he’d pulled you up onto him (as he was in the habit of doing), nestling his face against your belly as he pressed kisses into the spaces under your hip bones.

You didn’t even notice all of the missed messages and the chaos online until Harry left to go to the bathroom an hour or two later. You were still foggy-headed and naked when you finally picked up your phone, quickly propping yourself up on an elbow when you realized that while you’d been busy apparently the entire world had turned upside down.

You sprang out of bed, nearly slipping as you hauled yourself down the hallway and into the bathroom where Harry had just finished washing his hands and was getting ready to brush his teeth.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!” You were spitting out, scaring the ever loving fuck out of Harry. He jumped almost out of his skin, smearing toothpaste on cheek.

“What is it?” He questioned, free hand pressed to his chest in shock. “Is everything okay?”

You just shook your head, scrolling through the 40 messages Logan had sent so far that morning. (Or, really, that night for Logan).

“Everyone knows about Logan and Rachel.” You finally said, setting your phone down on the counter and tangling your fingers into your hair as you shoved it out of your face. Harry froze mid-brush, his face flashing with panic before settling into a determined, problem-solving stare.

(Harry had been in the habit of doing that lately. Something about him just seemed so much more at ease, more sensible, more calm. He was so much slower to boil. He had a tranquility about him that you hadn’t noticed before.)

“Someone outted them?” He asked, setting his toothbrush down on the counter. He cringed for a second, shaking his head. “Do you know who it was? I can talk to my team about having my lawyers reach out to them, not that Rachel doesn’t have her own lawyers…”

You stared back at him, confused. “Oh, no…” You started, letting out a small chuckle. “They didn’t-”

“I’ll talk to Logan myself if she already said no, but I can’t just let that happen to them.” Harry grimaced again, leaning his elbows on the counter. “Is she okay? Is Rachel okay? That’s so fucked up that someone would do that.”

“Rachel did it.” You stopped him, cutting him off before he completely spiraled. “She posted on Instagram. Apparently she’s moving into the house with Logan. Her, uh, her parents…”

“Right.” Harry said, letting out a huff. He paused for a second, acting like he was about to speak again before stopping. It only took him a second for him to change his mind, turning his body to face you and resting a hand on the counter. “It’s really fucking convenient of these parents to just kick their kids to the curb like this, innit? And for no fucking reason. It’s so fucked up.”

You closed the gap between your bodies, wrapping your arms around Harry’s waist as he put his attention back towards brushing his teeth. “If it makes you feel any better, Logan says Rachel’s okay. She never liked living with her parent’s anyway, so she says they both just feel relieved.”

Harry hummed along, bending forward slightly to spit into the sink. “Are people being nice to them? Online and allat?”

You pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades, meeting his eyes in the mirror ahead of you. You nodded.

“They’re being very nice.” You told him. “They’re trending on Twitter.”

///

Harry left a few minutes later, making you promise not to shower without him. You agreed, sending him off with a kiss and a promise that you’d join him on his next run. You didn’t mean it, but Harry still seemed satisfied as he headed out.

You’d been so distracted by the whole Logan/Rachel situation that you almost forgot Anders had called you until you were snuggled up back in bed. You figured since Harry would be back soon to take a shower that you would wait to get dressed and have a few extra minutes in the swaddle of covers on Harry’s bed. So, back in your snug little cocoon, you decided to give Anders a call back.

“HEY FUCKER.�� Anders yelled into the receiver almost the second you’d pressed the call button. You giggled to yourself, pressing the phone between your ear and the pillow.

“Hey sweet pea. What’s up?” You asked, letting your eyes flutter closed. You could hear some kind of… banging on the other end, though it didn’t particularly surprise you considering who you were talking to. “What are you building a fucking rocking chair or something?”

“Its a shelf, actually.” He corrected, swinging what you assumed to be a hammer a few times before continuing. “I’ve almost got it all finished, I just need to add some final touches.”

“Oh…” You started, deciding whether or not you should even ask. “That sounds… fun?”

“It’s keeping me busy, at least. I got in a fight with my mom again so I decided to take matters into my own hands.” He swung the hammer again before letting out a sigh. “She wanted to act like a bitch and not let me eat dinner so I thought, y’know, okay. I’ll go buy some fuckin’ groceries and a shelf and I’ll feed my fucking self. I got a mini fridge and everything.”

You paused, unsure what to say next. As close as you and Anders were, Harry was normally the person that he went to to talk about his family stuff, and you weren’t sure exactly how to navigate it.

“Why wouldn’t she let you eat?”

“Because she hates me.”

“She doesn’t-”

“No, she does.” Anders stopped you, chuckling to himself. “But I’m okay with it. Kinda come to terms with it, you know?”

It got quiet for a second, both of you unsure what to say next.

“She called me a junkie.” Anders added, instantly making your skin itch all over. You tried not to but let out an audible gasp, your hand not quick enough to stop it before it came out. “She said all kinds of stuff, actually. But it’s cool.”

What were you even supposed to say to make this any better? “You aren’t a junkie, Anders.”

“No, I am.” He brushed you off. “It’s all good though, seriously. You don’t have to make me feel better or anything. I just wanted to talk to you is all.”

“Okay.. Well, if you were wanting to talk to Harry he should be home in a little bit…”

“Harry? No, no..” Anders responded. “I just want to talk to you for a bit if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, totally.” You rushed out, realizing too late how desperate you must sound. “I mean, for sure. I can talk.”

///

Anders filled you in on the rest of his night, telling you all about how he had spent half the night in a Taco Bell parking lot before coming home and watching a movie with his dad. He said his dad waited up for him just like he’d promised he would, only to pass out less than 15 minutes into the movie. You felt your chest swell slightly at the news but you didn’t make a big deal out of it. You’d always hoped Anders could work it out with his parents, and even if his mom still wasn’t on board, at least he had someone on his side now.

(Anders made a point not to tell you that he’d purposefully fallen asleep on the couch, too, his head ‘just so happening’ to fall on his fathers shoulder next to him. He’d imagined they’d both wake up the next morning and laugh about how they’d dozed off. Andy woke up only an hour or so after he’d drifted, though, neck stiff. He was never, ever able to get a full night's rest, even now. Once he woke he hobbled up the steps and got into bed like nothing had ever happened. He'd already decided he’d never utter a word of it to anyone.)

When Harry got home you were still on the phone, and instead of listening in he decided to clean up the kitchen. (You’d decided to make homemade pizzas the night before, and to put it lightly the kitchen looked like a murder scene). You felt kind of guilty leaving him to deal with the mess, but you felt special being the one to have Anders’ attention for once and you didn’t want to let it go just yet.

“And so I built the little guy a house and everything, right? I made him a little couch and a bed and all that…” Anders was going on, telling you some story about a lady bug he’d found in his bedroom. “He was dead when I woke up, though. I googled it and I don’t think it’s bad luck to find a dead lady bug but I still think it’s, like, a sign or something. Like a bad omen.”

“You sound like you’ve been cooped up too long, buddy.” You laughed, imagining the comical frown on Anders’ face when he found the bug. “You’re thinking about it too much.”

“That’s all I have to fucking do these days, man! I’ve been cooped up way too long.” He spit out, exasperated. “You never wanna fucking talk to me anymore so I have to resort to desperate measures.”

You furrowed your brow. “What do you mean I never talk to you?” You asked with a soft laugh, though you really weren’t joking. “You’re the one who never calls me.”

That wasn’t entirely true and you knew it, but it came out anyway. What you meant was that he didn’t call you as much as Harry.

“I never call you? What the fuck do you mean I never call you?” He pushed back, his awkward laugh mimicking yours a moment ago but his tone a little bit harsh. “I would call you more if you actually wanted to talk to me.”

“What are you even saying right now?” You sighed, sitting up in bed so the comforter hung off of your chest. “I always want to talk to you. You just call Harry instead.”

“You want to talk to me now but you didn’t before I left LA.” He said matter of factly. “You’ve barely wanted to talk to me for months now.”

“That is not true, Anders.” You spoke, offended. You realized once you’d said it that you had no reason to be offended; he was actually right. But that realization only annoyed you further, so you doubled down. “We hung out all the time before you left LA.”

“Well, first of all, we definitely did not. Not alone at least.” He spoke again. He didn’t sound angry, only a little bit miffed. “And second of all, you’re my best friend. You seriously think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been around me? It’s just like… if I did something, I’d rather you tell me what I did so we can talk about it.”

