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mackenzielovee · 2 years

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sixth sense: part ten

synopsis: "He’s here somewhere, probably looming in the shadows and waiting for his perfect moment."

warnings: swearing, kissing, mentions of sexual acts, domestic violence, death threats, degrading name calling, allusion to sexual assault. please do not read if DV will trigger you.

wc: 4.4k

a/n: it's a doozy but it's important. please read at your discretion! i hope despite the darker topics, you all still enjoy some of it. thanks for reading xoxo

series masterlist

The week passes you by. Between Rafe and another exam coming up in the class you share, you both remain together — studying at the library, at your apartment in between makeout sessions, or at Rafe’s frat house. You both seem to find it easier being at your apartment, because it’s quieter and more private. On Tuesday, he leaves a toothbrush next to yours and asks if it can remain there. On Wednesday, you both go to the library to focus. On Thursday, Rafe comes over after work and eats you out on the floor of your living room.

Friday is the day you dread, because it means work. It means showing up at the bar and serving drinks for hours, all while waiting on Rafe to come around. He has to work Friday during the day, and you kiss him goodbye from your front door in the early morning hours. Around four, you get ready for work, and by five, you’re clocking in for the evening rush.

“Don’t look so thrilled there, slacker,” Jamie grunts when you enter the office to clock in.

“What?” “You bailed out of your shift last Friday. You back together with Campbell?” he asks.

You narrow your eyes, watching the way he doesn’t even bother to look up from his paperwork.

“No,” you say slowly, “Why would you think that?”

Jamie shrugs, “Just wondering who’s gonna be paying your bills if you keep giving your shifts away. That’s all.”

You bite down on your tongue and finish clocking in, then make way for the door immediately.

“None of your fucking business,” you mutter.

“What was that?”

When you turn around, you find Jamie now standing. He towers over you, and even though you know you could crush him, you can’t lose your job.

“Nothing,” you mumble.

“That’s what I thought. God, if Campbell comes in tonight, I’ll be sure to let him know you need some fucking sense knocked into you. Pull your shirt down and get out there.”

The thought of Campbell knocking sense into you draws you back a step, and the water that invades your eyes doesn’t arrive at your own volition. His words make you think of every tug at the back of your neck, every harsh word, every time he wrapped his hand around your throat and squeezed. Although you’d learned not to take Jamie’s words to heart, these hurt you more than they ever have.

“The fuck are you waiting on?” he snaps, “Go on.”

Your jaw clenches but you do as instructed and leave the back office, hurrying out to find Bryn at the bar.

“Hey,” she grins, “I can’t wait to hear all about the dinner— are you okay?”

You nod quickly, trying your best to keep the anxiety brewing in your chest at bay.

“I’m fine,” you tell her.

“Y/N—”

“Has Campbell been in this week?”

Bryn’s eyebrows furrow, “I haven’t seen him. Why? Did he do something?”

You shake your head, giving her a fake smile that turns real when you feel the tears drain from your eyes.

“No, sorry, everything’s good,” you say, “Let me fill you in.”

It’s eleven-thirty when you feel it. When you feel that sense —- that sixth sense you’re sure you have by now, coming out to play. He’s here somewhere, probably looming in the shadows and waiting for his perfect moment. You’re pouring a shot as the shiver runs down your spin, your mind wandering and wandering until you swear you can feel his hands around your neck—

“Shit, Y/N,” Bryn cries, “Chill out!”

You’d poured about four shots worth of vodka into one shot glass, leading to vodka covering the counter and dripping onto the floor.

“Sorry,” you mumble, absentmindedly handing off the shot, “I’ll clean it up.”

Bryn just shakes her head, as if she never expected you to clean it in the first place, and covers the floor in paper towels.

“Are you okay?” she asks, her voice filled with concern.

You move to confess, to tell her what you think is happening, when your eyes catch on him. On that backwards cap and those deep blue eyes. On that radiant smile and the sleeve of tattoos peeking out from under his short sleeve shirt.

I’m in love with you, is all you seem to be able to think, and you’re sure the grin that spreads across your lips expresses that completely.

“I’m great,” you admit, “I’ll be right back.”

You hurry over to him, rushing from behind the bar and into his arms before he even has time to process what you’re doing. You know he didn’t expect you to do that, but you don’t care. Your senses had been about him, you’re sure of it. You’d been getting that feeling because Rafe had arrived, and now that you feel him, smell him, you seem to relax.

“Hi,” you smile up at him.

“Hi, baby,” he grins, keeping one arm tight around you, “You okay?”

“I’m great. Want a drink?”

“No,” he smirks, “Want a kiss.”

“Oh, shit, Bryn, can you hand me a bucket or something to throw up in?” Topper calls from beside Rafe, leaning over the bar and waving to get Bryn’s attention.

She rolls her eyes at him, making no move to do what he’d asked. You just laugh at Topper and stand up on your tiptoes, giving him a slow and gentle kiss.

You pull back with a smile, then look around to greet the rest of Rafe’s friends. When Topper is the only one you locate, you look up at him through furrowed brows.

“It’s just the two of us tonight,” he explains, “Some of the guys went to a party at one of the other frats.”

You give him a small, pouty smile, “You could’ve gone, too.”

Although you’re glad he didn’t, you don’t want him to feel like he always has to come here if he doesn’t want to. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Bryn step over to Topper, who smirks and asks what her favorite thing to drink is.

“Nah,” Rafe shrugs, “I wanted to see you, and Top wanted to flirt with Bryn, so we’re fine.”

You smile, rising up to your tip-toes to give him a kiss, when you feel it. The hair on the back of your neck stands tall as your breathing grows shallow. Just as Rafe’s lips skim yours, you turn around, attempting to find the source of your discomfort.

Rafe’s grip tightens on the back of your shirt as you look around, but you see nothing out of the ordinary. The bar looks the same as it always does.

“You sure you’re okay?” Rafe asks again.

When you turn back, his eyes are on you, expression filled with concern as he begs you to tell him what’s going on. For a second, you start to, but give him a warm and convincing smile instead.

“Yes,” you reply, “Sorry. I want my kiss.”

“Yes ma’am,” he teases, wasting no more time.

He maintains the kiss while your paranoia remains, keeping you from fully engaging with him. More or less, you stand there and let him kiss you, doing nothing to fuel it, and when he pulls back, you register that same concern.

“I should get back,” you mumble weakly, “Let me know if you want a drink, okay?”

“Okay, baby,” he nods.

The crease in his brow and the narrowing of his eyes tells you he’ll be keeping a closer watch on you than usual, but tonight, you’re okay with that. You give Bryn a small smile and try to relax, ignoring that pit in your stomach that doesn’t seem to go away.

It’s nearly one-thirty in the morning when Bryn hobbles up to you, looking more exhausted than usual. She’d taken the brunt of the work for you without even saying so, because she could tell you were bothered. She never asked again, but the look in your eye told her that you needed it desperately.

Topper had gotten even more intoxicated since his arrival — thanks to Bryn. She’d loaded him up on Blue Hawaiians and laughed when he told her he was in love with her. Rafe’s eyes are on you more often than not, and each time you see him, you try to give him a convincing smile. It doesn’t work.

“You should go,” Bryn tells you, giving you a soft smile.

“I’m fine to stay,” you reply, keeping your eyes down on the shot glasses in front of you.

“Y/N,” she says, earning your attention, “You look like hell. Go home and relax. Have amazing sex or take a bath or something. I’ve got it from here.”

“Bryn—”

“I mean it.”

You sigh, letting your shoulders fall, but ultimately nod. Her hand meets your arm and takes the handle of vodka from you, then nods her head in the direction of the back office.

You take a step away, ready to clock out and escape this place, when you turn to find Rafe. It’s one of the few moments that he’s not looking at you, but instead trying to keep Topper upright. You shake your head at him, and just as you move to turn around, you spot another familiar set of eyes.

One second is all it takes for you to gasp and draw back, and clear as day, Campbell disappears into the sea of people once again. You take a step forward, your instincts telling you to find him and tell him to fuck off, when Jamie steps in front of you.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I’m—” you stop and look up, unable to find any sign of Campbell, “Nothing. I’m leaving.”

“Your shift doesn’t end until two,” he remarks, but before you can argue, he shrugs, “Just go. You didn’t bring too much in tonight, anyway.”

You clench your jaw but turn and walk away from him before he can change his mind. Quickly, you clock out and grab your stuff before making your way back out to Rafe, who looks like he’s one second away from punching Topper in the face.

“You’re being a fucking asshole, bro, I want another drink,” Topper slurs, trying to step around Rafe.

“You’re done,” Rafe informs him calmly, gripping Topper’s wrist in his palm.

“Fuck you,” Topper grunts.

“Yeah, fuck you, too,” Rafe rolls his eyes, looking over and catching sight of you with your stuff, “Hey. I thought you had a little longer to go?”

You shake your head, “I’m good to leave.”

“Oh, fantastic,” Topper cuts in, “So fuckin’ glad. Your boyfriend’s been super worried.”

Rafe clenches his jaw, “Shut up.”

“You shut up—” Topper rebutts, shoving Rafe’s shoulder.

Rafe looks pissed, but he doesn’t take it out on Topper. Instead, he grips his best friend by the collar of his shirt and then turns to you, giving you a gentle but forced smile.

“I’m gonna take him home,” he says, “Come with?”

Topper rolls his eyes, desperate to break free of Rafe’s grip but unable to do so because his balance is so far off. When he can’t, he looks over at you and narrows his eyes. Although you know Topper is just drunk, your head feels too fragile to be around his behavior.

“I’m just gonna go home, I think,” you reply, “It’s late and I’m tired.”

Rafe frowns, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you nod, “Need me to call you guys an Uber?”

“No, I’ll do that, baby. I’m just a little worried about you—”

“Holy shit, dude, she’s fine,” Topper groans, “Can you fucking let go of me?”

You take a step closer to Rafe and place your hand on his cheek, watching as he relaxes under your touch.

“I’m fine, I promise. I just need to recharge. I’ll call you in the morning.”

He turns into your hand, kissing your palm lightly, “Okay, I get it. But I have a counter proposal.”

You smile, “What is it?”

“Call me when you get home,” he requests, “Just so I know you’re safe and okay. We don’t have to talk for a while, I just want to know so I can sleep.”

“I will,” you promise.

