#she deserved the closure more than anyone

[rebouks]

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Transcript:

Courtney: I know you’re not asleep. Oscar: Obviously. Courtney: You’re still angry with me..?

Oscar: [sighs] I’m just.. angry in general. Courtney: It wouldn’t have been fair to-… Oscar: Give it a rest.

Courtney: I thought you were trying to quit? Oscar: I’m not in the mood for quitting right now. Courtney: Let’s not waste our time worrying about Wyatt.

Oscar: Some of us aren’t as forgiving as you. Courtney: I won’t apologise. Oscar: I wasn’t assuming you would.

Courtney: I doubt he’ll come back. Oscar: Well.. we’ll never know what he’s up to now, will we? Courtney: No…

…

Courtney: How often do you wonder where we’d be if I hadn’t given you another chance? Oscar: Frequently. Courtney: Do you think you deserved it?

Oscar: Probably not. Courtney: Arguable-.. my point being, everyone deserves a second chance. Oscar: That’s arguable.

Courtney: He risked everything by coming here, how can you not see that he was being sincere? Oscar: How can you be so comfortable letting him go? Courtney: I don’t think he’s a threat, not now.

Oscar: Can you spare some of that optimism? Courtney: I actually feel better, y’know? Like he’s not just a heartless villain in my mind anymore. Oscar: [scoffs] You do you-.. but I’m glad you feel that way.

Courtney: I know he ought to be behind bars, but by that logic, so does Bruno; and I don’t think we get to pick and choose like that. Oscar: Maybe you’re right-.. it’s so fucked up though. Courtney: What part of all this hasn’t been?

Oscar: [snorts] True-.. who would’ve guessed that he’d be the one to finish it? Courtney: People change. Oscar: I sure fucking hope so.

#somnium #sims 4 #storytelling #ts4 story #sims story #simblr #oscar finch #courtney mcmahan #robin finch #who's right who's wrong?! #idk #but i live for cookie just laying it out like that and sticking to her decision #she deserved the closure more than anyone #😌 #i'm excited to break down a lot of stuff once we're finished.. WHICH IS REAL SOON!! but especially this weeks shenanigans #eeeeeeeeeee

[avatar-anna]

Champagne Problems, Part Two

IT"S FINISHED! whew, that only took forever. part of the reason this took so long to write is that i was obsessing over if it would be as good as part 1, so hopefully y'all like it (but please be nice if you don't). final word count is about 22-23k words...so buckle in, grab a snack, and enjoy!

Part One

*.*

Japan

Harry walked alone through the busy streets of Tokyo, his chin tucked close to his chest and his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his long overcoat. There was a cadence to his steps as he kept time with the song that played on a loop in his head. It wasn't one that anyone here but him would know. Well, him and one other person, but she was a world away.

Rounding the corner, Harry turned into the cafe he'd been frequenting since he'd arrived. He nodded to the shopkeeper before heading over to the counter, pulling an old, weathered vinyl from his bag.

"This is the one I was talking to you about," he said by way of greeting. "It truly is a phenomenal record."

Harry handed over the record, hesitating a little before letting go of it. He'd been listening to it nonstop since he'd left Los Angeles, and parting with it was more difficult than he originally thought it would be. When he first came to the cafe, he'd looked for it within the crammed shelves huddled in the corner. The shopkeeper had never even heard of it, and Harry could only imagine what Y/n would say if she knew. She'd been the one to introduce him to it, the memory of that conversation in her apartment seared into his brain.

"Wings?" Harry had asked, not quite suspiciously, but the glare Y/n sent over his shoulder made it seem like he'd already written it off. Her glare is so cute, he remembered thinking, admiring the adorable furrow of her brow as she rooted through a collection of vinyls that was bigger than anything Harry had ever seen.

"It'll change your life," she'd promised, before sliding the record out of its sleeve and putting it on the turntable. Her record player was littered with stickers, some too faded or covered by others to see them properly.

She'd grinned as the opening chords to the first track played, settling next to Harry as she picked up her wine glass, her lips puckering around it to take a sip. She hadn't noticed him staring until about a minute later, when her eyes met his. Her brows had furrowed once more, but this time it was more confused. She'd nudged Harry's leg with her foot, which was covered in a purple patterned fuzzy sock.

"It's your turn, isn't it?" she'd asked, eyes darting to the Scrabble board on the coffee table.

Harry remembered taking the wine glass from Y/n's hands and setting it on the table next to the board. He remembered taking her face in his hands and kissing her. He remembered her squeak of surprise but that she didn't pull away.

Their very first kiss.

The memory of her delicate hands sliding into his hair, of her crawling into his lap, the little noise she made as his teeth nipped at her bottom lip—it was all-consuming as Harry sat down at his usual table at the cafe a million miles from Y/n and Los Angeles.

"It'll changed your life," she'd promised him. Little did he know, she already had.

*.*

A week after Harry left, you received a text from your ex, a total surprise seeing as you hadn't spoken to him since you'd broken up.

Gavin: I heard about what happened with you and my sister. Can we meet somewhere and talk?

That message sat in your inbox without a response for hours as you tried to work up the courage to say yes. You knew you needed to, you knew you would feel better after the fact, that both of you deserved closure after the colossal end to your relationship, but every time your thumb hovered over the keyboard, you chickened out.

Until finally, you wrote, Okay.