For some reason your blood ran cold. If I did something, he said. You could almost laugh.

“I’m not your best friend, though. Don’t say that.”

He barked out a laugh. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious, Anders. I love you but I am not your best friend.”

He didn’t say anything right away. “Okay then? Fucking ouch.”

“I’m just saying…”

You could hear him breathing unevenly. “So could you, like, tell me why? Or?”

“Why what?”

“Why you don’t want to be my best friend anymore?”

It was you who laughed this time, trying to lighten the mood and make your words a bit softer. You spoke like you were kidding but you meant every word. “It’s not that I don’t, it’s just that you’ve clearly replaced me. Like I just mean don’t call me your best friend when it’s obvious I’m not.”

“Replace you? What the fuck are you even talking about?”

“What is not clicking here, man?” You tried to tease him. “We’re still friends I’m just saying that you and Harry are closer than us now, and that’s okay, but don’t-“

“Harry? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Yes, Harry.”

“Fuck Harry! What the fuck? You’re-“

“You can’t tell me it isn’t true!”

“It’s not!“

“It’s is!”

Anders let out a long sigh. “Y/N you are my best friend… I couldn’t ever replace you even if I lived a thousand life times. Don’t be crazy.”

You hated it when he called you crazy, even when he didn’t really mean it.

“I’m not your best friend and you know that.” You let out, words coming faster than you could even comprehend them. “I can admit that I might have been distant but you’ve been doing the exact same thing as me. You think I haven’t noticed how much you talk to Harry? You call him every day and tell him all about your life and what’s going on and when we talk you tell me everything’s fine. It’s like… It’s like you replaced me the second you got back from…”

“From where, Y/N? Say it.” He prompted you. “Where’d I come back from? Hm? Could you just fucking say it for once instead of acting like it didn’t happen?”

You frowned hard, biting your lip. “Did you even hear what I said?”

“I did, I was just letting you finish before I tell you how ridiculous you sound.”

Your eyes rolled so hard they almost fell out of your head. “Fuck you, Andy.”

He let out a sigh. “No, I didn’t- I just meant that you’re wrong about that. About Harry, I mean.”

“Oh, am I Anders?” You questioned, free hand balling into the comforter. He tried backpedaling but you had already departed the station, the damn already split open. You were upset now and couldn’t hide it even though you wished you could. “You tell him everything. I’ve heard how you guys talk to each other. And, yeah, I needed some space from you after everything but… But I’m just saying it didn’t take you very long to find someone else. You act like I just fucked off and left you out to dry but you did the exact same thing to me.”

He was quiet for a while, thinking. “I wasn’t trying to say that at all, dude. I think maybe we’re misunderstanding each other-“

“Oh, and speaking of rehab,” You cut him off, words already caught in the avalanche. “Who did you have come visit you twice a fucking week? Not me, Andy. If I was your best friend… fuck. I didn’t get to see you once, Andy, and I’m the one who fucking found-“

You stopped suddenly, chest heaving. It was the first time either of you had come even remotely close to talking about that night. You decided to do what Anders tried and back pedal, but it was already too late. You kept going.

“Whatever. I’m just saying that, to me, it seems like you've already got a best friend. I’m sorry for not being around more but-“

“Hey! Hey! I wasn’t trying to pick a fight, okay? I just wanted to know if I did something…”

Here he went with that shit again. If I did something. He could get bent.

“I’m not either.”

“Kind of seems like you are.”

“I’m just saying! Geez!” You yelled, knowing you were just making it worse. You didn’t know why you couldn’t just stop yourself. “It’s okay if Harry’s your best friend. It’s fine. I just don’t think we need to lie to each other to make me feel better.”

“He is not my best fucking friend, Y/N. I could give a motherfuck about Harry.” Anders spoke. He wasn’t often serious with you like this, so his tone made the words you wanted to throw at him disappear instantly on your tongue. “Not really, but you know what I mean. And I… I never even invited Harry to come see me at rehab, he just showed up.”

“Yeah, and you never even told me!” You snipped.

“You told me not to talk about Harry! What was I supposed to-“

“No. You kept that from me purposefully, Anders. That’s different and you know it is. I fucking… I fucking drove you there and you didn’t even let me see you.” You caught your breath, panting. “I’m sorry, I know I’m being mean right now it’s just…”

“It’s been on your mind, I get it.” He excused you. He was so kind, even now, letting you off the hook easily as always. “It’s been on my mind, too. I’m glad it’s out in the open at least.”

“I guess.” You grumbled. But he was right, and he was right to bring it up. You sighed, admitting defeat. “You’re right, I just… Its hard for me to talk about. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He waved off. “What else do you need to say?”

You chuckled, wracking your brain. What could you say? There were a million things you’d thought to yourself over the last few months, and the last few weeks in particular, and yet nothing came to mind.

“That’s it, I think.” You answered honestly. “I’m sorry I talked to you like that, but… I don’t know. It hurt my feelings when you said I don’t like talking to you because it isn’t true. I still care about you and I still love you as much as I always did…”

“Then why doesn’t it feel like that, Y/N?” He asked, voice wavering. “I’m sorry for spending so much time with Harry, but I couldn’t be alone, man. I… I felt like you fucking disappeared. I’m not blaming you I’m just saying I wasn’t trying to replace you, ever. I- I genuinely didn’t know what else to do. I needed someone.”

“So did I!”

“I know you did! I know! And I would’ve been there if you’d fucking let me.”

“Maybe I would’ve let you if you weren’t with your fucking boy all the time!”

He let out a small gasping sound. “That’s totally fucking unfair. I only spent so much time with him because you weren’t around.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. But it’s not just that you were hanging out with him, anyway. It’s the way you talk to him… You know when I got here he knew things about your life that I didn’t even know? It was embarrassing, dude. You call him to talk about your feelings and you tell him what’s bothering you and when I call you just say it’s fine.�� You let out. “You don’t talk to me like that, and you never have. You didn’t before you went to rehab and you don’t now… And you know what, now that I think of it, it kind of did bother me how much time you spent with Harry. You could’ve befriended anyone in the world, Anders, and you chose him? I mean, part the reason we stopped seeing each other as much is because you were constantly with my ex boyfriend. It wasn’t the main reason, but it still fucking sucked for me.”

“I was trying to get you guys back together the entire time!” He defended weakly. “I wasn’t picking a side, man, I was trying to fucking help. I don’t fucking know. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I spent so much time with him and I can totally understand why that would upset you. I should’ve thought about that and I’m sorry.” He paused, sheets ruffling as he must have been laying down. “But we both know that’s not the reason you didn’t want to hang out with me. And, you know, I understand that and I’m not trying to act fucking stupid by pretending I don’t get it, but… I mean, I want to know how I can fix it. Like how long is that going to last before you want to be around me again? I know I fucked up and if there’s nothing I can do I get it but I would like to at least try before I let this fucking ruin our friendship.”

You weren’t sure what to say. He spoke again while you tried to figure it out.

“Sorry I didn’t fucking open with that.” He giggled, letting out an exhausted huff. “I didn’t mean to come at you like that I just didn’t know how else to bring it up. I should’ve just asked you how you were feeling.”

“It’s okay. It’s fine, I just don’t…” The words you searched for still eluded you. “Why didn’t you let me visit you, Anders? When I found that out, I… That hurt super fucking bad, man. I mean, I asked you every single day… And, I mean, the whole Harry thing aside, I feel like I should’ve been the one to get to be there. I think I earned that.”

“Earned it?” He whispered incredulously. “Y/N, I didn’t want you there because I was a fucking mess. I- I- I was a fucking disaster! I had already done enough to you at that point it felt unfair to drag you into that. And I was embarrassed, man. I didn’t want anyone to see me, and the only reason I was okay with Harry being there was because I didn’t know him and I honestly didn’t give a shit what he thought. I care what you think, a lot. I always have. I couldn’t let you see me like that.”

It made sense, but it didn’t make you feel much better. You didn’t even realize how badly you’d been hurt by the news of Harry going to visit him until you’d spoken it out loud, and it was hitting you like a truck.

“I still wanted to be there.” You replied, words like glass ready to shatter. “I wanted to be there for you the entire time, after rehab, but…”

“But you were mad at me. I know.”