“Let me walk you out,” he says, letting go of Topper and glaring at him, “Don’t—”

“I’ve got him,” Bryn sighs from behind the bar, earning all of your attention.

Rafe gives her a grateful smile, “Thanks.”

You take his hand, a very big part of you grateful that he wants to walk you to your car. You hold your breath as he leads you through the crowd and over to the doors, your eyes frantically searching the sea of people for one in particular.

Rafe holds the door open and lets you walk through first, not releasing your hand as both of you maneuver out. You let out a breath of relief when there’s not a man leaning against your car, waiting on you.

“You sick of me?” he teases, stealing a glance over at you.

“Rafe, no,” you protest, “Not at all. I just feel really weird, I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Physically or mentally?”

Your grip tightens around his hand at the same moment you look over at him, dying to tell him how much you appreciate that question. He’s making an effort to understand, and for that, you’re thankful.

“Mentally,” you admit, “I’m probably just tired.”

He brings your tangled hands up to his lips then, leaving a kiss on the outside of your palm.

“Get some rest and call me in the morning, okay?”

You nod, stopping in front of your car, “And tonight?”

He shrugs shyly, “I’m greedy, what can I say?”

Your smile blossoms immediately and without force, and before you know it, you’re tugging on his tee shirt to pull him down to you.

“I’ll call,” you swear, brushing your lips against his.

“I’d appreciate that,” he whispers, smirking just before he kisses you.

You smile into the kiss, and after another minute, you pull back.

“Goodnight,” you say.

“Goodnight, baby.”

He takes one step back, then two, and stops. He grins shyly as he watches you get into your car and waves as you pull away. Some part of you doesn’t want to leave him, especially as you watch him fade in your rear view, but you feel too weird to be around him tonight. Chalking it up to exhaustion, you make a plan to pick up food on your way home and eat, then crash and sleep until you wake up in the morning.

Surprisingly, the line at McDonald's was long. You’d sat and waited for almost twenty minutes before driving out of the parking lot with a bag of greasy goodness, swallowing down a few fries on the way home. You’re sure Rafe is home by now, anxiously waiting for you to dial him up and tell him you’re home safe.

You climb the stairs and hurry down the hall, already pulling Rafe’s contact up. You’re practically dying to hear his voice, to picture him laying in his bed, shirtless, with a smile on his face as he says goodnight and wishes you were in his bed. The thought makes you smile as you turn your key in the lock and push open the door.

You don’t immediately register your living room light being on, although you never leave the house without shutting off all the lights. You turn to lock the door behind you and make your way through the entryway, too busy juggling keys, food, and phone to notice him.

“He lets you eat that shit?”

Your heart sinks to your feet as you register the slight rasp. You turn your head and meet his eyes, finding no mercy, no grace, no warmth in them at all. Losing control, your phone and food bag tumble out onto the floor, but the sound isn’t registered with you.

“What—” you stutter, shaking your head in disbelief, “What are you— How did you get in?”

Campbell smirks and stands from his seat on the couch, “It’s like you’ve forgotten what I used to tell you. That food will make you fat, Y/N.”

“How did you get in here, Campbell?” you repeat, backing away from him.

“Your super gave me your key,” he shrugs, “I told him I wanted to surprise you for our anniversary. You remembered, didn’t you?”

You shake your head slightly, unable to swallow even though your throat is crying out with how dry it is.

“We don’t have an anniversary,” you mumble weakly, “We’re broken up.”

He chuckles sarcastically, “You certainly think that, don’t you? I saw you kiss him in the parking lot before he let you leave alone.”

“He’s not a babysitter,” you snap bravely, recoiling immediately when he takes another step forward.

“He’s not?” Campbell quips, “What is he, then? A chauffeur? A sugar daddy? A quick fuck? Tell me what he is to you, Y/N. Say it.”

With another step, your back hits the wall. With even-timed paces and a jaw wound tightly, Campbell boxes you in, watching as you struggle to get a full breath in. You swear you can hear your heart pounding in your chest, silently begging him not to hurt you.

When you don’t respond to his demand, he slams his palm against the wall beside your head. You wince and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to make yourself as small as possible so that maybe, just maybe, you’ll fall through the floor.

“I asked you a fucking question,” he hisses, “Tell me what he is to you.”

“Boyfriend,” you blurt, popping your eyes back open, “He’s my boyfriend.”

He purses his lips and nods slowly, letting his eyes wander around you. You squirm, desperate to figure out a way to get away from him, to run and hide or dial 911.

“You won’t last with a guy like that,” he mutters, “He’s too nice for you. You’ll get bored of the golden retriever game quickly, I promise you that.”

“Why do you care?” you ask, your voice still sounding weak and fragile.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean,” you sigh, “It’s not like you were faithful to me when we were together. You treated me like shit, like a whore—”

Campbell’s motion is sudden. So sudden, in fact, that the gasp you try to let out in response gets stuck in the constriction of your throat. His palm meets your throat and squeezes; his eyes dark and hateful.

“You are a whore,” he growls, “And you fucking love being treated like one. Are you enjoying your vanilla sex with the inexperienced frat boy?”

You claw at his chest, anger finally blooming inside of you. You push and shove, trying to get him off of you, when he lifts you up off the ground and slams your head back against the wall. You continue scratching him, and when your leg comes up to kick him, his grip around your throat loosens.

“The sex isn’t vanilla,” you spit, just to piss him off, “And he’s far from inexperienced.”

“Is that right?” Campbell asks, his jaw ticking as he debates squeezing again.

“Oh, yeah,” you continue, “You know what else? He goes down on me every chance he gets. Says he’s trying to make up for all the times I faked it with you.”

You know it’s a risk. You know it’s probably a bad move. But a part of you thinks that if he’s going to stand here and do this, you should be able to say your piece, too. He laughs incredulously, and when his hands grip your throat tightly again, you aren’t surprised. You struggle as you did before, doing your best to break free while trying to revel in the pissed off expression he holds.

“You think you faked it with me, sweetheart?” he asks, “Is that what you told him to make him feel better? Trust me, you didn’t fake shit. Want me to prove it?”

Just as his free hand grabs your belt buckle, intent on removing it, a loud knock sounds on your front door. Campbell immediately covers your mouth with his hand, letting you breathe through your nose for the time being as he keeps you quiet.

“Y/N? Baby?”

You squeeze your eyes closed as tears well up in your eyes. Rafe’s voice calms you even in this position, where Campbell’s hand presses even harder into your face to prevent you from calling out to him.

“God, he’s incessant,” Campbell mutters, “What the fuck do you see in him?”

You ball up your fist at your side, but before you can move, you hear the key twist in the lock. Your eyes widen slightly just as Campbell’s do, realizing Rafe still has that spare key. You hear Rafe step inside and close the door behind him, and when he sees the McDonald’s bag on the floor beside your phone, he calls out again.

“Y/N!”

Your knee meets Campbell’s groin right then, and when he hunches over in pain, his hand falls from your mouth. He stumbles back just enough that you get out from behind him, remaining cautious of his movements as you do so.

“Rafe,” you call out, looking up to find him in the center of the living room.

His eyes take in the scene in front of him only briefly before grabs ahold of you and places you behind him, both of you watching as Campbell straightens himself out.

“Son of a bitch,” Cambell grunts.

Rafe feels you tense in his grip at the sound of Campbell’s voice, and instinctively, he pulls you closer to him by your shirt.

“Tell me you didn’t just have your hand around her throat,” Rafe says calmly, his voice deep, “Tell me you weren’t trying to fucking kill her. Again.”

At the sound of Campbell’s sarcastic laugh, Rafe’s eyes narrow, and an expression you’ve never seen on him crosses his face.

“So what if I was?” Campbell shrugs, “It’s not like you—”

Before you can even process it, Rafe’s across the room, slamming Campbell into the wall and placing his own hand around his neck. Judging by the shocked expression on Campbell’s face, you know he hadn’t expected that to happen. Your eyes bulge as Rafe’s grip tightens, and Campbell wheezes as he struggles for breath.

“Rafe—” you start, stepping forward, but his voice stops you.

“How does that fucking feel?” Rafe asks, raising his voice, “Is this fun for you? No? You get off from this, you arrogant piece of shit?”

“Rafe!” you repeat, setting your hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him, make him stop, “Rafe, listen—”

“How could you do this to her?” Rafe questions him, his voice cracking slightly, “How could you put your hand around her little throat and squeeze? How could you watch her cry, or leave marks on her neck and just be okay with that?”

“Rafe,” you try again, your voice softer now, “Hey. I’m okay. Please let go.”

“I should kill you,” Rafe growls, watching Campbell’s eyes grow even wider as he becomes desperate for breath, I should watch you choke and gasp and fucking beg to live.”

You gasp at the same moment Campbell does, but for different reasons. Campbell continues to claw at Rafe’s hands, doing his best to try and get him off but not having even a slim chance.

The sound of Campbell’s attempts at inhalation fills the room, and for a long moment, it’s all you hear. You can feel your brain trying to figure out what to do, and even in the haze of the events of the night, you still know you trust Rafe to handle it.

“But, I won’t,” Rafe mutters, releasing his grip only slightly, “Because I’m not like you. But I swear to God, if you ever touch my girlfriend again, I will fucking kill you. And I won’t think twice about it, either. Clear?”

Campbell smirks, “Clear.”

His voice comes out harsh, rough, like it’s obvious he’s struggled for breath. After another few seconds, Rafe releases him completely, knocking him into the wall as he lets go.

Campbell coughs violently and repeatedly, hunching over as he fights to catch his breath. Rafe’s chest heaves with anger as he breathes in and out, not allowing his eyes to leave Campbell even once.

After a few seconds, Campbell stands straight and ceases coughing; instead, opting to smirk. With a quiet chuckle, he speaks.

“Oh, so the dog can do tricks, huh, Y/N? If you tell him to sit, does he do it?”

Rafe’s fist meets Campbell’s face without another word. You gasp, your left hand covering your mouth as you watch Rafe grab the back of Campbell’s blazer and drag him toward the front door.

“Don’t give me a reason, man,” Rafe says lowly, “I’ll take anything I can get if it means I get to beat the shit out of you.”

Campbell’s bloody nose prevents him from speaking; his hand over his mouth muffling any words that he may say. Rafe opens the front door and shoves him out, watching as he hits the cement wall on the other side of the hallway.

“You want her so fucking bad?” Campbell grunts, “Take her. Her pussy’s not worth this.”