Seeing Gavin again was a trip. He looked the same, yet so different at the same time. He had facial hair for one thing, and his hair was a couple inches longer than it had been when you were together. Deep down, you assumed a public shaming on his part, you feared he would just berate you for all the ways you'd hurt him and that he hated you for breaking his heart and humiliating him.

But that had never been who Gavin was. Your ex was kind and honorable, he tipped generously on dinner dates and warmed up socks for you in the dryer because he knew how cold you got after a long day at work. He was the definition of a sweetheart, and assuming the worst about him was just the fear and insecurity talking.

"I'm—I'm so sorry, Gavin," you said, trying to hold all the excess of emotion brimming to the surface as you walked beside him. You'd agreed on a walk through the park as opposed to sitting down somewhere, both of you perhaps too nervous to sit still.

Gavin merely nodded, which was more than you could've asked for given the circumstances. "Thank you. So much time has passed, but...it feels nice to hear."

It was a while before either of you said anything. Los Angeles wasn't a frozen tundra by any means, but it was quite brisk by the ocean, and you crossed your arms across your chest to retain a bit of heat.

Then, Gavin said, "I...I just need to know why. Did I do something? I thought things were good between us. I mean I wanted to—"

Maybe it was the cold, but his cheeks were rosy as his voice tapered off. "You didn't do anything wrong, Gav," you said, wanting to take his hand but refraining. It didn't feel like something you could do anymore. Even if two years had come and gone, you couldn't make yourself cross that line. It didn't feel right.

You didn't know how to sugarcoat your words, but you hoped time would soften the blow. "I just...I realized that you were in love with me and I—I just wasn't. I wanted to be, I wanted to be in love with you, but—And then I panicked. I overheard your mom and sister talking about you wanting to propose, and I just couldn't lead you on. I couldn't let you do that knowing you deserved better than what I could give you.

"But it killed me, Gavin," you said, tearing up just thinking about it. "Hurting you is the worst thing I've ever done, and I've—I've hated myself for putting you through that, and I couldn't face you after, which was unfair of me."

"I just wanted an explanation," Gavin said quietly, his head bent so you couldn't see his face. "All I ever wanted was to understand. I think that hurt more than you breaking up with me, that you couldn't offer me that decency."

You nodded with a sniffle, keeping your eye on the slate blue of the ocean and the clouds covering your favorite shade of sky blue. "It was selfish of me to ignore you, I know that. I just...couldn't. I was scared that you would convince me to come back when that wasn't really what I wanted, and with your family and friends constantly messaging me, I just thought staying away was for the best."

"Y/n, what—what messages? What are you talking about?"

"You really don't know?" Perhaps you shouldn't have been surprised, Gavin's family would never do or say anything to him that would make them look bad in his eyes. But so much time had passed that you thought it would've slipped. He'd heard about the coffee house incident, after all.

With shaking hands, you reached for your phone in the back pocket of your jeans. After scrolling through your messages, you passed it to Gavin, letting him look for himself. He was quiet as he looked over the messages from his sister. There were others, but Larissa's were the most vicious. A more mentally sound person would've deleted them ages ago, but you liked to punish yourself when you were feeling particularly low.

"I don't hold any of this against you," you said. "I know you're not your family, but I just...I don't know."

"I wish I'd known about all this before," Gavin mumbled with a shake of his head. "I'm sorry for them."

"Thank you."

You didn't know what to say after that, you weren't even sure you wanted to dwell on the past anymore. It had gone by so quickly in your eyes, but two years suddenly felt like ten. You felt older, more jaded as you walked next to the man you were almost engaged to.

"Are you happy?" you asked suddenly, stopping at a bench and sitting down.

Gavin sat down next to you. He handed your phone back before sighing. "I am. I wasn't for a while, but I am. You?"

You nodded. "Learning to be. I think I was...in a rough place before I started seeing you, and now I think I'm finally on the other side of it."

Gavin's grin was familiar. It felt good to see it, but it didn't give you the butterflies that it used to. Maybe just a little relief. You smiled back, nudging him with your shoulder. "You seeing anyone?"

The blush on Gavin's cheeks told you everything you needed to know, and knowing he moved on settled something in you. "Yeah. We've been together about a year now."

Sometimes you daydreamed about who Gavin would be with when he eventually moved on. Someone perky, but not in an obnoxious way. Maybe she liked to paint and drew pictures of his profile while they had picnics together, because picnics were the kind of dates they would go on. They would hold hands in the popcorn bowl at the movies and wear matching sweaters on Christmas. The girl who would truly steal Gavin's heart would be just as sweet and generous as he was and would make his lunches for work and wipe his mouth at dinner with a smile and love him with her entire being because he deserved it.

"That's wonderful, Gav," you said earnestly. You took his hand in yours and squeezed, hoping he knew you were telling the truth. The only thing you hoped was that he kept her far, far away from his family.

"Are you? Seeing anyone?"

A simple question, and yet you didn't know how to offer a simple answer. Eventually, you shook your head. "Uh...no."

"Brothers scaring the line of willing suitors?" he joked, knowing full well how your brothers could be.

Laughing, you shook your head. "No, nothing like that, I just—It's complicated, I guess."

You couldn't quite believe that you were having this conversation today, especially with Gavin. But talking to him had always come easy, it was one of the things you liked best about being with him.

"If you can believe it," you added, a little humor in your voice. "I was the one who was ready to take things further."

For a moment, you worried you'd taken things too far, but his brows just raised amusingly. "No shit. Really?"