“Mad at you?” You snapped, shaking your head for no audience. “I wasn’t… No, Andy. I couldn’t be around you because…” You had to stop, inhaling a shaky breath. You didn’t want to think about it. “Because every time I was around you, all I could think of… I still saw it every time I looked at you. I could see how purple your lips were, and you were so pale…”

You couldn’t continue, throat closed tight. You shook your head again but didn’t know why. Maybe to shake the sight out of your brain.

“I’m so sorry I did that to you, Y/N. I am so, so fucking sorry.” He whispered again. You could tell he was crying. “I spend every second of every day wishing I didn’t do that. And, you know, sometimes I think that… I don’t know, if I’d only done it an hour earlier, or locked my door, you never would’ve-“

“Anders! Stop it!” You broke, cutting him off before he could rip your heart out entirely. You were crying now, too. “You can’t say stuff like that. It’s a good thing I was there. I was supposed to be there.”

“You were never supposed to be there.” He argued. “That wasn’t supposed to happen like that. And if- If I thought for a second that you’d come there and see that then I wouldn’t have… Or I would’ve done it differently, or something. And then you wouldn’t have had to see anything and you wouldn’t have had to drive me to rehab and we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. And you wouldn’t have even known me that well back then to even really miss me for that long.”

“It would have ruined my life, Anders.” You clarified. He couldn’t have been more wrong, about any of it. “I never would’ve fucking forgiven myself for that shit. I still can’t forgive myself now! You can’t- You don’t get to say you wish you’d done it better, or that I’d be better off or whatever dumb shit you’re gonna say. I was there for a reason and I am grateful every day that you weren’t alone.”

“I know. I know.” Anders repeated over and over while you finished, voice hushed and tired. “I know, I didn’t mean all of that… I just feel so guilty about everything, and the only way I can think to fix it is if I would’ve-“

“You don’t need to feel guilty.”

“Yes, I do.”

“You do not.”

“You just fucking said you can’t forgive yourself for what happened! You just said that! I fucking ruined your life as it is! I didn’t need to die to do that, it’s already fucking done!” He went off suddenly, nearly making you jump out of your skin. “I know what I did to you. And I’m sorry. But that is exactly fucking why I call Harry to bitch about my life, or talk about my fucking mom, or whatever. I can’t talk to you about that shit.”

“Why not, Anders? Why not?” You croaked. “That’s what friends do. I want you to know how you're doing, I want to help…”

“I can’t fucking talk to you about it! I can’t! I have burdened you since I fucking met you, I’ve scarred you for fucking life. I’m not calling you to complain about how shit my life is.” He huffed for a second, bordering more on angry now than he did upset. “As far as I’m concerned, for the rest of my fucking life I’m going to be perfectly fine every time you ask me how I’m doing. I have to be okay for you. I don’t get to complain to you, ever again.”

“I don’t want you to always be okay. I want you to be honest with me.”

“Because you’ve been honest with me, right? Like you ever tell me what’s going on with you. You hardly even talked about the breakup with Harry with me. You don’t tell me shit.” He spilled out. “Every time I ask, you lie to me just like I lie to you. You’re telling me you’ve been perfectly fine this whole time? There hasn’t been one thing that’s bothered you? Not one bad day?”

You didn’t realize just how clueless Anders was on what you’d been through while he was off dealing with his own stuff. You’d kept just as much from him as he had from you, from the breakup to the nightmares to the way you were constantly haunted by that pale, purple version of your best friend.

“You’re right. I haven’t been honest with you, either.” You admitted. You wiped your face, frustrated tears threatening to make their way down your neck. “Can we just agree not to lie to each other anymore? I’ll tell you what’s going on with me but only if you agree to do the same. I want to be there for you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

It was quiet, both of you catching your breath and slowing your brains. Everything was coming at you so fast it was like you couldn’t keep up. You thought about everything, about how angry you had been and how hurt and how confused… You thought about everything that had pinched at the back of your brain for months now that you always steadfastly ignored.

“You should’ve told me what was going on, before all of this.” You said without meaning to. “It never should’ve gotten so bad if you just told me.”

“It’s not that simple, Y/N.”

“It is, though. I… I fucking asked you if you were on drugs, and you lied to me. I asked you all the time if you were okay. I tried calling you every single day after you broke your nose.” It was all bubbling over now, nothing stopping it. You were angry again, about everything. All at once. “I know I should’ve tried harder and I will always carry that with me, but you should’ve talked to me, man. You should’ve told me.”

“What was I supposed to do, huh? What do you want from me?” He snapped, a chord obviously struck. “You wanted me to tell the girl I hardly knew that I was fucking su*cidal? That would’ve gone over super well, I’m sure.”

“That’s not what I mean-“

“I can tell you how that conversation would’ve gone, actually. Hey girl I just met, do you want to hear about how fucked up I am?” He stopped to laugh. “You wanted me to tell you that I was on drugs, again? Should I have told you how many fucking times I’d already done the exact same thing since I was, like, 17? That would’ve been really comforting to you, I’m sure. It wouldn’t have totally made you lose faith in me or anything, like everybody else.” He stopped for a second to laugh, again, the idea of this imaginary conversation obviously tickling him. “Or, better yet, I could’ve told you at the hospital that that wasn’t even the first time I’d tried to fucking k*ll myself! Or the second! Or the fucking third! I’m sure that would’ve helped soooo much had you known that.”

Instead of saying anything you just cried quietly into your bent elbow, head resting on your knees. When you didn’t say anything Anders sighed sadly, speaking again.

“I shouldn’t have said that. I know that’s not what you meant, and I’m sorry. But you have to see where I’m coming from, right? If I…” He choked on his words for a second, clearing his throat. “Y/N, if I knew how to ask for help you would’ve been the first one I went to. If I knew how to ask I would have. You have to believe me.”

You did believe him. It was unfair of you to blame him for not coming to you, but you still couldn’t help how angry you were at him. It was fucked up but you just felt so… fucked over by him. It was so wrong and you knew it but you couldn't help being mad that he didn’t think more about your feelings. You knew it wasn’t about you and it never was, and yet it still hurt you. Maybe you were just selfish, you weren’t sure.

“You didn’t even leave me a note, Andy.” Was what you decided on saying. You’d never brought that fact up to anyone, deciding it was too morbid for your mom or Logan or even Harry. But it had always been there, in the back of your mind, gnawing away at the space you used to use for your fond memories of Anders. It’s like with every second you didn’t say anything about it it just continued eating at the image of him you had in your head. Each day that passed just eroded at the soil more and more. “I called and I texted and I showed up to your house… I was the only one who didn’t think I was being irrational. I was worried fucking sick about you for weeks and weeks after the Halloween party, and you couldn’t even write me a fucking su*cide note?”

Saying it out loud like that made your stomach lurch. You were nearly hysterical but you kept talking anyway.

“I deserved a fucking note, Anders. If you were going to leave me all on my own the least you could’ve done was write me a fucking note. And I know there wasn’t one hidden because I cleaned every square inch of that apartment after I dropped you off at rehab.” You choked back a sob, so upset the phone in your hand shook fiercely against your ear. “There was nothing there, Anders. Nothing. I know I sound selfish and I’m being a brat, but honestly Anders when you… when you took those pills I felt so abandoned by you. How do you think I felt? I know it’s not about me and I’m fucked for feeling that way but I felt like you never even cared about me at all when you did that shit. And I tried ignoring that part, I chalked it up to being bigger than me, but… but I didn’t even get a note? I wasn’t even important enough to you for a note?”

He didn’t say anything, for a long, long time. You both just cried and cried and cried and you wished more than anything you could’ve had this conversation face to face. You wanted to hold him like you did at the hospital. You wanted to play with his hair. You wanted to put a hand on him, just to prove he really was okay.

“There was a note. On my phone.” He whispered after that long, long time had passed. His voice was so quiet you could hardly hear it over your own ragged breath. “There was one for you, and for Rachel. And there was one for my mom. I thought that you guys would, like, go through my phone or whatever, after…”

You opened your mouth but nothing came out. You hated the way your shoulders relaxed, like something had been proven to you by that fact. You hated how relieved you felt. It made you sick.

“You are important to me and you always have been. And I don’t think you’re fucked for feeling that way. I knew you must feel that way and I thought… I thought if I just went back to normal I could make up for it. I thought I’d make it go away.” His breath rattled his chest for a second. “I’m sorry we didn’t talk about this sooner. If I could go back, even to February, I’d do it all differently. I swear on my life I would.”