You shut your eyes at that, still rooted on the hardwood where you stand. You try not to think about how he’d reached for your belt buckle, and how you could be in a very different situation now if it weren’t for Rafe.

You hear him chuckle, “Yeah, it is.”

The door closes and locks, and just as Rafe hurries around the corner where you can see him, you crack. He watches as your lip quivers and little whimpers start to escape you as you process what had just happened; how you’d felt that something was off and you should’ve gone home with Rafe.

His face falls as he hurries across the room, wasting no time getting over to you. Just as a sob escapes your lips, he engulfs you in a hug, wrapping you up tight. You tuck your chin right into his chest, inhaling his scent and letting it calm you down, as it does.

“You’re okay,” he whispers, his own voice thick with emotion, “You didn’t call. You didn’t call, baby.”

You know he’s trying to tell you why he came; that he wasn’t trying to be pushy or clingy, but that he knew. He felt your danger the same way you’d felt it all night, and for that, you only squeeze him tighter. His cotton shirt dries up your tears as he holds you, content on doing it all night if that’s what you need.

Tags:

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theycallme-thejackal · 1 year

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One MidgeLenny x TSwift Fic Per Day

178. Forever & Always

Night after night, Midge finds herself staring at the phone.

It makes her feel pathetic. She’s used to men pursuing her. She was easily the most beautiful girl in her class at Bryn Mawr. Joel pursued her even as she continuously rebuffed him. Benjamin was eventually unable to resist her. Declan Howell. Even the guy from the park whose name she can’t be bothered to remember recently sought her out.

Once upon a time, she would have put Lenny Bruce in that category. Because he did pursue her. He invited her out in Miami. He asked her to dance. He looked at her with those dark eyes and asked to see her show corset and told her on the most prestigious stage in the country that she had the ability to break his fucking heart.

And she hasn’t heard from him since.

What the hell happened? She thought something was finally happening. For so long, she was afraid that if she had sex with Lenny Bruce, that would be the end. She’d lose someone who became incredibly important to her, and all for one night.

Well, it was one incredible night, but she wonders now if it was worth the radio silence. If she had just slept on the couch or tried to brave the storm, would Lenny still be in her life?

Mama and Papa are upstate at a wedding Mama matched. The kids are with Joel and Mei. So tonight, Midge has a date with a bottle of wine and a quiet phone.

Which is already ringing when she walks into the apartment.

She drops her bag unceremoniously by the door and rushes to the living room. She feels ridiculous. The odds of it being him are slim to none. But if it is him, and she misses it...

“Hello?”

“Christ, is your elevator broken? Why are you out of breath?”

She laughs, a combination of genuine humor and sheer relief. Finally, after weeks, she’s hearing his voice. “I thought the call might be important, and it was already ringing when I got inside,” she answers.

“Nope. Just an old jailbird calling for a chat,” he quips.

“From which precinct?”

“Actually I’m calling from my mother’s house. If it weren’t for my kid being here, I’d actually prefer Varick.”

“Better than the eighth, I hear,” she replies with a grin.

“You haven’t had the pleasure yet?”

“Nope. I’ve been a very good girl since you last saw me.” She hears him chuckle and then says, “So your mother’s house? Bellmore?”

“Uh, no,” he answers. “She moved to Los Angeles a few years ago, so I’ve been hiding from the sun for the last six weeks.”

“Los Angeles,” she repeats, trying to hide her sadness. “That’s far.”

“It is,” he agrees. “But I’m headed back for the east coast in a few days, and I was thinking...”

Midge bites her lip as she smiles. “Yes?”

“If you’re not too angry with me for yelling at you and then disappearing...”

“Yes?” She repeats. Just say it already, she thinks.

“Maybe I could take you to dinner?” He finally asks.

Her smile grows wider. “I would love that. When do you get back?”

“If I don’t tell you, I can still surprise you with one of my patented sneak attacks,” he points out.

Midge purses her lips for a moment, debating whether or not to pull out the big guns. "Well, if you do tell me, I can be sure to wear a show corset in your favorite color.”

There’s a long pause, and he finally answers, “Friday. Sometime in the afternoon.”

She grins. “I have a gig Friday. I’m working again.”

“I heard. And I hear you’re very, very funny.”

Midge feels herself blush. “I’m on at eight. Dinner after?”

“It’s a date.”

She smiles again. She has the feeling it’s going to be a pretty permanent state for her for a while. “Yes, it is.”

#midgelenny #midge x lenny #midgexlenny #tmmm fanfic #marvelous mrs. maisel fanfic #otp: more important than god #jackal fics #mltswift

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queerpyracy · 4 months

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A Great and Heavenly Tree for the WIP game?

This is the project formerly known as untitled space vikings project! also found here

Our setting is the starship Árvakr’s Light, a living vessel composed primarily of a truly massive species of tree called an axis tree. The ship is an ecosystem unto itself, centuries in the making, and nearing its retirement when it will be planted in its home soil once more, so that it may fruit and die, and the crew members which have been buried in its roots over its long service will not be trapped in the outer reaches of the gap.

Our heroes are:

Bryn, standoffish and isolated, who works in the root chamber of Árvakr’s Light, tending to the health of the axis tree. They are popularly rumored to be a witch, best avoided.

Heimir, Bryn's companion, which they made from the wood of nine different trees, whose mushroom-made face is so uncomfortably lifelike people whisper that Bryn stole a dead man's skin for it.

Hrafn, a star mapper who studied astronomy with a famed scholar in the southeast, and with whom he was more closely involved than was at all ethical.

Here's a selection from Bryn and Hrafn's meeting, which I feel it necessary to point out is happening at the funeral of Hrafn's uncle, and that he has just been told explicitly he ought to stay away from Bryn:

He sees Bryn again, standing uncomfortably in the space near the grave, seeming not to know what to do with themself. A witch, he thinks, ought to be more at ease.

He makes his way over, picking up another horn from someone else. “I know you said you don’t like crowds,” he says, “but if you’ll stay—share a drink and a dance with me?”

Bryn looks surprised, and after a moment they take the horn. When they lift it, holding his gaze, a bit of ale runs from the corner of their mouth, and Hrafn has to fight the urge to lean in and catch it with his tongue.

Bryn seems more at ease once they’re out among the dancers, and certainly Hrafn is more at ease once has a little more drink in him. They move together and around each other, and the closer he draws Bryn in the closer they hold to him. Horns pass in and out of their hands, and Hrafn has no idea how much either of them has drunk when he leans in to kiss them. Bryn sucks in a breath against his mouth, their arms sliding around his neck. Grasping them by the waist, Hrafn picks Bryn up to spin them around, and they give a surprised shout and a laugh.

Easy to lose track of time in a starship, easy to not know how long you’ve been dancing with someone, especially when the torches are lit to keep the chamber bright even when the light from the fruit of the axis begins to fade in slumber. All he knows is that he’s less steady on his feet and Bryn’s cheeks are quite a bit rosier than they were before when he asks if they want to find somewhere more quiet.

#wips tag #space vikings tag

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rithmeres · 11 months

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Hello Bryn so I started following you for your Trigun art (love love love ‘em) but your spring rolls pic just gave me so much personal and Trigun feels… sorry I’m about to ramble.

So my good friend is Viet and we lived together during Covid lockdown. We made and ate SO MUCH Viet food. It really is a whole event. A participatory art. I live alone now and I miss eating as a communal ritual.

Which reminds me of that Stampede scene where Vash finally started eating again “I deserve to eat, right?” They were eating together too—all of them, including the three random dudes that were on the sideline. There’s just something so natural and comforting about sharing meals; it’s making me kind of sad because Vash often had to eat alone (ex. when he first came to ship 3 and when he roamed around the desert). Vash was hungry for a family/community and now I can see that being one of the points of episode 4.

Happy eating together!!!

i feel the same way 😭😭 sharing food isn’t just about food, it’s healing. to be welcomed in, to be looked after, to participate together in the creation and consumption of what makes us so human

my roommate of four years was viet (i can’t even call her a roommate, we were so much more than that, she’s family) and she helped teach me how to cook and for us food wasn’t just what we ate, it was what we did. it was how we loved.

i’ve never seen someone eat so much in my life, countless shared meals, whether it was just the two of us or we were cooking for thirty other people, howl’s-moving-castle-breakfasts on weekends, hurried dinner leftovers scarfed down in the car while i drove the 55, hours-long hot pot feasts until we’re sweating and stuffed, wicked cold ice cream eaten on the curb downtown as midnight approaches, entire rainy mondays spent making phở, sandwiches with too much maggi seasoning packed in paper bags for hikes, inviting the boys over to gorge on wafer-thin bánh xèo, she’d chop tomatoes for my bruschetta because the smell of them made me sick and i would juice lemons for her when her hands were chapped and bleeding. and i’ve never had an easy relationship with food but something about lyss made eating feel so simple and right.

since she moved away and i eventually moved too i don’t have that same community anymore and i’ve struggled to eat well since losing it. i didn’t know what i had until it was gone. she never forced me to eat or chided me for not eating, she would just make really good food and share it with me. and i would eat it. i could eat it. eating was easier when she was around. so making dinner tonight was like a ritual, putting on the apron she gave me and making spring rolls for the first time in months and accidentally pouring out too much fish sauce just like she would do; and even though i don’t get to share spring rolls with her anymore, the time and the food that we shared together has changed me. and it’s okay. it’s easier to let myself eat and laugh when i can be the one to provide a meal for the people that i am with now, even if they’re not the people who make it easy, so for now i will do just that and maybe someday again i will be able to cook and eat with someone who makes it unburdensome.

#the tristamp food conversation dealt me 1 d20 damage it really could not have come at a worse (or better) time #local tumblr user repeatedly knocked flat by carefully handled themes of shared meals and disordered eating in anime #i have. an entire video about this thing exactly #personal #lyss tag

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wellthebardsdead · 1 year

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*Secrets part 2. Part 1 here*

———

Henwen: *wincing a little as Kaidan looks over his neck and wrist where dirge got his hands on him* is it bad?…

Kaidan: It looks bad… can’t really tell, Ive never seen another snow elf as a point of reference… but it looks like nightshade flowers against snow…

Henwen: It’s just bruised then… *sighs* why did you follow me?…

Kaidan: I wasn’t drunk. I was pretending to be, I saw those creeps eyeing you up all evening and when they followed you out I went after em. *huffs* I knew the thieves guild were a group of thugs but they really need to reconsider their recruiting method if they think grabbing people by their throats is appropriate… but, what did he mean by debt?…

Henwen: …when you were having a rest today he offered me some work… then asked me to plant a stolen ring on some poor guy… so I put it in his pocket instead and set the guards on him in front of everyone… must’ve really bruised his ego, heh…

Kaidan: *snickers* well, serves the bastard right but, you should have told me. Tonight could have ended very differently if I wasn’t on my toes… I don’t want to be known as the bastard who let the last dragonborn get killed. Never mind the last snow elf.