"He wasn't ready. Just my luck. I finally get my shit together and he takes off to another continent."

You didn't resent Harry for leaving. He'd done what was best for him, but that didn't mean the timing didn't suck. You finally felt comfortable and confident enough to be open with someone, and they fled the country.

Okay, so Harry didn't flee the country, but you felt the blow to your ego no matter how rational you were about the situation.

"He'll come around," Gavin promised, which took you by surprise. "You're probably not aware, but you're very easy to fall in love with, Y/n."

Your cheeks flushed, feeling Gavin's words right down to your toes. It didn't feel romantic in any sort of way, but there was some reassurance. Gavin knew you well, and he had been a good friend.

And yet, the only thing you could think as you continued to catch up with your ex was, Then why is it so hard for me to fall in love?

*.*

Harry hadn't realized it, but he'd started to keep a list in his head, a mental tally of all the little things he learned about Y/n and that made her who she was.

The list had started with small trivial things like her coffee order and that she seemed to be particularly fond of wearing bandanas in her hair or that she always carried the same canvas tote on her shoulder, one that read, "You're Doing Great," in squiggly blue writing. From there, the list grew, and he suddenly began to collect bits of information from Y/n like valuable trading cards—what it was like growing up with three older brothers, how long she stayed in Nashville before moving out to Los Angeles, and what the perfect record was for when she was feeling sad. Harry wanted to know everything, every little piece she was willing to give him until he understood even the smallest gesture.

"Why don't you perform your songs?"

It was a question that lingered in the back of his mind for weeks now. Harry had heard Y/n sing on multiple occasions as they wrote together, and he couldn't help but think that she was the whole package. She could sing, had the kind of voice that was soft and low, a little raspy but easy to harmonize with. She wrote incredible songs that held so much depth and emotion and she could play multiple instruments. Harry could see her selling out stadiums and connecting to people through music that she wrote and performed. Yet she didn't.

"I never really had the desire to," Y/n said with a shrug. They were in his backyard, sitting around a bonfire with a bottle of wine between them. It was her turn to pick, and Chris Stapelton was crooning through her phone's speaker.

"Is it like a stage fright thing?"

"No, not at all," Y/n said. "I just don't think that life was made for me, you know? I don't know if I could handle being famous."

Harry supposed he understood what she meant. He loved his life, but it wasn't always a walk in the park. But it did make him wonder if she would ever be with someone like him, someone who did lead a life that she thought she couldn't handle. For the first time since he'd met her, Harry decided he didn't want to know.

"What about...singing backup or joining your favorite musician on tour once he releases the greatest album since...So?"

"I didn't peg you for a Peter Gabriel fan," she murmured, immediately recognizing the title, and Harry couldn't help but smile a little at the fact that she knew exactly what album he was referring to. "But, I guess so. If it was for a friend."

Harry tucked that little nugget of information away. Tour was worlds away at the moment, but it was always good to think ahead, especially when he knew he needed a keyboardist replacement.

Looking up, he admired Y/n in the glow of the bonfire, his heart beating rapidly even though she wasn't even doing anything. Ever since their first kiss a week ago, he just wanted more. His brain could hardly keep up with his heart and how badly it longed for her. And she didn't even realize the effect she had on him. She drove him crazy.

And that scared him. Harry had only recently broken up with his ex, and he didn't think it was possible to feel so strongly for someone after coming out of a pretty serious relationship with someone else. He knew he should untangle the strings, that if he let things get too far, they'd get messy, and he and Y/n would both end up hurt.

But that voice in his head that told him to be careful became a low buzz as Y/n stood up and shuffled over to him before placing herself in his lap. Her fingers came up to play with the hair that curled at the nape of Harry's neck, and he couldn't help but close his eyes at the feeling, at her closeness, at the smell of her perfume that lingered on her clothes.

"I don't know what I'm doing here," she whispered, almost like she was talking to herself and not to Harry. "And I don't have any expectations, but I'm okay with it if you are."

Yet. Y/n didn't have any expectations yet. He knew the familiar thudding of his heart, the excited flutter in his stomach as he leaned into her touch. Of course there would be expectations, but Harry found himself nodding anyway, unable to deny either of them the pleasure of her lips sliding lightly against his. Y/n had never initiated anything between them before, and her tentative kiss told Harry she was unsure of herself. At first glance, she came off as unsure when it came to most things, but Harry learned that she held within herself a quiet confidence that he admired.

Harry stood up with her in his arms as he led them back inside. He didn't know where this would lead, tonight or any night to follow. He didn't know if Y/n was ready to sleep with him, and he honestly wasn't sure if he was either. But he wanted her close and to feel those gentle hands a little firmer in his hair. That was all he knew, and he let himself not think about anything else.

The tangles of his feelings were positively knotted, and despite his long list of things he knew about Y/n, he still didn't know where her heart truly lay. But if she was willing to walk through the fire blind, then so was he.

*.*

Two weeks into Harry being gone, and you were starting to wonder when you'd become so pathetic.

In the time since Harry left for Japan, you hadn't written a single song, not even a lyric. It was ludicrous. You'd written by yourself your entire career, but after a couple months spent with a writing partner, you were rendered insipirationless.

Not to mention semi-friendless.

It wasn't that Harry's friends didn't want to hang out, you just weren't sure you could. Outside of Sylvia, you didn't hang out with Harry's team without him, and it just felt weird to start doing so now. You didn't shy away from them when you saw them in the hallways of the building you all worked in, but you never knew what to say past a casual greeting.