“I’m so sorry…” Was what you said, unsure what else could fill in the silence. “I shouldn’t have even brought the note thing up, it’s just been.. on my mind, I guess.”

“No, I get it.” He spoke sweetly, voice still soft by the tears mostly gone. “I actually thought about telling you I wrote it a few times, but I didn’t know if you’d even realized and I thought it’d be weird to just randomly tell you…”

He started laughing at that, a real, genuine laugh. You started laughing too, unable to ignore how silly the whole thing was. You wished softly that you’d talked about all of this sooner, but you did your best not to think too much about it.

“It would’ve been weird, yeah.” You snickered, wiping your nose on the back of your hand. “Imagine we just went out for lunch and you drop that on me over a salad. Like a casual, hey by the way…”

Anders laughed harder, the sound healing some part of you that had snapped during the conversation. “Right like we go out to fucking Bella Vino and I just slide my notes app across the table to you.” He had to stop, cackling with laughter. “Like, I wrote this for you, just so you know.”

“Not the notes app.” You shrieked, wiping at your eyes.

“You know what they say, right? The only thing better than a notes app apology…”

You both giggled a while longer, eventually sighing exhausted and overwhelmed but somehow peaceful.

“You know you’re important to me, right?” Anders asked once your stomach was sore. “I mean that. You saved my life, Y/N, and I could never, ever…. I could never replace you, or stop caring, or any of that. You saved my fucking life. And I never even said thank you! I never… I’m fucked for that, I know I am. I just didn’t know how I could possibly-“

“You don’t have to thank me.” You assured him. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I owe you my life, man. I owe you everything.” He choked up again, blowing out a deep breath. “Because, you know, I bitch a lot to Harry, and this has been the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done, but.. but I’m really happy I’m alive. I’m so happy I’m alive.“ He stopped again, giggling. He sounded like a little kid. “I got to watch a movie with my dad because I’m alive. I owe you for that, big time.”

///

The rest of the conversation went easily after that, or at least easier. You talked more about everything, both of you letting out everything you’d been meaning to. For as scared as you were of this inevitable conversation, it really wasn’t as hard as you expected once the first bit was over.

The topics floated around elsewhere, too. Anders caught you up on how life with his parents had been and even told you a bit more about his relationship with his mom in particular. He told you stories from his childhood about being locked out of the house for a day and a half because his mom was mad at him or not being able to go on a feild trip in eighth grade because “she thought he liked his friends at school more than her”. He told you about Jena, too, more than he ever had before. He told you how she used to force him to have sex or literally push his head down to snort pills off the coffee table even when he said no. He told you how he still had panic attacks every single time he took a shower. He couldn’t wear wet clothes, either, like if it was raining or his sleeve got damp in the sink. “It makes me feel like I’m dying.” He told you. “One time I got caught in the rain and I was so upset I threw up in a parking lot.”

Harry walked in as Anders finished a story about his sixth grade band recital, a plate of scrambled eggs and a bagel set on your lap. You asked Anders if he wanted to say hello, but he politely declined.

“I just want to talk to you for a while.” He’d said. “I’ll call Harry later today.”

And so you told him everything, too. You told him about what happened with Christian and the nightmares (which he did not take well, by the way). You told him that you also hated taking showers at home because it reminded you of what happened. You both shared song recommendations that you used on your shower playlists that made it a little bit easier.

///

By the time you made your way downstairs, Harry had already cleaned up from breakfast, folded your clothes in the dryer, and was neck deep in your old guest bedroom.

He turned to look over his shoulder as you walked in behind him, smiling broadly. He had your suitcases dumped out onto the floor, though most of their contents was already scattered around the room.

“There you are!” He beamed, setting a tube of mascara in a pile he’d set aside for makeup. “I was starting to miss you.”

“I got distracted talking to Andy.” You brushed off, sitting down next to him where you could find the smallest amount of clear floor. “We got into a fight.”

Harry furrowed his brow, setting a pair of socks into the sock pile. “A fight? What about?”

“About you.” You teased. Harry snapped his head to look at you, mouth falling open.

“Did I do something?” He asked, abandoning the t-shirt in his hands. You only smiled, shaking your head.

“No, no.. I’m just kidding.” You laughed, “I kind of told him off for calling you all the time instead of me.”

He didn’t laugh with you. “Baby, you should’ve told me it bothered you.” He began, putting a hand on your cheek. “I didn’t know…”

“It’s okay!” You insisted. “I was feeling kind of bitter but we talked about it and it’s okay. I was just jealous, I guess.”

“You were jealous?”

You paused. “Yeah, kind of.” You admitted, taking Harry’s hand in yours and pulling it off your cheek and into your lap. “I felt like you guys were closer than me and him, and… I don’t know. He called and told me I was his best friend and I kind of lost it on him.”

“But you are his best friend?” Harry responded, confused and looking guilty. “I could’ve told you that. He tells me every day he doesn’t like me as much as you.”

You smiled, maybe a little bit too satisfied. “I am his best friend.” You agreed.

Harry smiled, confused. “Okay?”

“We’re good now, though. Like, actually.” You said, picking up a pair of leggings out of the mess and throwing it in the clothes pile. “We finally talked about everything.”

Harry followed your lead and grabbed your lap top off of the floor and set it on the bed. “You did?” He beamed, nudging your shoulder with his own. “That’s awesome, sunflower. I’m really happy you guys did that.”

“Me too. He said he’s call you later today.”

Harry picked up a bottle of lotion out of the pile, revealing how it had leaked out onto everything below it. He closed his eyes, sighing.

“You know you don’t have to live like this, right?” He nagged. “You’re lucky that didn’t get all over your laptop. Which shouldn’t have been on the floor anyway.”

“It’s fine.”

“Yeah, well if you’re going to be living with me you need to start living like a real person.” He rasped, rubbing his brow. He stopped suddenly, realizing what he’d said. “Not that you live here now, or anything. I just mean since you’re gonna stay here for a while. You don’t have to live out of suitcases.”

You shrugged, brushing off the exchange about the living situation. “I like living out of suitcases. I’m used to it.”

“Well you don’t have to do that anymore.”

“It’s not a big deal…”

It was quiet for a second, you still helping Harry clean your disaster of a bedroom despite you saying it wasn’t an issue. Harry stopped after a minute or two.

“Is there a reason you don’t want to move your stuff into our room?” He questioned, looking you in the eyes. You frowned, stunned.

“I just haven’t gotten around to it.” You said honestly. Harry knew that, the two of your spending nearly every second of every day together. “You know how I am about cleaning.”

Harry didn’t laugh at your joke, just nodding along. “Feels like you have one foot out the door.” He mumbled, chucking a pair of shoes into the shoe pile with a bit of extra frustrated force.

You looked at him, but he just kept organizing. You thought about what he’d said, realizing how it must look from his perspective. Your suitcases were literally still packed.

You thought about his conversation with Anders the other night, how Harry had told him how afraid he was that you would change your mind or leave. You picked up a pair of jeans.

“Do you think you have room in your dresser for my stuff to go in there?” You asked, folding the pants carefully. “We could probably move everything to our room before lunch, if you think we can make space.”

Harry whipped his head around, ignoring your question. “Really?”

You furrowed your brows. “Yes?”

“You want to put it all in our room?”

“Yeah, I do.” You answered honestly. It would be nice to not have to go down the hall every time you needed socks, anyway. “Do you think it will all fit?”

Harry leaped up, a ridiculous kind of look on his face as he cheesed down at you.

“Yes!” He squeaked. “Yeah, I can make room! I can go move some stuff right now!”

“Okay. Awesome.” You commented, just looking up at him. You couldn’t help smiling just as goofily as he was. “Do you want help?”

He looked back and forth for a second, running his fingers through his hair. “No, no, I’m good. I’ll just move some shit and you stay here and get your stuff ready, okay?”

“Okay.”

He didn’t leave, though, just staring at you. His legs were wiggling with nervous excitement.

“This is great.” He said, letting out a giggle. He covered his mouth, trying to force the smile off of his face and failing. “This makes me really happy, Y/N. Thank you.”

You crinkled your nose at him. “You don’t need to thank me, you pest.”

He continued staring at you for a second, his smile now a permanent fixture on his face. He knelt beside you, pulling your face to his with a hand on either cheek.