Henwen: I know, I-I’m sorry…

Kaidan: …hey… *places his hand to his shoulder* it’s okay… just… don’t wander far from me until I get you trained up a bit more yeah?…

Henwen: okay… *smiles up at him* we should go to bed… early rise tomorrow…

Kaidan: With how bruised up you are I say we move at whatever pace your comfortable with. But I agree, I want to get out of this town fast… *stands up and stretches as he walks to his bed* goodnight… Wendy.

Henwen: *still unsure of the nickname but too tired to argue it* goodnight, Kaidan…

*a few hours later*

Henwen: *blinks awake hearing whispering from outside his window* … *peers out to see shrouded figures staring at the blood on the ground from where Kaidan cut Dirge’s arm clean off*

???: Told Brynjolf to be careful, anyone who can outfox him shouldn’t be taken lightly.

???: yeah, Maul said to watch out for the big guy but I think Bryn underestimated just how big his companion really was. Let’s see if the face sculptor can reattach dirge’s arm. He’s lucky he didn’t lose his head while he was at it.

???: Shame it went so wrong. The lad had some real talent, the guild could’ve done great things with him. *sighs* Anyway, how’s about we grab a drink at the flagon after we give dirge his arm back? Ey vex?

Vex: shove off delvin or I’ll be shoving that arm somewhere you don’t want it to be. *walks off ahead*

Delvin: Oh come on I was only teasing!

Henwen: … *quietly watches them sneak off, almost undetectable, invisible* … *looks over at Kaidan*

Kaidan: *snoring like a bear*

Henwen: … *gets up and pulls on his robes hiding his face again* I’m sorry my friend… I can’t always rely on you to be there to keep me alive… I need to find a way to do that on my own… *tucks him in a little making the swordsman groan and roll over*

Kaidan: *still snoring, fast asleep* I didn’t mean to make the horkers stampedezzzzi just wanted a sandwich…

Henwen: *snickers and sneaks out of the room and downstairs before heading out of the tavern, slowly tailing the two thieves down into the ratway*

*Agonised screaming echoing from far off in the sewers*

Delvin: Welp take it dirge isn’t handling the pain well.

Vex: he lost an arm what did you expect? *waves the floppy appendage at the other thief before freezing in her tracks seeing movement in the shadows* whose there?!

Delvin: *heard Henwen following for a while now but was waiting for vex to notice, just smiles and turns around, hands out showing he’s unarmed* hey there lad, it’s alright, come out. No mean tricks ere.

Henwen: *slowly peers out, spear at the ready and covered in dried blood from the last frost troll he killed*

Vex: *reaches for her knife but stops as delvin glances at her*

Delvin: oi, no weapons. No force, just words. Let’s talk lad…

Henwen: *steps into the light of the torch hanging on the wall, bright blue eyes glimmering from under the shadow of his hood* okay… we talk…

Delvin: Okay lad… I’m guessing Brynjolf just plucked you off the street and threw you into the thick of it yeah? Wanted you to get your hands dirty immediately and wouldn’t let you back down?

Henwen: he wanted me to get an innocent man imprisoned…

Delvin: Aye, and your not one for that sort of work, I think he often forgets many members of the guild have different morals when it comes to their preferences for thieving. *snickers* The mans never done an honest days work in his life. But you, you’re a good lad, I can tell by the way you walk you’re young and cautious of the world too. But yet, your here. Why is that?

Henwen: I’m not a thief… I’ve never taken anything that didn’t belong to me in my life… but I know I can’t survive in this world without someone else’s help. Everyone is out to use me or… *shudders a little* never mind… but… I need to know how I can use them too. If I can’t protect myself with brute force then-

Delvin: protect yourself with information, and the shadows.

Henwen: *nods*

Delvin: Then I think the guild can help you after all lad. Come with me, we’ll talk a little more on the way.

Henwen: … *slowly puts his spear away and steps closer to follow*

Vex: …Y’know delvin I really question why we have Bryn bringing in new recruits when you can do so much better.

Delvin: Aw thanks vex, making me blush.

Vex: Say that again and I’ll hit you with dirges arm then make him hit you himself after it’s reattached!

*a few moments later*

Henwen: *walks into the flagon after delvin to hear the screaming now at full volume and yelling between two men*

Maul: I TOLD YOU TO LOOK OUT FOR HIS BODYGUARD!

Brynjolf: HOW WAS I MEANT TO KNOW THE WANKER WAS THAT FUCKING BIG OR THAT FAST?! ONE MINUTE YOUR BROTHERS HAND WAS ON THE LADS THROAT THEN I BLINKED AND HIS ARM WAS ON THE FLOOR!

Henwen: good I didn’t appreciate the bruising he left me.

Everyone: *shuts up so fast you could hear a pin drop before looking at the three as they enter*

Vex: I got the arm let’s get it back on his body.

Delvin: and I. Got us a new recruit. *pats Henwen on the back*

Brynjolf: I- what?!

Delvin: Maybe try communicating with potential new hires ey? Rather then randomly accosting them.

Henwen: *knowing there’s a massive risk to showing his identity but deciding it’s best to be honest amongst a den of thieves* Sorry for embarrassing you lot twice now but- *pulls back his hood showing his pretty snow elf face, his long white hair, and the now dark purple bruise on his neck* I’d say we’re even now, yeah?

Brynjolf: *nearly as red as his hairline* I-… aye.

*the next morning*

Henwen: *groans flopping back into his bed in the bee and barb, covered in bee stings and smelling of wood smoke after completing the golden glow job by sheer dumb luck alone and somehow managing to not fuck it up*

Kaidan: *yawns awake* good morning, howd you-

Henwen: *snoring into his pillow completely conked out*

Kaidan: …sweet get to sleep in. *lays back down and goes back to sleep*

#yes dirge got his arm back #mercer actually thought henwens antics against Brynjolf were pretty funny but he’s absolutely thinking of ways he can exploit wendy #and yes delvin absolutely is taking the role of dad model to Henwen #vex skyrim #delvin skyrim #Brynjolf skyrim #henwen dragonborn #Kaidan skyrim #falmer dragonborn #ocs

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terrainofheartfelt · 2 years

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Dair prompt please! Decision

Dair + Decision

Blair sits at her desk in her home office nook, staring down at the legal pad in front of her, no longer seeing the words scrawled on the lines, all the hypotheticals, the possibilities, the pro/con lists.

“Hey,” she hears Dan over her shoulder, “how goes it?”

She makes a noncommittal noise as he comes up behind her, bends to press a kiss to her temple. At the touch of his lips, her shoulders drop, she wasn’t even aware of the tension she was holding until after it leaves her body.

She taps the end of her pen on her desk. Well, it’s Dan’s pen, she stole it from his home office because her good ones were all at the museum. At least once a week, the classic line of what’s mine is yours is used in their household to justify some grand office supply larceny.

“I think…” she starts, willing herself to speak it, “Yale.”

“Yeah?”

She turns to glimpse Dan’s face, gauging his reaction. “I know it's not in the city, but it's a better program, and it's definitely closer than most of the others. Like, I want a doctorate, but I don’t really want to have to go to Boston to get it.”

Dan snorts, cracking a smile, shaking his head slightly.

“And,” she continues, “I could get most of the work done from here, except for the teaching, but we can work something out –”

“Of course we can,” Dan insists, sincere. “Lizzie’s in school now, so that’ll help.”

Blair arches an eyebrow. “And Sam?”

He shrugs. “He’s easy, just water him and face him towards the sunlight.”

She rolls her eyes, but refuses to laugh, it’s too easy.

“We have a deep bench of backup,” Dan adds, slightly more serious. “We can absolutely make Yale work, if that’s what you want.”

She casts an eye to the stack of promotional material they’d gotten in the mail. She’d thought universities had moved strictly to email, but Blair guesses some things never change (though Dan had offered to print every one of her acceptance letters: Harvard, Bryn Mawr, Penn, Toronto, Princeton, even Stanford and Berkeley—even though she abhorred the idea of moving to California).

“Yeah,” she declares after a deep breath. “Yeah it is.”

He drops down next to her, meeting her eye level, like she’s their daughter coloring at the kitchen table. “But?”

Blair shoots him a sidelong look, but he knows her too well. “Do you think maybe it’s too…” she trails off, waving her pen in the air.

He nods, knowing what she means without her having to finish the thought. “It’s not like that,” he says, soft but firm. “This is what makes the best sense for you now, and all that happened back then has nothing to do with it.” He taps a finger on the notepad in front of her, color-coded and organized to class size, faculty, and course offerings. “All the lists you’ve made are proof of that.”

Blair huffs out a laugh, pulling up one knee to her chest, propping her foot on her desk chair. “It may be about that,” she turns to meet Dan’s eye, and holds up two fingers, pinched together, “just a little bit.”

He smiles. “So what if it is?” He settles onto his knees, scooting up right next to her. “I know – losing out then hurt you, but you’ve already been accepted. And now, you have the chance to go back and rub all the success you’ve had since right in their face.”

She bursts into laughter, her head dipping towards the desk in front of her. “And you?” she asks suddenly, turning back to him, not having to add any more words for him to understand their meaning. You were hurt, too.

Dan reaches out, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. “If it’s right for you, it’s right for me.”

She reaches for him, runs her fingers through his hair. “You have quite a bit of success to rub in Yale’s face too, Dan Humphrey.”

He laughs into her hand, twisting around to kiss her palm. “Hey,” he says lowly, “as far as I’m concerned, I’ve won.”

She grins, teeth digging into her lower lip. “Oh yeah?”

He nods, solemn. “Mmm-hmm. After all,” he kneels up, bringing his face right in front of hers, “I’m the one who’ll be married to the hot doctor.”

Blair laughs, giving in, kissing Dan back, knowing that whatever else happens, there’s at least one choice she got right.