Funnily enough, though, you'd said everything you needed to say to Gavin. Meeting up with him eased a heaviness in your chest you'd been carrying around with you for the last two years. You both were able to get the closure that you'd been denying yourselves, and it felt good to get everything out in the open, to receive Gavin's forgiveness after punishing yourself for such a long time.

Seeing Gavin and talking to him left you feeling lighter, but it also left you a little hollow to. With no rain cloud hanging over your head anymore, you didn't know what to do with yourself. The concept of happiness was something you'd never thought you would get, and now that it was within reach you were hesitant.

"Maybe we need a sabbatical, pookie," you said to your dog, kissing his nose. "What do you think?"

Buddy Holly didn't have a response for you, he just tilted his head at the sound of your voice. Sighing, you scratched his head and pressed play on the movie you'd previously been watching before your dog unceremoniously climbed into your lap.

Now that Harry was gone on his journey of self-discovery, you'd gone back to spending your nights alone. In theory, it should've been easy. Before Harry, being alone was second nature, but your first night alone you were at a loss. You kept wanting to reach for your phone and call him, send him a text about the record you were listening to or the ridiculous thing Buddy had done that day. You didn't realize of much Harry had engrained himself into your life, and now he was half a world away.

Reaching out wasn't an option, either, no matter how much you wanted to. He didn't tell you much for his reasons for leaving, a "writing retreat," he claimed, but you knew it was more than that. There was shit he needed to figure out, shit regarding his past relationship, so you felt the ball was in his court.

The next day, you were on the elevator going up to work, arguing with your brother on the phone.

"Nothing's wrong, Hayden," you insisted, rubbing a tired hand over your face.

"No, there definitely is. Evan, Andrew, and I all agree," Hayden said. "Something's definitely wrong with you. And when something's wrong with you, it's usually one of three things. Menstruation, a guy, or one of us, and seeing as we haven't done anything, and your period doesn't—"

"Oh my God, Hayden!" you groaned as the elevator doors opened. "I'm not...menstruating. Jesus! The fuck is wrong with you?"

Hayden kept jabbering in your ear, but you weren't listening anymore because the elevator doors had opened to reveal someone on the other side. Mitch, Harry's friend was standing there, eyes wide as he looked at you, clearly having heard your side of the conversation with your brother.

God, could this day get any worse? you thought. Shutting your eyes, you wondered if you stood there long enough with your eyes closed, the elevator doors would close and take you straight to hell or you would maybe just disappear on the spot. Either would be appreciated.

"Hayden, I have to call you back."

"You're still coming to my game this weekend right?" he asked.

"Wearing the other team's jersey," you muttered, hanging up as your brother began to protest.

Since the elevator doors stayed open and you didn't spontaneously combust, you opened your eyes. "Hey."

Mitch nodded. "Hey, Y/n."

The air was so incredibly awkward, and you wondered why you weren't sprinting toward your studio and locking yourself in permanently. But neither of you moved, and now you felt the need to explain yourself. "I...I wish I had an explanation other than my brothers still seem to ruin my life from hundreds of miles away, but I don't."

You finally stepped out of the elevator and moved around Mitch, who stepped inside. He still had that tense smile on his face, and you wondered if the two of you would ever be able to make eye contact again. Not that you ever did all that much before this God-awful incident. Just another reason to avoid Harry's friends.

"Right. H mentioned you had brothers," he said. "See you around, Y/n."

For my own sanity, I hope not, you prayed to whoever was listening.

*.*

"Do you ever think about what you would be doing if you weren't doing...this?" Y/n asked, gesturing vaguely around her.

Harry looked down to where she was spread out on the floor, her head rested in his lap while he leaned against his sofa. He wasn't quite sure how they ended up on the floor, but he didn't dare move, resisting the urge to run his fingers through her hair. It was shiny, and smelled faintly of apples. He wondered if it was as soft as he imagined.

Blinking, he stumbled around in his brain for an answer, clearing his head of thoughts of silky hair passing through his fingers. "Honestly? No, not really."

"You don't?"

Harry shrugged even though Y/n's eyes were closed. She did that often if there was music playing, as if she was trying to absorb every note into her body while maintaining a conversation. Right now they were listening to one of Harry's current favorites: a Joni Mitchell album he'd grown up listening to with his mum. He remembered when he used to scramble for answers in interviews when he was asked about his favorite artist or album, trying to come up with an answer that the media would want to hear without appearing fake. He'd list classic rock bands like Fleetwood Mac and wear old band t-shirts from the seventies. He didn't not like those artists, he loved them. But when Y/n asked about his favorite record in his collection, he didn't hesitate to reach for Joni Mitchell, knowing she wouldn't judge him for his answer.

"No. I was so young when I auditioned for the X-Factor," Harry explained. "I don't even think I knew what I wanted to study in school then, so it's hard to know what I would be doing now if it weren't for all...this."

And I wouldn't have met you, he thought but kept that to himself. Neither of them was ready for those kinds of words if he was being honest. Y/n was skittish about feelings at the best of times, and he didn't know where his feelings for her started, and getting over his ex ended. It gave him a headache if he thought about it too long, so he didn't.