“I love you so much.” He gushed into the kiss, hands clammy. “I love you. Thank you.”

“I love you more.” You promised, pulling away from the kiss with a smile of your own. “Now go get ready for all my junk, okay?”

He stood again, his entire body tense and excited and giddy. “Okay! Yeah, okay.. I’m gonna go do that.” He turned to leave, looking back at you every step or two to give you another grin. “I’ll be in our room if you need me.”

“Okay.”

And then he left the room, his giggling following him down the hall. “Let’s fucking go!” He said to himself, his footsteps in the pattern of a little happy skip. “Let’s fucking go!”.

///

You weren’t done by lunch time, the entire ordeal becoming much more of a thing than you’d expected. You sorted through all of Harry’s shit, him deciding what items he wanted to move out of the closet to make room for your own. He threw sweaters you’d seen him wear in paparazzi photos onto the bed, discarded as if you hadn’t memorized the patterns staring at those pictures of him while you were broken up. “I never fucking wear this.” He said, throwing another jacket onto the bed. “Or this. Or this.”

You watched him take nearly all of his clothes across the hall to another empty bedroom, leaving them on the bed in there to be put away later. He took out things you’d seen him wear within the week, insisting he hadn’t worn them in years and didn’t mind them being in the other room. You didn’t argue with him on any of it, his mood so bubbly and excited and just about over the moon. You hadn’t seen him this excited, even the night you first got back together. He talked the entire time, going on and on about how happy he was and all of his plans for your new room you’d be sharing.

“We can paint the walls yellow, too, since that’s your favorite.” He was saying, taking the last load of clothes out of his dresser. “I’ve been meaning to paint the walls in here anyway.”

“You definitely don’t have to do that.” You’d laughed, thinking he was kidding. He just looked at you like you were crazy.

“You don’t like yellow anymore?”

“I do, I just don’t want you to have to-”

“It’s fine.” He cut you off. “I want it to feel like your room, too.”

You didn’t say anything for a second, just looking at him. He looked so in love. You smiled, nodding. “We can paint it together, then.”

He grinned back at you, shoulders relaxing. “Yes! Wouldn’t that be fun?” He gushed, back to his rambling now. “We could buy a new duvet, too. We could hang up some of the paintings Andy’s done for you, too! And all your awards can go over here if we add a shelf.”

You didn’t say anything about the fact that Harry most certainly wouldn’t hang any of his own awards in his bedroom and that you didn’t want to do that, either, just letting him continue. You just listened to him talk, believing everything he said and every promise he made. You wanted to kiss him, so you did, over and over and over. Before you knew it, you had moved everything onto his room and the two of you were picking out a new silk duvet cover online. It had tiny flowers on it.

///

You didn’t get around to lunch until after 3, the two of you close to starvation by the time you’d finished up everything upstairs. You sat on some stools at the kitchen island, scarfing down the Thai food you’d had ordered in. You were almost done with your entire plate when Bethany called you.

“Hey Beth!” You chirped, Harry’s good mood infecting you and making everything seem a little more sparkly. “What’s up?”

She sighed. Bad sign.

“Have you been on the internet at all today?” She asked, not bothering with niceties.

You paused, looking over at Harry who was just as confused as you. You set your phone down on the counter, turning it on speaker.

“I haven’t really been on since early this morning.” You explained. “Why, what’s up?”

“Well, its officially happened. Cats out of the bag.”

You relaxed, realizing what she meant. “Oh, yeah. I saw everything with Logan and Rachel already.” You explained. “Logan texted me this morning to talk about it.”

Bethany let out a short laugh. “Nope, not that Peach. Try again.”

Your breathing stopped for a second, your head whipping to look at Harry the same moment his turned to face you. You had matching expressions on your faces, eyes wide and eyebrows bunched together. Harry leaned towards the phone, speaking.

“What do you mean, Bethany?” He asked, his plate pushed away with the back of his hand.

“Harry, great. I’m glad you’re here.” Bethany went on. She had that tone to her voice right now that she always had when she was really, really pissed. Not at you, but at everything else. It was the way she talked after meetings with Tom, or when someone posted something about you online that was particularly searing. “You should be here for this so you can reiterate all of this to Jeff.”

Oh, fuck. You looked back at him, mouth opening and closing over and over again but no words actually coming out. Harry looked just as dumb and confused as you felt. Finally he spoke.

“What happened?”

His expression changed into the kind he always got when he talked about work. (You selfishly hated that version of him, the one who was all serious and analytical. It didn’t feel like him.)

“Well, Harry, your girlfriend wore your pants on Jimmy Fucking Fallon.” She snipped, sighing. You knew she wasn’t mad at you two, but you still felt like a child being chastised. “And you have a scuff on your wall.”

“What the fuck are you taking about?” You asked, put opened on your stomach.

“Well,” (You could envision her pulling glasses off the top of her head, sliding them down her nose.) “Aubrey on Twitter says, ‘Y/N was literally wearing Harry’s pants on Fallon tonight I’m gonna kms.’ And attached is a picture of you, my dear, wearing some black sweats and another picture of Harry last week on BBC wearing the same ones.”

You looked at each other, mouths agape.

“How do they know we don’t have the same pants?” You asked. You were trying not to panic yet, remembering how Beth had always been the one to brush off incidents like this. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yeah, except there’s a stain on the back.” She explained. “A big white splotch on the butt. Paint, or something.”

Harry groaned, leaning his head onto the counter and banging his fist once in defeat. He stayed like that for a second before sitting back up, his head in his hands.

“Andy and I got into a paint fight.” He started, voice small.

“A paint fight?” You asked incredulously. “What even is that?”

“Well, babe, it’s a lot like a fight but with paint involved.” He snipped back at you. “I should’ve remembered. I was so pissed he ruined those pants…”

You just shook your head, mimicking Harry and throwing your head into your hands.

“What about the scuff on the wall?” You asked, remembering that other detail. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well it’s in the same spot in every single interview the two of you have done the last month.”

Of fucking course it was. You grumbled, laying your head down completely. You’d spent so much time picking an inconspicuous place to set up your camera, and this was still happening.

“So everyone has put it together, then?” Harry asked.

“Yup.” Bethany answered. “And there’s no denying it. I mean, we can say you aren’t a couple… We can say whatever you want, but there’s no denying that you’re living together. Everyone knows it. And, now that they have that, they’re putting everything else together, too.”

Harry shook his head, eyes closing. “But is it like, a couple people saying this? Or is it, like, everyone?”

“Well you're trending on Twitter. Right under Rachel.”

It was quiet for a second, the three of you all waiting for someone else to pipe up. It gave you enough time, in the three or so seconds it was silent, to make up your mind.

Harry needed to know you meant it. He needed to know you weren’t going anywhere. You’d already moved your clothes out of their suitcases and you promised to meet his mom, and there was only one more thing to do. There was only one more thing you could do to prove you meant it.

“I’m happy this is happening.” You said out loud, unsure if Harry would feel the same considering but taking a chance. You watched his face out of the corner of your eye. “I… I don’t want it to be a secret anymore. I want everyone to know.”

Harry snapped around to look at you, expression unreadable.

“As long as Harry is okay with that.” You added, adding some cushioning in case this went sour. “I’m okay with it, though. I’m excited, actually.”

It was true. You’d spent so much time forced to keep it a secret that you’d forgotten that wasn’t ever what you wanted at all. Bethany still sounded just as stressed when she spoke.

“You guys can talk about it. And Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“You need to talk to Jeff. Once you guys talk let me know and we’ll go from there.”

He agreed, both of you saying your goodbyes to Beth before hanging up. You pressed the big red button, waiting a beat before looking up at Harry.

“So…” You started, not able to get much further before Harry cut you off.

“Did you mean that?” He asked, eyes cautious. “About wanting everyone to know? You meant that?”

You nodded weakly. “We’re only supposed to say the stuff we mean, right?”

He looked at you a beat before realization set in and his face broke out into a smile, a giggle ripping through the tension around you.

“Really?”

“Really.”

He sprang foreword, kissing you firmly in the mouth. He held your face the way he always did lately, a hand on either cheek. He mumbled into your mouth, too, the way he’d been keen to do lately.

“I fucking love you. I love you.” He rushed out, biting your lip. “I’m so happy. I’m so fucking happy.”