#dair #wifeguy dan waldorf #thank you for sending!#if you've read the MoF verse #this premise may be familiar...but it doesn't have to be #proud to push yet another agenda of mine: Dr. Blair Waldorf #bc it DOES sound super hot #and idk. something about blair going back and getting an advanced degree from yale...it's nice #bc it's not really about utrying to right the past any more #but it's like now is the right time for her to go there. idk if that makes sense #this and the next two are lengthy but idk how the others will turn out #i'm taking these slow. today was kind of a weird day. personal stuff I'm not sharing with tumblr etc.#so not much writin has gotten done.#BUT. i'm still having fun with theeeeese!

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oblitum · 6 months

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It's a good question. Between them they've cheated death plenty, her sister is right. But this time somehow feels different, like a weight she can't put down. Bryn isn't scared of death, not really, at times she would have even welcomed it, baiting it closer. No, she's strapped into that darkness enough times it's face doesn't scare her so what does? Perhaps the thought of leaving their niece alone, the thought of losing the family that was just now coming together again in a way they haven't since they were human.

This time it scares her. This time she has something to lose. " What if something goes wrong? " she asks her sister instead, dodging the question. " It's risky Leah, even by our standards. " Rare words from the brunette, usually more than happy to leap at any crazy plans.

@troubleah sent: ❛ It’s not like we haven’t cheated death before. I don’t understand why this time isn’t any different. ❜

#troubleah #˚・` . 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬 bryn mikaelson ❛ these violent delights have violent ends. ❜

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voidtouched-blue · 8 months

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Entry 2:

Bryn said he heard me fighting off another nightmare last night. I don’t know what he expected. Apparently, he had to hold my hands down. I don’t remember what I was fighting off in my sleep, but he thought I was going to hurt myself. I knew writing down my thoughts was a bad idea. As long as I keep them away from the things that make me angry, then I can manage them. At least, I don’t think the nightmares will be as bad if I just don’t write about them. So I’ll write about something else this time.

I never thought I’d enjoy sleeping on the ground as much as I have been the last two weeks. Granted, we’re still not out of enemy territory, but I can’t remember a time where I slept so peacefully. My memories from before…well…they’re cloudy. I don’t quite remember much aside from standing on a beach, feeling my toes in the sand, and smelling the salted breeze of the wind on the ocean. I haven’t told him about that yet. I don’t want to. I don’t remember a lot from before, but I also don’t want to remember. Nothing was happy about my childhood, that’s all I know.

I really don’t see how this is supposed to help me. I’ve only sat down twice to write in this damned book and every time I’ve gotten so angry. I don’t want him to ask if I’m okay. I don’t want him to read any of this. I don’t want him to know exactly how much hate and malice I keep to myself. Though, I’m sure he can just sense it. I get so overwhelmed with rage sometimes that I just can’t keep myself together anymore. I don’t understand it. It happened a lot in the last few years, and it’s just absolutely uncontrollable. I worry that one day I’ll lose it, and I won’t come back to myself. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I can’t control what I do when I get lost in anger. I just hope I don’t do something I don’t regret.

Anyway, it’s late, and I can’t keep this candle burning for much longer. We still have to be careful until we’re back in safer territories. Perhaps I’ll write more tomorrow.

[The sides of the page have faded, inky fingerprints on them. A sign that her penmanship is clumsy and lacking.]

#ic #compendium #cyra lore

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hxroic-wxlls · 1 year

Note

Hikari smiled as a frigid aura covered her odachi than she was gone, leading Bryn to quickly cover her katana in fire and clash blades with Hikri the two being a tie strength wise, but Hikari simply smiled as her eyes turned gold then she used her free hand to grab her sheath and use it to knock Bryn away.

"This is going to be such a pain." Yup, Bryn now sure it was her aunt. No one else pulls that kind of stunt on her and it's something she never told others about because no one would think Hikari would even hit someone with her sheath. "Maria sending this to you!" She swings her katana, launching a fire dragon towards Maria. While she dashes at her aunt.

Hikari can tell Bryn figured out who she was, but is glad her niece didn't rat her out. Too bad she's not going to lose to something she taught, so she placed her sheath back on her waist and parry Bryn's strike. "Now, I wonder what you're up too?"

...Okay, given how easily she was able to push Bryn away, she was starting to get a good idea on who exactly this apparent ‘newcomer’ is... Couldn’t be Freyja, as her aura just didn’t feel the same way... However, the alternative was someone who she knew quite well... And of course, that basically meant they were already the underdogs, here.

“ A pain indeed, buddy. Man, talk about a rough match up. “ Still, it’s not like it was a fight to the death. So, she wasn’t worried about the duo’s safety, anymore... But there’s a high chance they’re gonna get their asses kicked, if they don’t get into high gear.

Absorbing the dragon into the palm of her hand, she’d focus an immense amount of her own flames into the received energy, multiplying it’s overall power by at least fifty... With the energy surging through here, she’d transfer this power right back to Bryn. Good strategy, huh? Take the power that someone gives ya, increase it’s potency immensely, and then give it back. Now that’s some support!

“ Here’s a little present! “ Pulling out one of her uncle’s old passed down hammers from her pant’s pockets, she’d engulf it a powerful flame, before tossing it at Hikari, like a boomerang. Flaming Hammerang, eh? How creative!

#warriorsofcrimsonrealms #{little m: ic}#{older!au}#{spark blaster path}#{ask answered}

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celticbarb · 2 years

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Book: Almost A Scot

Author: Jade Lee

Series: Always a Scot, book 3

Publisher: Dragonblade

Release Date: October 27, 2022

Print Length: 268 pages

Overall Rating: 5 Stars

Blog Rating: 5 Saltire Flags

London…

Iseabail Spalding is in disguise as an unintelligent Scottish debutant and has a living with one of the wealthiest families of the ton. Furthermore, she is also being sponsored by the influential and forceful Dowager of Bryn. However she did this to escape her cruel, butchering Uncle, where he and his traitorous men are looking for his missing niece. Of course it is only for the power they suspect her of having-as a powerful witch. Iseabail believes her Uncle to be a malicious, treacherous, murderer who most likely murdered both her parents which she still needed proof. Iseabail’s Uncle was her father’s own brother and most likely he killed her missing mother too. On top of that he is trying to force her to marry a murdering husband who killed his last wife, as Iseabail had taken care of his wife’s body for burial which made her totally sick! So basically she is in England trying to depretely find a strong, brawny, sassenach she can marry, hoping it is a man who can stand up to her Uncle and hopefully kill him too. Yet, Iseabail is unfortunately finding no success at all in this venture.

Reuben Bates is bored with his life, at one time he would of been happy with looting, sleeping around with lose women and brawling.Yet now he wants to marry an a titled peer of the ton and live high on the hog, raising his future children with titles. Money is no problem as he has many businesses that turned profitable. but he needs to find a titled Lady whose family has financial issues, basically in ruins to accept him as her future husband. The problem is he has to be invited to one of these balls and to get property introduced. He has learned all the propers dances, how to dress like a wealthy peer and have the perfectly folded cravat. However the only way to do this is by using one of their peers to sneak in the ball as he obviously has no invitation and will be thrown out if caught.

So he discovers some of this Scottish debutant, Isabel Spalding’s secrets, so he also blackmails and steals from this beauty too. As he always keeps the weapons people try to use on him. this lady was a fighter which he rather enjoyed, but he does keep her weapon too. He realizes she will probably get some bad treatment she doesn’t deserve but he could not help that At first he tries to pretend he doesn’t care, as long as he gets the titled woman heiress he desires, but soon he changes sides. As both Reuben and Isabael discover a love that is like all consuming, but is it long lasting? Afterall, he is a man who gets bored very quickly. She is also a woman who is willing to use a man to kill her Uncle to protect her own life. So is their love even real or are they both using each other for their own personal desires? Will Reuben stand up to her deceitful, cold blooded Uncle? Is he the one who will stand up to her Uncle and protect Iseabail forever? Or will he realize it is too much and throw Isebail back to the wolves? Read and find out in this phenomenal book!

Again Jade Lee pens another powerful masterpiece that just blew me away! I loved this story so much! It is filled with drama, mystery, suspense, honor, trust, plus a love story that will absolutely sweep readers away! . I think this story is different from any of the books I have previously read and the action packed plotting is absolutely brilliant! As I never knew what was about to happen next which definitely had my heart racing! Even the secondary characters are amazing in this book. I have been reading Jade Lee for over twenty years and her books are always extraordinary from start to finish and have me glued to each and every page. I don’t want to give much away but it is definitely a book readers don’t want to miss!

I absolutely and unequivocally highly recommend Almost a Scot by Jade Lee. You can read this as a stand alone book or in series order. I totally loved it!

Always a Scot by Jade Lee

Book 1: Lord Scot

Book 2: Lady Scot

Book 3: Almost a Scot

https://www.amazon.com/Almost-Scot-Always-Book-ebook/dp/B0BFCPMS2Z

Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy and an advance reader copy from Dragonblade publishers. I voluntarily agreed to do a fair review and blog through netgalley. All thoughts, ideas and words are my own.

Buy Links:

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/almost-a-scot-jade-lee/1142248779

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brynr11 · 2 years

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HANDS ON ASSIGNMENT

---

“Why did you skip class again?”

“Bryn skipped too.”

“You always skip though, I’ve only skipped twice.”

“Bryn has better grades than you.”

“Fine you’re right, I was just tired and it was raining and I needed to go back to sleep.”

---

“What’s a good rainy day outfit?”

“Leggings and a hoodie.”

“But I wanna look nice.”

“I rather be comfy.”

“You’re right, screw it.”

---

“I’m so anxious for no reason.”

“I feel like that all the time it's like I’m running on a hamster wheel constantly and can’t get off.”

---

“Look at this oil roller I got!”

“I saw that, it’s gross.”

“I know but you can clean it.”

“I don't know I just use tissues to de-oil my face.”

“Honestly valid I just saw this on tik tok and bought it solely for that reason.”

“I’ve been there, but this impulse buying habit has become expensive.”

“I had to try it, but never again.”

“Use it now I wanna see if it works.”

---

“My bday party. October 21st, you’re coming.”

“I have my other friends birthday party that night.”

“Tell her to move her party to the club.”

“Haha you tell her!”

“I’ve only met her once.”

---

"Grandpa is losing it.”

“No he’s not, it’s just old age.”