Y/n sat up, and Harry resisted the urge to pull her back to him. As they hung out more and more, he had this overwhelming desire to be near her as much as possible. A hollowness would form in his chest if he didn't seek her out at the studio, leaving him blushing like an idiot every time he left his friends behind as he walked down the familiar hallway to her door. None of them ever said anything outright, but he could practically hear their teasing thoughts, but he couldn't help it. Y/n had drawn him in from the moment he'd laid eyes on her.

"Maybe you'd be a florist," she said with a small grin.

"A florist?"

"Yeah." Y/n's grin grew, and Harry swore his heart grew with it. When he initially started spending time with her, or bugging her, more like, she hardly smiled. He thought it was such a shame. Not only because Y/n had a beautiful smile, but because she felt like she couldn't. Harry never wanted her to feel like she couldn't be happy, least of all around him. "You could have this big truck and deliver flowers to baby showers and weddings and other big occasions."

"Oh yeah? And where are you in this scenario?" he asked, somewhat nervous to hear the answer.

A blush crept up Y/n's cheeks as she looked at him. "In the passenger seat."

*.*

The third week Harry was gone, a stranger popped into your studio. A sense of deja vu had run through you as you looked up to find someone occupying the space in your doorframe, only Harry never knocked to make his presence known. You'd always just been aware of him when he entered the room.

"Can I help you?" you asked. You were working on a song that you actually quite liked. A new angle, a different approach to songs that you wanted to see through, and interruptions weren't going to help.

"Mitch said to come find you," he said. He looked a little nervous at having disrupted your work, so you eased up on your stare. "He said you could help us?"

Us? you thought. You supposed that it wasn't too far fetched that Harry's team would make themselves busy while he was off on sabbatical, or whatever it was he'd been doing in Japan. You hadn't heard from him much, and you tried not to let that hurt your feelings too much.

Brows furrowed, you said, "I'm sorry, I don't know how I would help—"

"He said you've written for country artists before?" the guy said. "We're sort of stuck and he said to come find you, so..."

Sighing, you stood up, but not before jotting a couple notes down in your journal. Perhaps it was kismet that the song you'd been playing around with today had been country in your mind. The prospect of writing with anyone other than Harry felt odd, uncomfortable. But Harry wasn't here, and you didn't know when he would be back and you couldn't just hide in your studio because he'd left.

You didn't know what to expect as you followed the man, Daniel, he'd finally introduced, led you to a studio a couple rooms away from yours. You'd met Harry's writing and production team a number of times, but Harry wasn't a country artist, so Mitch was clearly helping out with a different project, which meant introducing yourself to a whole new group.

Mitch was waiting with one other person, a young woman who was about your age or younger. She had blond curly hair and light blue eyes, a smile on her face at something Mitch said. When you entered the room, you couldn't help but think back to last week when you'd completely embarrassed yourself in front of Mitch. You hadn't seen him since, and even though it was probably unlikely, you'd hoped you'd never have to again.

Introductions were made quickly before a chair was pulled out for you. The young woman's name was Cam, and she was working on putting out her first ever single. "And album eventually, but we're starting out small," she said with a bashful grin. "I'm such a huge fan of your work, and when Mitch said you were just down the hall, I told him he had to introduce me. I swear I love every song you've ever written."

Nodding, you gripped the soft leather binding of your journal, wondering what Mitch was angling at here. From the short amount of time you'd spent with him, he seemed rather quiet. A chill person who mostly kept to himself. You weren't sure why you were being dragged into one of his projects.

"Yeah. That's where I started my career," you said. "I'm sorry—Did you want my help with a song?"

"The whole album too, hopefully," Cam said, and you could see it in her eyes how bad she wanted this. She was ambitious, but not in a way that made you want to run back to your room and have nothing to do with this project. You eyed her scuffed boots and the worn friendship bracelets on her wrists and the hope that lined her body as she waited for you to say something.

"I usually work alone," you said. "But, I—I did happen to be writing something a little country today if you wanted to take a look."

You handed your journal over to the young woman, trying to decide if you wanted to be part of this little team. On the one hand, you thought Harry would be the only person you'd feel comfortable writing with, but...if he had a team, why couldn't you? Perhaps Harry had opened you up to the possibility of branching out and trying things you'd closed yourself off to in the past.

At the very least, you decided, you would hear her out, see how you gelled with this small group. If not for any other reason than as a small favor to an acquaintance. You didn't know Mitch all that well, but you considered him someone you knew.

And to be honest, maybe you were getting tired of staying holed up in a studio by yourself all the time.

So now you were meeting with Cam, Mitch, and Daniel regularly. That first day, you stayed at the studio late at night workshopping ideas and getting a feel for the sound and vision Cam was going for. And it was easy. Bouncing ideas off each other, picking up the guitar and playing a potential riff and letting Mitch carry it somewhere else, working out harmonies and melodies with Cam. You'd left the studio later than you ever had that night, but energy coursed through your veins as you left the building.

You'd never been a part of something at the start with the means to see it through. You usually wrote songs and sold them to whoever wanted them, and with Harry, you'd joined in songwriting when he and his team were well underway, but this...this was new, and you didn't hate it. In fact, you were looking forward to meeting the next day, and the next, and the next...

Weeks flew by as you worked on this album, and you suddenly lived off takeout boxes and snacks as you spent many a late night as you worked on song after song, eager to see this project come to life. There wasn't necessarily a deadline, but you were all just eager to keep working on what you all knew was something special. And today Mitch was going to teach you how to play the drums while Cam met with her record label for an hour. It felt like there was finally light at the end of a very long, dark tunnel, one that you'd been winding through the last two years. It felt good to feel this light again, even your brothers got off your back a little, though you knew that wouldn't last very long.