You kissed him back, telling him you were too. You were too. You were too.

“We can go on a date now.” He went on. “I can take you to get that spaghetti I was telling you about, after everything opens again. You’ll love it, it’s the best spaghetti I’ve ever had I swear to God. We won’t have to lie to anyone anymore.”

You, out of nowhere, felt your eyes grow hot with tears. You didn’t say anything else, just continuing to kiss him. You hoped if you kissed him enough times he would just know everything you wanted to say this whole time. Your dirty dishes still sat on the counter, forgotten.

///

A few days later, Anders woke up on a Sunday in the best mood he’d been in for days.

Since his conversation with Y/N he’d felt a weight lifted off of his shoulders, but rehashing everything that way adding an entirely different kind of pressure. But today was Sunday, and Sunday’s were good.

On Sunday’s, his parents left the house to go to church. His parents, even in the pandemic, still went and sat with everyone else who was too stupid to stay out of large crowds, and even though that should’ve annoyed him Anders loved it. He didn’t care if his parents brought the virus home. The possibility of dying was worth the 180 minutes he got to spend without them in the house. (His mom no longer asked him to go with them. She actually still hadn’t said a single word to him since he’d gone to Matt’s house).

Anders threw open his door once he heard the car roll out of the driveway, feeling as if he had the entire world at his fingertips. He was wearing a pair of sweats, the same ones he’d had on for 6 days, not bothering to put on a shirt before bouncing down to the kitchen.

His plans for breakfast were foiled as soon as he turned the corner.

“Hey son!” His dad smiled brightly, standing over the stove. He was just pulling out a pan, a carton of eggs out on the counter. “I thought I was gonna have to wake you up.”

“Why are you here?”

He knew he should’ve said something else, but it’s all he could think. In the last 24 years he’d never once seen his dad skip church. Ever.

“I wanted to have breakfast with you.” He said simply. “Are you hungry at all?”

Anders just shook his head. “But it’s Sunday.”

“We can’t have breakfast on a Sunday?”

Anders laughed, deciding to sit in one of the kitchen chairs. He realized that he wasn’t actually upset his dad was here.

“I figured you’d be at church is all.” He explained. “Im starving though.”

His dad just smiled. “Fantastic. Do you want bacon, too?”

Anders, suddenly, was bombarded by memories of Christmas morning when his dad would always make bacon after the gifts were opened. He stopped doing that when Anders was in middle school, but he could still smell it when he really tried. Back before everything was bad all the time.

“Fuck yeah.” Anders said, knowing his dad would chastise him for that but not able to resist pissing his parents off even when he didn’t want to. It was a defect of his he couldn’t help.

His dad turned to look at him, mouth pinched to hide a grin. “Fuck yeah.” His dad agreed, the word sounding bizarre coming out in his voice. Anders threw his head back in a howl of laughter, tears accumulating.

“Did you just say fuck? My father, the Saint?”

His dad was giggling now, the sound almost identical to Anders' own laugh. He’d never noticed that before. “Fuck yeah I did.” He said, only causing them both to giggle harder.

“Fuck yeah, dad! Let it out!”

“Fuck yeah!”

“You can do better than that”

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck yeah!!!”

Anders was in fucking stitches, his sides literally pinching his ribs as he died laughing.

“Feels good doesn’t it?” He asked. His dad nodded enthusiastically.

“It feels good.” He agreed, pulling a pack of bacon out of the fridge. “Feels fucking good.”

“I'm surprised you chose a Sunday to say your first curse with me, dad.” Anders joked. “I'm surprised you’re here at all.”

“Well I am, aren’t I?”

“Just figured you’d be, like, praising the son of god right now. Or whatever.”

His dad was quiet for a second, using the same scissor he always used when Anders was baby Anderson to open the bacon.

“I have my own son to worry about.” He said quietly, looking over his shoulder. He smiled shyly. “You ever make bacon before?”

Of course he had. Everyone had. But for some reason Anders shook his head.

“Can you show me?”

His dad smiled even bigger now. “Yeah! Of course I can! Grab the tongs out of the drawer over there and I’ll get us started.”

“Okay.”

Anders did what he said and grabbed the tongs. He stood next to his dad, feeling awkward but also strangely good. He was almost as tall as his dad. The last time he’d watched his dad cook he had to stand on a chair. Part of him wanted to stand on a chair anyway, just for old times sake. Or maybe he just wanted to feel like baby Anderson again. Baby Anderson never had a care in the world. Baby Anderson’s parents were always crazy about him.

“Moms gonna be pissed at you, huh?” Anders asked, laughing lightly but meaning it. His dad shrugged, turning on one of the burners.

“She can be mad at both of us, then.” He as all he said. “So now we have to wait for the pan to get hot…”

///

“How much shit do you own?” Logan asked, a hand over her eyes to block out the sun above her. Rachel was grabbing another box out of her Range Rover, hobbling up the steps to the door.

“You could help me.” Rachel squeaked, barely managing to make it inside before the box slipped from her fingers. Logan shut the door behind them both, coming up to take Rachel by the waist.

“Why don’t you just stop for a while?” She whispered, pressing a kiss to her girlfriends hair. “Let’s relax. I miss you.”

Rachel only blushed, as always, pushing her hair behind her ears. “I have a lot to unpack.”

“You can unpack tomorrow.”

Rachel looked around the living room, full of boxes and suitcases and all sorts of junk. It was a fucking disaster in here. Rachel’s house, or her parents house, technically, was never dirty. Ever.

Rachel thought maybe she liked it being dirty. She threw the bag off of her shoulder she’d grabbed from the car, letting it land right in middle of the floor. Her heart beat funny at the thought that she’d just leave it there, right in middle of the walkway.

“Tomorrow.” She agreed, leaning into Logan. Logan chirped triumphantly, immediately pulling Rachel to the couch. They both laughed together, happy.

The house was a nightmare, Rachel’s parents wouldn’t talk to her, and she didn’t know what the fuck she was going to do when the pandemic ended and she had to go back to work. She didn’t feel like taking pictures anymore, or doing her hair every time she left the house. She didn’t want to hang out with Margot or Kira, ever again. She had a millions things running through her head, all of them spiraling and twisting and bumping into each other until she couldn’t make sense of a single second of it. For some reason she didn’t mind though.

“You know I was never allowed to have short hair.” She said without knowing why. Logan hummed. “I’ve always wanted to cut it.”

Logan sprang off the couch. “Babe! I used to go to beauty school! I’m, like, so good at cutting hair!”

“You did?”

Logan frowned, her nose scrunching up in the way that always made Rachel feel especially soft. “Well, I went for like a week before I quit. But I am really good at cutting hair! I swear!”

This wasn’t entirely true. Logan had enrolled in beauty school, but never actually went. And she was only decent at cutting hair, at best.

But Rachel couldn’t give a fuck if she was any good at it. “Okay.” She agreed, standing. “Do you think it’ll look good?”

Logan nodded frantically. “Of course! You know what, I’ll cut mine first so you can make sure you like it. Then you can decide.”

Rachel was objecting the best she could but Logan was already in the kitchen, scissors in hand.

(The scissors, funnily enough, we’re the exact same pair Andy’s dad always used for the bacon on Christmas morning.)

Before Rachel could even catch up Logan grabbed a fist full of hair, lobbing it all of just under her chin. Her eyes widened as the blonde strands scattered on the floor. Then, she started laughing. And so did Rachel.

They both laughed until they were crying, making their way to the bathroom with Logan’s hair half to her waist and half to her chin. It only took an hour or so for both of them to be made over, making eye contact through the mirror. Both with matching hair cuts, both equally as drastic. They looked fine, but not great.

“I love it.” Rachel beamed, eyes teary again for a whole new reason. “I love it.”

She shook her head around, watching the bob swing around her face. She looked like a completely different person, someone she’d never met before. She loved it.

“It looks amazing!!” Logan screeched, excitedly bouncing around. “This is amazing!!!”

///

“I didn’t know you had so many tattoos.” Anders’ dad said through a mouthful.

Anders shrugged. “I did that on purpose.” He said honestly, referring to his mostly blank arms and covered chest. (Not covered, but he had a few.)

“They’re cool.” His dad said, making Anders furrow his brow in surprise. “I always wanted to get a tattoo.”

He couldn’t help snorting. This was the best day he’d had in as long as he could remember. Maybe his whole life. “I can’t imagine you with a tattoo.”