"He told us he drank gasoline thinking it was kombucha."

"Oh."

---

“Hey Bryn I need a favor come in my room and close the door.”

“What’s up?”

“I need you to make an account for me on a 21 and older poker site.”

“What”

“It’s a reliable site and I just need to make an account but I’m not 21 so i can’t use my info, don’t tell dad.”

“Absolutely not you turn 21 in December wait until then.”

---

"I slept 11 hours last night and still napped today.”

“Are you okay?”

“I wish.”

#conversations

0 notes

sunshinejihyun · 3 years

Note

I command you to... continue being an awesome person and look after yourself! ✨

ALSJSKSJ OK KIRO IF YOU INSIST 😭😭

Literally me waking up and seeing this ^^

Also that’s like the best Kiro bc he’s like GAZING INTO MY SOUL and also it’s my favorite Kiro outfit alsjskjs THANK YOU VIRGO THIS IS SO CUTE💛💛💛

#people i love #asks answered #beautiful-mystic-mess #don’t lose this bryn

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p1anether · 2 years

Text

i lose access to the loeb library after this semester will my suffering ever end

#i’m kinda sad about never studying classics again after this year #and i’m done with latin forever 💔#bc i’m not taking latin this semester bc it was just at a weird time #and it’s online and all my classes are in person and taking zoom classes on campus was a NIGHTMARE #i was talking to my supervisor for my job who was a classics major as an undergrad #and he was telling me he just keeps up kinda generally with the current scholarship #to fill the void left by not studying classics anymore lmaoo #so i might just do that. i’m subscribed to the bryn mawr reading list #or classical review idk what it’s called but that thing #and i might continue to read latin and greek just so i don’t lose the skill #like there’s some things i’ve only read in translation that i’d like to read the originals of #like the aeneid. i’ve never read the aeneid in latin. like a fraud.#doing my thesis was genuinely so much fun tho. like it was miserable but fun.#like there was one article on how the romulus and remus story exists in part to soothe parental fears about exposure #which is FASCINATING i never thought of it like that #i’ll just miss reading classical scholarship

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whatsortofschoolisthis · 2 years

Text

Merula: I will not stand here and be insulted!

Hecate: Then stand somewhere else and I'll insult you there.

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Ismelda: I have achieved a new state of being which requires no food or water but is sustained only by pure, unrelenting rage.

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Professor Flitwick: What did he do to you?

Filch: You really find it difficult to believe Sean Ames would wrong someone?

Professor Flitwick: No, I just want to know what it was this time.

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Ben, writing in his diary with a glitter gel pen: I'm losing my sense of humanity. Nothing matters. The gods are dead. There's blood on my hands.

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Tonks, dripping water on the floor: it's always 'why did you go out in the storm' and 'you're soaking wet' and never ‘How was the storm The storm looked fun Was it fun.’

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Charlie: Jae, I don't think we should cook the candy bars.

Jae: Back off. I know what I'm doing.

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Penny: What if you’re all wrong about this?

Sean: Oh please, as if we’ve ever been right in our entire lives

Kit: Everything’s always ending horribly, so why bother?

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Dumbledore: I think Hogwarts has had a great year. I feel like a proud mama hen whose baby chicks have learned to fly.

Snape: Interesting analogy. Chickens are famously bad at flying.

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Wednesday: I'm sorry I accused you of arson.

Tulip: Well, to be fair Wednesday Drew, I was the obvious suspect.

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Barnaby: Heads up if you try to make a candle with food coloring, the food coloring will just sink to the bottom of the glass, and when the flame eventually reaches the bottom all the food coloring will catch fire and become one giant tall flame that you cannot possibly blow out and the glass will start to crack and then you'll throw your tea on it in a panic and then the extremely hot food coloring will boil and sizzle horribly and then the glass will shatter. Please take my word on this.

Felix, already getting a headache: What did you do Lee?

Barnaby: A MISTAKE.

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Talbott: Is anyone going to tell me what's going on in here?

Rowan: It's kind of complicated, but Sean and Tulip—

Talbott: Got it. Forget I asked.

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Tonks: What time does the judgmental express arrive?

Tulip: Talbott Winger, Wednesday Drew, and Bryn Ames come back at 5.

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Sean: I’m gonna open a cat café, but I need investors. Here’s the plan. The first floor will have normal cats, but as you go up, each floor will have more and more dangerous cats, and at the top floor is me with a gun.

Talbott: Sean, go to bed. It’s 2:30 in the morning.

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Cedric: Can I keep the nightlight on?

Tonks: And provide the monsters with a beacon to your location? Use your head.

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 3 years

Text

too soon to tell, chapter f o u r

You ignored the texts from Bryn, Jake, and Adam the rest of the day. You drew the shades in your flat and watched one of the stupid soap opera’s Alyssa had turned you onto and instead of calling your mum or your sister, you fell asleep at 7pm and then woke up at 3am.

Mostly, you tried to swallow back tears and remind yourself that if you lived without him for so long, you could do it now.

Bryn finally convinced you to come over to hers on Sunday and the rainy weather made you even more resentful of climbing the stairs to her walk-up.

You knocked three times before she opened the door and smiled timidly.

“Jesus, it’d be nice to get a lift in here, yeah? Feels like I climbed Everest.”

She stepped aside and you shrugged off your jacket, Jessie was seated on the couch in the living room and looked just as surprised to see you.

“What--is this some kind of set up, Bryn?”

She didn’t answer Jessie’s question, instead she looked at you to see if you were equally peeved.

“M’not doing this,” you said quickly, motioning to Jessie. You reached for your jacket after setting it on a hook, but Bryn slapped your hand out of the way.

“Yes you are,” she nodded before looking over to Jessie. “And you are too.”

“I have nothing to say to her,” you informed them, crossing your arms over your chest when Bryn moved closer to Jessie who sat in an armchair near the window. She eyed you with a displeased look, Jessie rolled her eyes and eventually, you huffed and took two steps closer to them.

“Jessie, do you have something to say to Y/N?”

“Not really.”

“Not really?” Bryn was annoyed now. “You’re not sorry?”

“I might be if she didn’t lose her shit on me at the club and not even hear me out.”

“I don’t owe you anything, Jessie--I don’t have to hear you out. Don’t you understand how terrible this is? You snogged the guy I’ve loved forever and didn’t tell me. What kind of friend does that?!”

“You told us that night in the car on the way back from his show that you were over him!”

You let out a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, s’not my fault you were dumb enough to believe me!”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jessie faked a smile. “Didn’t know I had to assume you were a liar.”

“I’m the liar in this situation? Do you hear yourself?!”

“Alright, will you two quit it?” Bryn looked less than pleased as she stood in her living room, hands on her hips like a frustrated parent.

“If you believed that I was over him Jessica why did you purposely withhold the truth from me for nearly a decade?”

She let out a short huff of air from her nose, crossed her arms, and turned away from you.

“I’ll answer for you,” you snarled. “Because you knew I was full of shit. You knew I was in love with him and you were selfish as always and wrapped up in yourself and you knew it was wrong.”

“Do you know how obnoxious and ridiculous it’s been being a side character in your saga for the last fifteen years? You love him, you don’t, you hate him, you don’t!” She let out a groan and paced atop the carpet.

“Well the saga’s over, alright? I’m not doing that anymore. It’s been stupid and painful and I can’t do it anymore,” you clenched your teeth to hide the emotion as your voice shook. You didn’t want to cry in front of Jessie, show how much it hurt to be betrayed by someone who knew you almost your whole life.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bryn asked, her voice much more steady than yours or Jessie’s.

Jessie’s head whipped in your direction when she stopped compulsively walking, you felt a knot in your stomach when you licked your lips. You cleared your throat to appear composed: “we broke up. I broke up with him.”

“Great, so now that you two broke up you’ll expect us to never speak to him again just like last time? That’s so petty, Y/N, honestly. I’m sick of our relationship with Harry having to revolve around yours.”

You looked at her with disgust on your face. “I’m the petty one? Pretty bold of you to say after you kissed my boyfriend and lied about it for years.”

“He wasn’t your boyfriend back then because you didn’t have the guts to tell him you were in love with him!”

“Both of you shut up!” Bryn yelled, her hands in the air like she could strangle either one of you. “Jessie, you’re a twat for kissing Harry and not telling her. Y/N, you’re a twat for breaking up with him over it.”

You didn’t mean to say it, but with anger coursing in your veins and Jessie Alby directly across from you, it just slipped out.

“That’s not the only reason I broke up with him.”

“Well then why did you do it?” Bryn pressed.

You let out a sigh, crossed your arms over your chest and figured that there was no point in being dishonest, especially if it’d make you a hypocrite.

“Because I got a job offer in Los Angeles. I turned it down but he was all upset about it and it didn’t--I didn’t feel like we were going anywhere. It doesn’t feel like we’re getting more serious.”

Bryn looked confused. “When did this happen?”

“Last week.”

Now Jessie piped up. “Why did you get a job offer in LA?”

You looked at her through narrowed eyes. “Because people think I’m good at my job.”

“I mean: are you looking for a new job?”

“No,” you shrugged. “Someone reached out. It was with E! News.”

“Holy shit,” Bryn mumbled.

“Yeah, and I turned it down like a fucking idiot for that wanker,” you threw a thumb over your shoulder in the direction of Harry’s neighborhood. “I should have taken it.”

“Why?” Bryn asked.

“Because he kissed this wanker,” you pointed at Jessie.

“She is a wanker,” Bryn nodded, holding a hand up when Jessie scoffed. “But you know she loves you and you know she’d never do anything to purposely hurt you.”

“Then why did you kiss him?” You turned to look at her, eyes pleading for even the slightest crumb of the truth.

She let out a big breath, shook her head. “Because I was drunk and stupid and I don’t know--I guess a part of me wondered what was so intriguing to you about him. Everyone was so obsessed with him once he was in the band and you pretty much always had been. I was curious--and off my face.”

You scrunched your nose at the thought of them kissing. In Adam’s house? With you on the other side of a wall somewhere? Jake and Bryn nearby too?

“For the record, it was maybe three seconds and I immediately felt nauseous. We laughed at how stupid and gross it was and I vaguely remember pinky-promising that we’d never even think about touching each other again.”

You eyed her for a second, hesitant to admit her words felt reassuring. You looked at Bryn. “You’re willing to back her up on this one?”