"I'm on my way right now, and I'm bringing Buddy because he's being extra clingy today," you said into the phone. "He's also my reason for going home at a reasonable hour—"

Time stopped as you opened the door to your apartment. Your heart was in your throat, partly because you were startled to find someone on the other side, and then because your eyes finally registered who was on the other side.

"Y/n?"

Blinking, you quickly told Cam you had to go before hanging up the phone, slipping it in your coat pocket before letting it drop to the floor. You ran a hand over your face, wondering if you'd magically conjured him to your door, or if you were so tired you were suddenly delirious, but when you uncovered your eyes, he was still there, hands tucked in his pockets and a suitcase resting by his feet, a cat carrier on top of it.

"Harry? What—What are you doing here? When did you—"

There was no time to think or speak or breathe as Harry surged forward, his hands suddenly out of his pockets and settling deep in your hair, and kissed you.

The kiss was bruising, making it hard to think straight, making it hard to think about anything but him. His cologne flooded your senses as if you'd never smelled it before, making you sigh against his mouth and giving him ample opportunity to slide his tongue against yours as he backed you against the doorframe with a soft thud.

Your hands flew of their own accord, reaching beneath Harry's coat and gripping the shirt he wore beneath it. You needed to feel him, to know he was really here in front of you, that he wasn't going to evaporate in your hands leaving you with only the memory of his kiss. You'd had that particular dream one too many times.

Harry's hands smoothed down your sides, rucking up your shirt and setting your skin on fire when his thumbs brushed your ribcage. Your breaths stuttered until you finally had to pull back to catch it Instinctively, Harry followed, his mouth searching for yours, then your neck, but you held him in place for a moment.

"Wait," you said, breaths shallow. Harry stopped immediately, eyes roving your face in a similar way to how you were doing so. When he finally met your gaze, a small, shy smile, spread across your lips. "H—Hi."

Harry's responding grin was radiant. "Hi."

*.*

"I don't understand, when—when did you get back?"

It was safe to say you weren't going into the studio. There were about ten seconds of protesting before you finally caved, and it had nothing to do with Harry's lips on your neck or his hands sneaking beneath your shirt. "Stay," Harry had mumbled. "Please? There's so much I want to say."

So you stayed, though you hadn't really spoken much. You and Harry had ended up on your couch huddled up together under a blanket, Buddy Holly dozing at your feet. You kept waiting for him to say whatever it was he wanted to say, but he kept quiet. It was nice for a while, but you began to itch with the need for answers. You didn't want to immediately fall back into old habits the second he came back, even if laying flush against his chest was the most peaceful you felt in weeks. You were nervous to talk to him, to hear him say that after staying away for two months, he still didn't want a relationship. But even so, it would be better to know the truth and start getting over it now than to hold out hope.

"Today," Harry said. "I came straight here from the airport."

"Why? Wouldn't you want to go home? Get settled. Sweet Pea probably misses home."

Harry raised his head from where he'd been resting it in the crook of your neck. His brows raised suspiciously to where his cat was dozing on top of Buddy, as if she'd never left. "I think she's rather comfortable."

"You're awfully comfortable too," you said under your breath. Then, even though you felt so warm in his embrace, you sat up, putting some distance between yourself and Harry.

You could tell he wanted to protest, his sleepy eyes and mussed brown curls covering his forehead in a messy tangle told you that all he wanted was to fall asleep next to you. You wanted that too, but your mind kept drifting back to that last conversation, to that last exchange of words, and you let them keep that small bubble of distance between you and him.

"I need to know why you're here, H," you said, raising your knees up to your chest.

Harry could hear the seriousness in your voice, his expression sobering a little. He sat up too, facing you as he took up his place at the corner of the couch. There were only a couple inches between you, but it felt like Harry was still in Japan with how distant you felt from him now. He was home, but was he really? You didn't know how your friendship was going to evolve from here. You supposed you could be okay with just being his friend. It would sting, but you would get over it.

Eventually.

You hoped.

"I...just knew that this was where I needed to be," he said, not meeting your eye. "I came home and the only person I wanted to see was you."

His words meant more than you cared to admit. They filled you with warmth, bringing a flush to your cheeks that you prayed Harry didn't see.

"I missed you too," was all you could think of to say.

"And I—I want more," Harry said. "I was halfway across the world, and I was writing and walking around the city, and all I wanted was to share those moments with you and write with you and wake up next to you. I just...I want you in my life, Y/n."

"As your friend?" you asked, your voice stuck somewhere in your throat.

"However you'll have me."

Your heart leaped in your chest, but you stopped yourself from launching across the couch into his arms. It was all too good to be true. Harry wasn't ready for a relationship before he left, and you'd been gracious and understood where he was coming from. And now that a few weeks had passed, he suddenly wanted to be whatever you wanted him to be. In the back of your mind, the fact that he hadn't said "boyfriend" pricked a sensitive part of your brain. It was silly and minuscule, and it shouldn't have mattered, so you tried not to let it.

Still, you were unsure. You knew Harry would never be so cruel as to feed you words for the sake of placating you, but something left you hesitating. Maybe it was that the last time you saw Harry, he told you he couldn't give you what you wanted and now he was saying he could, or maybe your heart was still protecting you from potential pain, you weren't sure. But you couldn't give in.