“I’ve still got time.” His dad grinned, taking another bite. “Maybe I’ll get one.”

“I’ll take you to get one.” Anders offered, saying it like a joke but not at all kidding. “You could get a face tat, dad. You’d look so fucking sick.”

His dad just shook his head. “What’s that one?” He questioned, pointing to the mysterious blob on his torso. It was on his ribs, just under his heart.

“It was supposed to be a frog.” Anders laughed. “My friend Y/N did it.”

“With a tattoo gun?”

“With a needle.”

His dad didn’t tell him off like he was expecting. “What’s she like?”

His parents never asked about his friends. They’d always hated his friends growing up.

“She’s fuckin sick.” Anders answered, realizing they’d both finished their plates but weren’t getting up. “She’s my best friend.”

“Maybe I can go see her show one day.” His dad said casually. “Or am I too old for that?”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? You could totally go!” Anders gushed. He imagined it, his dad bobbing awkwardly along like dads do. “You could come see Harry, too.”

“Could I come see you?” His dad asked, making Anders’ heart skip a beat. He’d never invited his parents to a show, figuring they wouldn’t want to go. His mom definitely wouldn’t.

“Of course you could.” Anders said. He felt his face get hot. “It would actually mean a lot to me, dad. If you came, I mean.”

His dad smiled to himself, shaking his head. “I can’t believe my kids a rockstar. That’s pretty cool, huh?” His dad chuckled for a second. “Sorry. That’s pretty fucking cool, isn’t it?”

The praise made him embarrassed. “It’s alright.”

“I always wanted to be a rockstar.” His dad mused. He almost didn’t even look like his dad right now. He looked younger somehow. More like a person. “Like Jimi Hendrix, you know? I used to be pretty good at the guitar. Not that good, but I think you’d be impressed if you heard it. I was never as good as you, though.”

For some reason Anders wanted to cry. For every reason and no reason. His dad wanted to be a rockstar. His dad used to be young. He used to want things. He used to have dreams. He felt overwhelmed by the realization that he’d lived an entire life before Anders was born, and part of himself hated the other for ruining his dad's plans. Maybe that was why neither of them liked him for so long.

“I love you, Dad.” Anders said, immediately feeling the need to cry multiply at the embarrassment of saying that out loud. “Thank you for making me breakfast.”

His dad smiled, speechless for a second. “I love you so much, son.” He spoke, his face growing warm in a similar pattern to Anders’. “I always did, even before I met you.”

Anders started crying. His dad stood up, pulling Anders to stand with him. He wrapped him up in his arms and baby Anderson was crying, too.

“I’m gonna fix this. The best I can.” His dad spoke, voice sounding strained through all the sincerity. “We can have breakfast again next week, okay? It can be our thing.”

Anders wiped his eyes. “Won’t mom start to get upset if you don’t go to church?”

His dad wanted to say something, but he didn’t. He shook his head, staying quiet for a long time but not letting his son out of his grip. “I have done this entire thing wrong, for a long time.” He said finally. He gestured between father and son, nearly identical copies of each other. He stopped, shrugging his shoulders. They slanted at the same angle as Anders’. “If your mother wants to be mad at me for fixing my mistakes, she can be. I’m done making her mistakes with her.” He cleared his throat again. “One day she’ll come around. I know she will.”

Anders just nodded, understanding. He didn’t believe what his dad said about his mom, but he believed the rest. He was still sniffling like a child. The front door opened, signaling the end of the moment. Anders quickly rubbed his face clean.

“I’m gonna go.” Anders told him, hating his mom extra for ruining the only good thing that had ever happened to him. His dad nodded knowingly, looking just as upset as Anders did. “I’ve got, like, four guitars in my room if you ever want to borrow one.”

“Okay, son.” His dad smiled, staying put while Anders tip toed out. Just when he was about to reach the living room his dad called his name, making him pause. “I think we should go get those tattoos. If you want another one.”

Anders laughed, resisting the urge to look to his left where his mother was setting down her purse and kicking off her heels. She didn’t look at him either.

“That sounds fucking sick, Dad. You just say the word.”

///

On Sunday, after Anders had made his breakfast with his dad and Logan had cut her hair and Rachel had moved everything she’d ever owned into her new home, Harry was having an equally as exciting day.

He walked down the stairs, having slept in way later than he ever did. He’d been a little miffed when he’d checked his phone, realizing you’d let him spend half his day sleeping. He’d grunted, sitting up. The windows were open, and it smelled like spring today. It felt like spring all over, really, in a way he couldn’t even explain.

By the time he’d made his way to the stairs his bad mood had vanished. He couldn’t be in a bad mood these days if he’d wanted to. How could he be mad at Y/N for letting him sleep in when she was here? How could he be mad at anything when she was here?

Even when he’d heard the voices coming from the lower level of the house as he descended the stairs, he still wasn’t mad. Worried, obviously. But still in a good mood.

“What is happening?” He grumbled, rubbing the sleep from the corners of his eyes. The entire house looked like it had been ransacked, things missing and random men wearing masks walking around. It was more like the opposite of a robbery, Harry noticed, seeing the boxes and random pieces of furniture scattered around. He came to his senses, slowly but surely, taking it all in.

“Baby!!” Y/N shouted, rushing over to him. Before Harry could speak at all she’d covered his eyes with one of her tiny hands, using her other to grip his t-shirt firmly. “You’re not supposed to be awake yet!”

Harry pushed her hand away softly, looking around the room. He took in her subtle disappointment, her lower lip sticking out ever so slightly. (Upon seeing that he actually had to hop off his train of thought to take it between his own lips for a moment). He cleared his sleepy throat.

“What is going on?” He asked again, trying to force both of his eyes to open as he squinted at his girlfriend. She sighed, frowning.

“It was a surprise.” She huffed, crossing her arms. She shook her head, disappointed. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t sleep long enough.”

Harry couldn’t help leaning down and kissing her again, longer this time. He kissed her until she let out that breath she was always holding, her feet relaxing off their tippy toes so she could give all of her attention to him. Harry loved the way she always did that, he thought. He should tell her how nice it is.

Harry forgot about the commotion around them, stopping the conversation entirely for a second to tell Y/N that he loved her so, so, so much. It was true, more so today than ever before. As he continued to kiss her he whispered all the things he’d missed out on saying by staying asleep for so long. He’d wasted so much time, he thought. He could’ve had, like, four more hours with her than he did if he’d woken up earlier. He brushed her hair away from her face, deciding that he wouldn’t tell her about that little breath-holding thing she did when he kissed her just in case she thought too much about it and stopped doing it. He’d die if she stopped doing it, he thought. He knew he would.

“It’s already 10:30.” He said finally when Y/N pulled away from him all too soon to continue pouting. “How late was I supposed to sleep?”

“At least until 12.” She answered seriously, making Harry’s eyes pinched shut with laughter. He didn’t expect her to actually have had a time in mind. “I purposefully kept you up until, like, 3 just so you would sleep in.”

She never ceased to amaze him. “You fuckin’ what?” He giggled, overwhelmed in that moment by how much he loved her. He was so overwhelmed with gratitude towards the universe that he almost felt choked up.

“I had a whole thing planned….” She sighed, shaking her head. “Anders said it wouldn’t work but I just thought….”

Holy shit. “Did you ask Anders to call me last night and keep me up?”

“Yeah. He said he kept you as long as he could…”

Harry couldn’t fucking believe his ears. It was all too perfect. Maybe he was just so delirious with affection that he was missing something, but to him this seemed like the funniest thing in the world. Men still wandered about, moving shit here or there and yelling across the room to each other. Harry didn’t even hear them.

“What was the master plan, huh?” Harry asked, completely oblivious but not even minding it.

“The plan was to keep you up as long as I could before having Anders call you and keep you up longer so I could sleep and wake up early and you’d be extra sleepy.”

(Harry had spoken to Andy for three and a half hours last night. About literally nothing. Harry figured Anders was in one of those moods where he just didn’t want to be alone and he’d forced himself to stay up as long as he could so he could be there for him. Turns out it was just a silly little trick and not a mental breakdown at all, which was nice.)