She raised a hand as if she was being sworn in. “I can truthfully say that when she told me it happened she looked utterly disgusted.”

“It was like kissing my brother.”

“I don’t care!” You said quickly. “I don’t care that it was disgusting because you shouldn’t have even done it. It was selfish not to tell me and stupid to do it. And even stupider to tell your fucking coworker--"

“Did you actually break up with him?” Jessie asked, the anger now diminished in her voice.

“Yeah, Jessie, I did. Knowing that he couldn’t be honest with me over something like that just makes me worry that there’s other stuff he’s not honest about. I mean, does no one remember the whole Nina Winters thing?”

Bryn pushed her lips out at that, like she’d forgotten all about the other moment of dishonesty you’d already witnessed from Harry.

Sure, whatever romance he’d had with the American model was short lived and barely got off the ground. But when you found out on the internet that his relationship with her and the start of your rekindling overlapped, you were heartbroken and knew you had no one to blame but yourself.

Which is exactly how you felt now. How could you have been so stupid for all these years to think that you and Harry were meant to be?

“He’s not a liar, though, Y/N,” Jessie said.

“Omitting the truth is still a shitty thing to do.”

“Yeah, but--you’re really going to throw it all away because I was a drunken idiot and he didn’t want to ruin what you guys finally had when you reconnected?”

“Yep,” you said it simply, like it wasn’t a huge decision and like it didn’t rock your world. “Trust me, it hasn’t been a walk in the park.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“We’ve been fighting a lot and I think back in New York we were wrapped up in the excitement of hanging out again that we thought an actual relationship could work, but--”

You cut yourself off, unsure why you were explaining yourself to Jessie. She shifted under your angry glare and watched as you finally sat on the sofa. She looked more guilty than Harry, somehow, her freckled face was nervous and uncertain when she watched you.

“What, Jessie? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I just feel bad--I didn’t mean to fuck stuff up for you.”

“It’s been fucked up before this, alright? S’just icing on the cake.”

“Are you okay?” Bryn came to sit beside you, pushed her glasses up on her nose and reached a hand for yours.

You sighed, “I don’t know. Doesn’t feel real. I’m stupid, I guess, right? I thought that being in a relationship with him would be magical and exciting and--I dunno--I guess I fantasized about it for so long I never realized that it’s actually extremely difficult and time consuming and not normal at all.”

“You didn’t know how hard it would be,” Bryn tried to reassure you.

“Someone like him isn’t mean to be with someone like me.”

“How do you figure?” She asked.

“He’s jet setting around the world and I work a nine-to-five.”

Jessie was still timid when she spoke, like she was metaphorically walking on eggshells as she pieced a sentence together. “You’re saying all of this like you haven’t known him forever--you know he’s not just some stupid celebrity.”

“He’s been acting like one lately,” you said quietly, pulling your knees up to your chest and settling into the couch. Bryn took this as a cue to shove a blanket your way and head for the kitchen to put the kettle on.

“So maybe you need to just talk things through, have a come to Jesus moment!” Jessie reasoned.

“Why are you so adamant about working it out? You've never wanted us to be together and you wouldn't shut up about how bad of an idea this was in New York when we first started hooking up!"

She shrugged her shoulders, “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Well now I’m hurt, Jessie! And it’s partially your fault!”

“Hey,” Bryn poked her head out of the kitchen to hold you accountable. “There’s more going on here and you know it.”

“Of course there is,” you admitted in a whine--you weren’t trying to deny that. “Harry and I got off to a weird start when I found out he was dating someone else at first! Then I found out that all of you had lied to me about him having feelings for me at some point. So there’s always been this weird level of dishonesty lurking in the background--we were built on a foundation of lies!”

Jessie rolled her eyes at your theatrics, you rolled your eyes in response and Bryn let out a sigh.

“When did you start to worry that you weren’t serious enough?”

“When I realized that he could go days without seeing me and not be bothered. And when I realized I couldn’t.”

They both offered sympathetic frowns at that, Jessie shifted in her seat. “You don’t think you should talk to him about that?”

“I thought I should, but then he got all bothered one night when I said being his girlfriend was hard and complained that he’s busy.”

“Maybe this is just a rough patch,” Bryn shrugged.

“Or maybe it’s proof that we’re not meant to be.”

“It’s you and Harry,” Jessie reminded. “Of course you’re meant to be.”

You didn’t reply, afraid that opening your mouth would let the tears build more quickly and race down your cheeks. Bryn brought you a cuppa and you traced the pattern on her throw blanket, wondering if you’d made the biggest mistake of your life or if you were saving yourself future heartbreak. After all, the higher you climb, the farther you fall.

You walked the long way home, the pavement between your boots felt grounding. The thought of sitting in your flat alone on a Sunday evening felt more depressing than walking in the rain so you did a few laps around your block just to avoid the leftovers he’d left in your fridge last week and the phone charger on his side of your bed.

You didn’t know what this would look like: would he still come to Thursday night dinners? Would he still reply in the group text? Would he show up at your flat again in a few days to talk things through or beg you to come to his to try to fix things?

Monday morning was cloudy and Naomi and Tyler could tell something was up, a group chat from Adam and Jake around lunch let you know somehow they’d been clued in.

Adam Penter (1:12pm): 🙁

Jake Newcomb (1:14pm): Double 🙁

Y/N L/N (1:15pm): 🤷‍♀️

You didn’t know if Harry had told them or if Jessie couldn’t keep her mouth shut. Maybe it was Bryn, or maybe Jake did have his ear pressed against your door and heard the news for himself.

They knocked at yours that night with a pizza and a pint, hesitant smiles told you they came in peace.

They sat on the floor around your coffee table, the evening news muted as Adam handed you a beer.

“How much do you already know?” You eyed them suspiciously, not wanting to repeat all the details if they’d already heard most of it from someone else.

Adam looked at Jake like he was contemplating how honest to be.

“Please just tell me--I can’t take any more lying.”

“I thought we were calling it omitting the truth,” Jake teased, using your words from your conversation with Bryn and Jessie, his way of admitting they knew a decent amount.

“We know a little bit,” Adam waved Jake off. “But we’d rather hear it from you.”

You sighed, bit into the slice you held in your hand. Not as good as New York but it would do. “Do I really have to explain it all if Jessie or Bryn or Harry already told you?”

“Fine, fine,” Jake backed off. “But answer this: do you love him?”

You sipped from the green beer bottle and looked at him with a blank stare. “Jacob,” you said his name in warning. It was a stupid question, you didn’t know why he would make you answer something so obvious.

“Can I ask a different question?” Adam cleared his throat. “Were you really going to move to LA?”

“Oh Jesus, again--no privacy with you freaks.”

“Well that’s a big deal, Y/N, to not tell us about that,” Jake remarked.

“I hadn’t even gotten the offer until like five days ago.”

“You just got back to London!” Adam shrugged.

You narrowed your eyes at them. “I didn’t take it--not sure if your informant told you that.”

“He did,” Jake mumbled.

“You talked to Harry?”

“Of course we talked to Harry,” he said quickly. “What do you think we did on Sunday when you were at Bryn’s?”

You used a napkin to wipe grease from your fingertips. “How is he?”

“Angry,” Adam said. “Upset. A bit of both.”

“Does it not matter to anyone that I wasn’t happy? You know how he can be--he’s busy and he doesn’t communicate well. He didn’t text you when your gran died,” you motioned at Adam.

“No one is saying he’s perfect,” Jake admitted. “He’s an idiot, he’s a wanker, we know that. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be with him. You’re a wanker too.”

“I didn’t let you guys in here to put me on trial, you know.”

“We love you,” Adam said. “We want you to be happy and we think Harry is a part of that, even if it’s been hard lately.”

You rolled your eyes, appreciated that Jake took it upon himself to unmute the telly and change the topic of conversation by sharing a stupid story from the office. They left before 9pm and you locked the door behind them, hoping that the desire to call him or go to his would fade overnight.

When you got to work the next morning, you were surprised to see an email from Harry’s manager in your inbox.

Tyler looked up from across the room when you scoffed, your notes from the Gigi interview sprawled out on the coffee table in front of him.

“What?”

“Listen to this email: Hi Y/N, wanted to connect with you over a few things. One--there were a few tweets that surfaced over the weekend from people who saw you getting into a car after a night out at Reign. I would assume more will come (along with headlines and media coverage alike) as news about the separation spreads. Maybe we can talk at some point about making a statement--unsure of Harry’s thoughts on this but I’ll talk with him as well. Also, let’s find a time for the three of us to meet for coffee to discuss your Gigi cover when you have a first draft.”

You’d told Tyler and Naomi the news, they were equally as upset as your friends and equally convinced that this was temporary.

Tyler’s eyes were wide when you looked up from your screen, waiting for a reply.

“News about the separation?" He pulled a face. "That sounds like something a divorce lawyer would say.”

“Of course even breaking up with Harry is a whole ordeal, nothing the man does is simple or normal.”

He ignored your words and came to read the email over your shoulder, his bleached blonde hair messy after he ran his hands through it a few times. He was quiet, looked down at you in between letting his eyes trace the words on the screen.

“What?” You finally asked when he headed back for his seat across the room. You knew he had something to say.

“Just--dunno--you’re really sure you can’t be with him anymore?”

You pressed your lips together and leaned back in your chair. The question everyone was hurling at you, the words that echoed in your mind late at night when you tried to sleep and forget the events of the last few days.

Justifying your own feelings and explaining your frustration was getting old now. You hadn't even had room to breathe since everything exploded and Jessie and Bryn and Jake and Adam and Tyler and Naomi and Alyssa didn’t need to understand. It didn’t need to make perfect sense to them and they didn’t have to like it.

“Not right now, alright?”

“Not right now, like you don’t wanna chat about it or not right now as in you can’t be with him right now?”

You thought on it for a second. “Both.”

“Hi,” Naomi knocked on the door and stepped inside, three white cups in a drink holder from the cafe down the street. “Figured if we were going to map out this cover story and finish our weekly deadlines we probably need some caffeine.”

“Y/N just got an email from Harry’s manager,” Tyler ratted you out before Naomi could even hand you the coffee.

“Oh?” She looked towards you. “Saying?”

“I’ll have a chat with them about the cover, and then about making a statement about the separation,” you put Jeff’s words in air-quotes and then took a sip.

“You don’t think Donna will pull your cover if you and Harry make a lot of news, do you?” Tyler’s question caused both you and Naomi to freeze.