Almost as if he could read the jumbled thoughts running around in your head, Harry inched toward you, his expression soft and open. "I can tell you're unsure, and I don't blame you," he said, taking a chance and reaching a hand across the couch to hold yours. "Let me prove it to you."

Brows furrowed, you tilted your head to the side. "Prove it?"

"We'll go slow," Harry said as he nodded and moved closer. Close enough to tip your chin up with his knuckle. "We can do that, can't we? We don't have to rush things. We can just...go on a date and see what happens, right?"

Despite the hesitation, a smile twitched at the corner of your lips. "Harry Styles...are you asking me on a date?"

Harry's responding grin was wide and sweet as honey. "Only if you're saying yes."

Eight weeks ago, you'd stepped out of your comfort zone by asking Harry for more, and watching him walk away hurt more than you ever thought it would. Your instinct was to hide, to crawl back into your shell before you could get hurt again. But you knew Harry had been hurt before too, and now he was trying. Even though they'd both had their hearts broken for different reasons and had every reason not to give into their feelings and hide, preferring to be alone.

It took you two years to..."forgive yourself" didn't seem like the right words. To be ready to put yourself into the world again, to allow yourself the possibility of hurting and being hurt in that way again. Your scars had healed over into faint white lines after two whole years. Nearly imperceptible, but still there, a subtle but constant reminder of what you stood to lose if you ruined things again. But also a reminder that you could love and lose and still heal, and maybe even love again. Harry hadn't been there when he left, and at the time you hoped he would be. And maybe part of you knew he would be, because you'd gotten there too in your own way.

The hope that kindled in your chest made you nervous, but it made you excited too.

"I—I don't want you to feel like you have to do this because—"

Harry's index finger was on your lips before you could say anything else. Your eyes nearly crossed as you looked down your nose at it, and you heard his chuckle at what was most likely a silly look on your face. "I know I don't have to do anything, Y/n. I needed some time to clear my thoughts and untangle all of my feelings. I want this. I want you."

Over your time spent with Harry, you'd come to realize he had expressive eyes. While he kept a lot to himself and didn't share much unless it was through songwriting, his eyes said everything. This close to his face, you could see the honesty, the earnestness. You decided to believe him, to believe in whatever had been forming between you since the first time you'd met.

Not holding back, you did lunge for him this time, but gently, seeing as he was so close. Harry seemed surprised by your sudden movements but didn't stop you as you took his face in your hands and kissed him for all he was worth. You felt his face slowly split into a grin as his hands roved up and down your back, as if he was finally reacquainting himself with your body. Or maybe it was that this kiss was different from all the others, with different expectations and intentions and promises for more.

"What happened to slow?" he asked, teasing as you nipped at his ear.

"Tell me to stop," you said, feeling out of breath.

He didn't, you knew he wouldn't, but that only made him grin even more. "I still want to do things properly," he told you, leaning back against the couch and taking you with so that you were on top of him, your body flush against his. "I want to take you out, I want to hold your hand and pull your chair out for you at dinner."

Resting on your elbows, you lightly traced the delicate planes of his face with your finger. Harry's eyes tracked your movements while he waited for you to answer, kissing the pad of your index finger when it passed over his lips. You smiled a little, unsure of where all this giddiness was coming from but hoping it wouldn't go away.

"I want that too," you murmured before kissing the tip of his nose. "But maybe that can start tomorrow."

Harry's hand came up to cradle the side of your face, and you couldn't help but lean into his touch. Everything already felt different. New and fragile and breakable. So, so breakable.

"Your heart was glass, I dropped it," you'd written way back. You had the potential to break Harry's heart. But the notion that you wouldn't was so intrinsic in that moment, you felt like the only way you would crack the glass this time was by squeezing too hard, by liking him too much.

You didn't know what you would do if Harry would drop yours.

It was a terrifying thought, one that was too dreadful for the peaceful bliss taking over your apartment. Harry was looking at you like your hair was made of stars or pure sunlight, and it warmed every inch of you down to your bones as he rubbed his thumb back and forth across your cheekbone.

"I can get behind that," he said quietly.

After that, you finally relaxed. Your head found purchase on his chest, comfortable against the soft material of his sweatshirt despite the firmness of his body beneath you. You breathed in deep, holding it in for a few seconds before letting it all out in one soft exhale. With that breath, you felt the last of your doubts flutter away—for now, at least—allowing you to believe in the promise Harry offered you.

*.*

"Come on. If you're not going to let me go to work, you're gonna help me here."

You managed to untangle yourself from Harry, who pouted at you as he remained sprawled out on your bed. Leaving him there, you went to the front door to where you'd left your guitar case when you found him on your doorstep yesterday. Slipping your well-loved guitar from the case, you walked back over to Harry, who was now sitting up on the couch. His eyes tracked your every move as you made your way back over to him. His stare felt heated, causing a flush to your cheeks, but you ignored it as you settled on one end of the couch, resting the guitar in your lap.

"Looks like you already have something in mind," Harry said. He still sounded playful, but you knew he wasn't going to try and dissuade you from this. He was just as eager to write as a team as you were.

Writing without Harry while he was gone was strange. At first you thought you'd be fine, seeing as you'd preferred working in solitude most of your professional career. Yet when he left, you were unable to write. You found yourself looking for him, raising your head to ask what he thought of a melody when he wasn't there, thinking out loud as if he was still in the room to bounce ideas off of.