“And why am I supposed to be so sleepy?” Harry asked, pulling Y/N into his chest. He looked around again, realizing it wasn’t just new furniture being delivered here but Y/N’s furniture from home. Y/N’s makeup table. Her bean bag chair she never let anyone else but him use. A box with Logan’s handwriting on the side labeled ‘winter clothes’. He looked closer, realizing all at once what was going on. “What’s happening?” He asked again before Y/N could answer his first question. He pushed her back so he could see her face, heart beating erratically. “What is all of this?”

Y/N just huffed. “It’s my stuff from home. Or some of it, at least.”

Harry heard himself gasp, Y/N confirming what he already knew. He looked around again, and it was true. It was her stuff from home.

“I was going to ask if it was okay, but then I just decided to go for it. It was supposed to be a surprise once everything was, like, unpacked and everything…” She grimaced, eyeing Harry nervously. “You’re mad, aren’t you? I know I should’ve asked, I just got carried away-“

“Mad?” Harry laughed, both hands coming to cover his mouth as he looked around. He let his head fall forward, his eyes closing. He recovered, looking up again. “This is all your stuff?”

“Most of it.” She nodded, looking uneasy. “Is that okay? I just thought since we’re moved in together…”

“Moved in together?”

“No, I mean- I just meant-“ Her cheeks flushed bright red, her eyes widening. Harry also loved it when she did that, when she got super embarrassed and made that face she always made. He didn’t tell her how much he loved that, either, just so she would always do it. “Like, living together.”

He couldn’t believe his fucking eyes. She’d had all of this shit brought to fucking London from LA, she’d gone through the trouble of getting her own movers and even conspired against Harry so he’d be surprised when it was all done. She brought winter clothes. For winter. He couldn’t help it when his eyes started to sting and he teared up. His throat was tight suddenly.

“This is amazing, baby.” He choked out, smiling the best he could at her. Her shoulders relaxed, her own smile replacing the worry on her face. “I… I can’t believe you did all of this.”

“I was so worried you’d be mad.” She gasped, taking a deep breath as she deflated. She giggled, relieved. “I was up all night getting ready and I almost called the whole thing off….”

“How early were you awake?” Harry asked incredulously. It was all too good to be true.

“I told Anders to call me thirty minutes after you guys got off the phone and you were out like a light.” She admitted, looking embarrassed though Harry couldn’t for the life of him understand why. “So like, 3:45 I think. Somewhere around there.”

Harry choked on his next breath, having to turn away for a second to compose himself. He was still a mess when he turned around to face the amazing, chaotic, beautiful girl before him. He pulled her back to him, hugging her tightly. He felt like a little kid on Christmas.

“Thank you.” He whispered, burrying his face in his hair. She did the thing she always did where she tells him not to thank her, but he did the thing he always did and ignored her. “This means so much to me, baby. This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done.”

She didn’t say anything else, just taking his face and pulling his mouth to hers. He loved the way she kissed him, he thought. Like she was trying to tell him something.

“Now you’re stuck with me.” She snickered into his lips, thinking she was being cheeky. But as she said it all Harry could think was that this meant she really was going to stay. She wasn’t going anywhere, at least until winter. He choked back the emotion that threatened to bring him to his knees, pushing his hands into Y/N’s hair as he kissed her. He kissed her the way she always did, like she was telling him something. And with every kiss Harry was saying to her, in his own silent way, everything he’d ever wanted to.

Thank you for not leaving me, he told her. Thank you for being the person who stuck around. Thank you for waiting for me. Thank you for forgiving me. Thank you for letting me grow when I needed to. Thank you for loving me even when you hated me. Thank you for being here. Thank you for bringing winter clothes. Thank you for making me feel like Harry, without the rest. Thank you for staying. Thank you for staying. Thank you for staying. I love you, I love you, I love you.

And then Y/N did that thing she always did where she gasped for breath between kisses, thinking Harry didn’t hear the way she had to gulp for air. He thought about slowing down, about letting her catch her breath, but he selfishly liked the way she gasped like that. He liked everything about her. He liked the way she gasped and the way she said his name and the way she would say “pleeeease” when he had her really wound up. He liked the way her hands felt on his stomach. He liked the way her legs felt over his, the way her stomach moved when she breathed really hard. He liked the way her cheeks started to turn pink all the way up to her ears and down her neck.

“Come here.” He mumbled to her, trying to maintain the kiss as he pulled her through the mess towards the stairs. They both stumbled their way across, tripping over a box they hadn’t noticed. It only took them a second to be wound together again, tumbling up the stairs like they were drunk or high or dizzy.

“You know I love you, right?” Y/N panted, reaching for the doorknob behind her. Harry had his hands around her waist, keeping her against him. He moved his kisses to her neck, mumbling an mhmm.

“Tell me again so I don’t forget.” He pleaded, throwing the door closed behind them once they’d made their way into the room. “Tell me again.”

“I love you.” She whispered. They bumped into the edge of the bed, tumbling onto their new bedspread that had just arrived a few days earlier.

“Again.”

“I love you.”

Harry pushed her body down so she was laying, situating himself between her legs. His heart was pounding out of his chest, with excitement and an indescribable fondness. He was overwhelmed again by how much he liked her. She smelled like strawberries today, just like the lotion she’d gotten in the mail from her mom. Harry breathed her in, overwhelmed. Forever overwhelmed.

“I love you, too.” He rasped to her, “You know that, yeah? You know how much I love you?”

“Yes, baby.”

“No you don’t.” He giggled. “You have no idea. No idea.”

He remembered saying something like that to her at the house party a lifetime ago. It was still true.

Harry realized suddenly why he must have taken her up here. He must have known the entire time what he was about to do. His stomach flipped, considering it. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes extra tight as if to hide himself, though Y/N wouldn’t have noticed.

“Baby…” He managed to force out, “Sunflower….”

“What baby?”

He wanted to say it so bad. It was just there, behind his front teeth. His heart stuttered for a second.

“Can I show you have much I love you, sunflower?” He whispered, not able to say it any louder. “I want to show you how much I love you. I need to show you.”

The sound Y/N made was enough to put Harry in the dirt. She chirped like a little bird, a short giggle following. Everything felt lighthearted and easy. She hummed into the kiss, letting the sound turn into a soft moan.

“I want you to show me.” She whispered back. “I love you so much, baby. I want you to show me.”

She mumbled it all, broken up between kisses. She told him again that she loved him, saying it over and over again as the curtain next to the bed whipped around in the breeze. Harry believed her entirely, and he was scared and excited and awestruck and giddy all at once.

He was finally going to do it, he thought to himself. It was finally happening. He thought about backing out again, but Y/N did that thing again where she slides her hand under his shirt and touches his belly. The butterflies under her fingers flapped harder and Harry folded immediately. He was so nervous he almost felt blinded by it. He took a hand and placed it over hers where she touched him, just under the tattoo.

“I’m nervous.” He said out loud even though he didn’t want to. She tried to remove her hand but he pressed it down harder so it wouldn’t leave.

“Sorry-“

“I want it there.” He whispered. “I always wanted to tell you I like it when you touch me like that.”

He wanted to keep that to himself, like all the other secret little things she did and had no idea about, but it just came out. He supposed she could know about one of her little things, at least. He could keep everything else for himself, which was more than enough.

///

It was while you and Harry were whispering all these sweet little things to each other that the world, already turned upside down, flipped even further. Sunday wasn’t over yet, after all, and that same outside force that pushed Rachel to leave her home and cut her hair, the same propulsion that pushed Anders to tell his dad he loved him, the same hand that guided Harry and yourself up the stairs…. It was moving someone else, too. Right to your doorstep. The one in LA, at least.

That outside force came in the form of a hard knock on the front door of the house you’d paid for but hadn’t been to in weeks. Logan and Rachel were already knee deep in an episode of New Girl, making it a particularly bad time for visitors, even more so than the pandemic.

Logan shuffled to the door, annoyed. She’d been alone and totally fucking bored out of her mind with nothing to do for weeks but now that Rachel was here she suddenly had a million things that needed her attention. As minor as it was, she was still pissed.

But when she opened the door, she didn’t know what to feel. Immediately she was hit with the smell of beer and cigarette smoke. She felt everything at once.

“What in the ever living fuck are you doing here?” She asked. The visitor nearly tipped over, eyes glazed. He shrugged.

“I came to- fucking shit-“ The guest spoke, steadying himself on the wall with an outstretched arm. His hair had grown out since the VMAs, and it looked like shit. “I came to talk to Y/N. Is she here?”

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