“She coudn’t--” your shoulders slumped. “Could she?”

Naomi winced and tilted her head side to side. “She’s done strange things before, but, I don’t know. I don’t understand half the decisions she makes.”

You let out a sigh and leaned back in your chair. “Well fuck me. Now I have to play nice with Harry to avoid major headlines.”

Tyler made a face in your direction. “As if you were going to not play nice.”

“You know what I mean!”

He did, they tried to reason with you and talk through scenarios for the meeting to help you feel more prepared. They even stayed late to help you type up the transcript and get started on an outline.

But when you walked into an office building near Kensington a few days later, you wished they could attend the meeting with you to help settle any nerves.

You could hear his voice from down the hall, low and quiet when you rounded the corner and tried to steady your breathing. Jeffrey was seated on one side of a conference table as you approached, his sentence trailing off when he smiled and stood to welcome you. Harry sat a few seats away with his hands in his pockets, his eyes finding yours for a split second before he looked away.

“Hi Jeff,” you said, swiveling your head towards Harry’s, you swallowed and wondered if your cheeks looked as red as they felt. “Hi Harry.”

“Hi,” he said with a quick nod, a formality like you were just another business partner.

“So--thanks for coming, Y/N. Obviously we just wanted to chat about if-slash-what Harry might say in a statement. I mentioned in my email that people are starting to talk after those photos.”

You took a seat and smoothed out your dress, Jeffrey opened up his laptop and typed a few things.

“And we need to listen to the interview,” Harry reminded, his words prickly.

“I was getting there,” Jeff held up a hand to stop whatever tension was already building. “But yes, he’s right, we need to do that.”

“Okay, I just typed up the transcript, so I can send it to you.”

“Great.” Jeff nodded, his short answers made you think the two of them had already agreed to make this go as quickly as possible. “Any opposition to Harry making a statement addressing the split?”

“Uh,” you looked over to Harry, he kept his eyes on the ground as he twisted a ring on his finger. “No, I guess not.”

“Great,” he said again and smiled softly, apparently the meeting was going more swimmingly than he’d expected. “We can work on something with the team and get back to you? Send you a proof beforehand?”

Jeffrey looked to Harry, lips in a thin line when he brought his eyes back to you. You knew what he was saying: I can send you a proof so we don’t have to spend any more time with you two in the same room.

“Sure,” you offered him an apologetic smile.

“Okay--” Jeff looked at both of you. “Harry, we’ll work on something and I’ll discuss it with Y/N. Y/N, you’ll send us the transcript and we’ll give notes, and then we’ll handle the article when it’s closer, yeah?”

You nodded again, hands clasped on your lap like you were getting scolded by a teacher. Why was this meeting even necessary if all you’d accomplished was that you’d stick to the plan you’d already come up with? This all could have been done over email.

You felt Harry’s gaze on you before he spoke. “Jeff, can we have a minute?”

Jeff stopped typing, his eyes flickered to you and then back to Harry. “Sure--yeah. I can, uh, I’ll go down and get the car. Y/N--we’ll connect over email.”

Another nod, your mouth felt so dry you weren’t sure if you could pry your lips apart at this point. Jeff gathered his things and mumbled something about meeting Harry in the lobby. You weren’t sure what you expected, but when Harry leaned over to pick up a box that had been sitting on the ground beside him, your brow furrowed.

“What’s this?”

He pushed it towards you on the table.

“Your things from my house.”

“Oh.”

“Figured you’d want them back.”

His nonchalance made something in you snap.

“Harry, do you even understand why I broke up with you?”

“Not really,” he answered honestly and blank-faced.

You rolled your eyes. “Because you’re not good at communicating. You lie or you don’t tell me things and then I find out and it seems even more suspicious because you can’t just open your bloody mouth and explain how you feel or what’s going on.”

“Well I tried to communicate on Saturday at yours but you wouldn’t listen.”

“Right, I’m always the one not listening,” you crossed your arms. “What excuse could you possibly have for--hmm, let’s see,” you lifted a finger to count. “One, the time you dated Nina Winters and didn’t tell me you were seeing her. Two, kissing Jessie and, what do you know, not telling me about it. It feels really great to find out things about my boyfriend from our friends.”

He seemed to shrink a bit at your words, like he’d forgotten about Nina and the fight you’d had in New York when you felt betrayed and confused and heartbroken. He stared at the table, and when it was clear he didn’t have anything to say, you stood up.

“I should have told you sooner about the job interview and I’m sorry that I didn’t. But I can’t keep playing this game with you and our friends of who knows what. I know we met in primary school, Harry, but I’m not interested in having an elementary relationship with you anymore.”

You picked up the box on the table and headed for the door. You thought, and maybe hoped, that he’d have something else to say. An apology, a retort, even an insult would feel better than the silence that echoed in the hall as you made your way to the lift.

But as you’d said, Harry wasn’t any good at communicating.

You were practically fuming when Bryn showed up around 6pm that evening, shoving shit in a box so Harry would know you meant business. A glass of wine had already been poured and Alyssa was on FaceTime when you opened the door.

“Hi Brynnie!” Alyssa waved through the screen. “Y/N’s finally lost it.”

“Finally?” Bryn laughed and shrugged off her coat. “What’s got your knickers in a twist?”

Alyssa made a face at your friend’s British slang but let you fill her in on your meeting: first Jeffrey said, and then Harry said, isn’t that stupid?

Bryn watched with wide eyes as you took a gulp of wine from the glass you’d already been drinking. “S’a bit early for that, no?”

“Did you not hear anything I just said? I’ve had a rough day.”

Alyssa let out a laugh at your feral behavior, watched as you shoved t-shirts, sweatpants, trinkets, headphones, books into a cardboard box.

“So you’re stooping just as low as he did and bringing him a box of his shit?” Bryn asked.

“Precisely.”

“And what exactly is the point of that?”

“To make him realize how serious I am about all of this.”

“Y/N, he was a dick, for sure, okay? But don’t you think you two are above this?”

Alyssa’s words made your head swivel in the direction of your phone. “Above this? He started this!”

“I think Alyssa just means that you guys will probably talk some stuff out, right? Fine, right, if you don’t want to get back together you won’t--but, maybe you should hold off on…” Bryn paused, looked over at the box and motioned with both her hands in a circular fashion. “This.”

“Are you implying that I should be the bigger person?” You stared at your friend (the one who was on the same continent) and watched her expectantly. “Cause it’s past that now, yeah? He showed up to a meeting with Jeff and gave me a box of my things that had been in his house. That’s low.”

“It is low,” Bryn admitted. “And if you really think this is the right thing, then I support you.”

“Then get your boots on--we’ve got a bus to catch.”

She did as she was told: said goodbye to Alyssa and pulled on her shoes, soon trudging behind you down the street. You gave her more details on the bus ride over, your knees knocked together as you rode over the bumps on your way north and out of the city.

You knew she didn’t think it was a good idea--the way she nervously picked at her nails made that clear. But she walked faithfully behind you when you climbed down the stairs and out onto his street, your arms wrapped around the box you’d found tucked in your closet from when you’d moved back across the Atlantic.

There was no way he’d be home. It was too early in the afternoon and he’d been dressed in your meeting like he had other places to be. Bryn had coached you on the bus: open the gate, drop it on the step, turn around, leave.

Now she stood behind you as you punched in the entry code, a smugness washed over you when you realized he hadn’t changed it to deny you access. It hummed as it separated, she let out a noise of disapproval when she trailed behind you towards his front door.

“Probably should have texted him, no?”

“I don’t owe him a warning, Bryn. We’re just leaving this and getting out.”

She didn’t reply, instead just rolled her eyes when you looked at her over your shoulder and offered a snarky smirk.

The sky was cloudy and your heart beat rose when you neared the front door, cars on the street provided enough noise to cover your stealth mission. You set the box right in the middle of his front step so he wouldn’t miss it, immediately feeling lighter when you turned around and no longer felt the weight of it in your hands.

“Okay, hurry up,” she ordered, hands in her pockets.

“I’m hurrying, relax,” you shot back, hopping down the steps. You were about to tell her to not get her knickers in a twist--the same language she’d used earlier at your flat--but the color drained from her face when you heard the door open behind you.

“Hi,” he said quickly, hood up over his head and a hand in the pocket of his sweatpants when you spun around to see him. "Long time no see."

Bryn offered an awkward wave but waited for you to speak.

“Hi, we were just, uh--dropping off your things.”

He bent down and picked it up, eyed the contents before he picked up a book he’d left at your house.

“I already had it packed this morning,” you lied.

“Did you?”

“I did,” you nodded. “Would have brought it to the meeting but--I forgot.”

He nodded slowly, the emotion on his face was hard to place but you knew he wasn’t pleased. “Sure you’re not just being petty and bringing this over cause I gave your stuff back?”

It took you a second to get the words out, offended by his accusation and even more bothered by the truth behind it. Even broken up, he knew you well.

Instead of answering his question, you lifted up your wrist. “Oh, here, forgot this.”

You unclasped the gold bracelet he’d given you for your birthday, took four big steps towards him and held out a fist. He put his palm up towards the sky and watched as you dropped it inside.

“You’re giving this back to me?”

“Yes,” you said simply. “S’not mine.”

“Yes it is,” he eyed you suspiciously. “It was a gift.”

“Well I don’t want it,” you shrugged, second-guessed the anger-fueled decision now but nodded confidently as if it didn’t hurt to see him.

Harry looked up at Bryn when she shifted uncomfortably on her feet and shrugged. “Sorry--we didn’t think you’d be home.” You made a note to reprimand her later for apologizing, but for now you returned to your spot beside her.

He threw a thumb over his shoulder, “yeah--heard the gate alarm.”

“This was her trying to sneak in,” Bryn laughed.

“Well I could hear you bickering...” he said casually, apparently unperturbed by your presence.

“Okay, well, there you go.” You interrupted their exchange. “Those are yours now.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Bryn clapped her hands together. “Glad this was so uncomfortable for all of us.”

You turned on your heels and tugged her arm back towards the sidewalk, hoping you didn’t have to wait too long for the bus to come.

He stood there for a second, watched as you both crossed the street and headed for the corner. Leaves fell from the trees overhead and you shrunk into your scarf when the thought occurred: you never thought this would be your relationship with Harry.

By the time you broke and looked back over your shoulder to see him, the door was shut, and he was gone.

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