You'd missed him in more ways than one, that was certain. This new dynamic with Mitch had been good, fun even. You attributed your openness to teamwork to Harry, and now you were nearly finished with an album, a project you'd been part of from start to finish, something you'd never really been able to say before. You'd enjoyed going into the studio to work with Mitch, to share song ideas with Cam and see where she took them. If given the option, you would do it again in a heartbeat.

But something in you settled as you began to idly pluck at the strings of your guitar, Harry sifting through his duffle bag until he produced his leatherbound journal from it. You felt comfortable, complete, not an atom out of place as you began to sing the lyrics of a partial song you were going to work on with your team today.

"There is a town, somewhere down a country road," you sang softly. "I see it now, take it everywhere I go. The river sways, I can almost here it now. As if to say, 'You're not the only one who wants a way out.'"

"That's nice," Harry said, his thumb tapping against his knee in time with the music coming from your guitar. "Something new?"

"I've had the idea for a song about a small town for a while," you said, fingers still plucking at the guitar strings, though not with much intent while you spoke to Harry. "My hometown."

Nodding, Harry said, "You don't talk about your home much."

"Not much to say," you shrugged. "At least I thought so. Now I just keep thinking how so much has changed since I moved away. How much I've changed,"

"Good changes, I hope," he said.

You shrugged again, trying not to let the topic make you squirm. You normally didn't around Harry, but perhaps being away from him for so long had you shying away just a little. "Good and...neutral, I guess. Sometimes I feel like I've changed so much I can't even reconcile who I was then and the person I am now. Not really sure if that's a good or bad thing yet. To be determined, I suppose."

Harry processed the information quietly, letting the conversation end there. You fell into a comfortable silence as both of you played around with lyrics and melodies in your own heads. You eventually grabbed your own journal to jot notes down in, and at one point Harry took your guitar into his own lap to play around, humming quietly to himself.

His plucking of the strings slowly became something less abstract and more concrete, and it eventually became the backdrop to your thinking process. You liked the tune he played better than what you'd originally come up with, and you let it guide your pen as you jotted down words and phrases until you eventually had something that might've been a pre-chorus or a bridge. Shifting closer to Harry on the couch, you showed him what you had so far, hoping he'd be able to fill in the gaps like he normally could.

You rested your cheek on his shoulder as he took your journal and pen from your offering hands. For a minute, the only sound was the tapping of the pen in his hand in time with the melody he'd been playing moments ago. You watched with slow blinking eyes as he eventually began to scribble his own little notes beside yours, sometimes writing lyrics of his own and occasionally circling a word you'd written and putting a suggestion above it.

The scratching of pen on paper was an unusual lullaby, but sure enough, the warmth emanating from Harry's body and the familiarity of this moment, yet something precious and new blooming between you, was enough for your breaths to deepen, your blinks to become fewer and far between. Even after being on a plane all the way from Japan, the scent of Harry's cologne and whatever laundry detergent he used lingered on his clothes. It was so familiar, as much of a welcome home as him actually being here beside you.

Breathing in deep, you huddled closer to Harry. Feeling your movements at his side, Harry shifted so that you were leaning against him more comfortably, his body solid yet soft beneath your cheek. "I missed this," you murmured, the words clinging together as you inched closer and closer toward sleep. "I missed you."

There was no stiffening of his posture at the words, no hesitation or uncertainty as he said, "I missed you too."

*.*

"Don't leave again," Y/n said.

Harry was pretty sure she was already half asleep, was sure she wouldn't even remember this conversation when she woke up in a couple of hours. But even so, the words made him pause, the pen in his hand jerking almost imperceptibly.

Y/n hadn't brought up his departure since he'd come back yesterday. Even now, she didn't sound resentful, though that could've been the fact that she was seconds away from falling asleep, but Harry didn't think so. Yet in her current limbo between states of consciousness, she revealed something that she probably wouldn't have if she'd been fully awake.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you by going," he said, and he knew he was a bastard for saying it when she was seconds from falling asleep.

A deep breath, then another, then another.

"Don't leave me again," was all she said in reply, perhaps all she could muster just before unconsciousness finally settled over her like a blanket.

Harry's heart clenched. Don't leave me again, she told him. He'd learned rather quickly that despite all that she'd been through, Y/n hid a gentle heart behind all those walls she put up. A heart that had been battered and bruised and hidden away after so much unhappiness. Harry realized early on in their semi-friendship that he never wanted to be the reason for another wall between Y/n and the rest of the world; he wanted to be someone she could entrust to protect her gentle soul, to be someone who helped her realize she was much more fierce than she knew.

Knowing he'd caused her pain by leaving dug at him, even if leaving was in some ways very necessary. Harry needed that distance, that time away to clean up the mess his ex had left in him. Nothing about his previous relationship's demise was simple, and the things he'd begun to feel for Y/n while still trying to untangle himself from his ex only complicated things. Harry knew it would be a disservice to both himself and Y/n if he jumped into something he wasn't ready for. He felt horrible that night she'd laid all her cards on the table before him. He knew that it had taken a lot to state what she wanted from him so plainly, to realize that she was still deserving of more after what she'd been through. And Harry had to offer the same honesty, even if it was something even he didn't want to hear.

But it had been the right thing. For both of them. Of that he was sure. Harry had done a lot of introspecting, had allowed himself to simply be alone in a way he hadn't been for a long time. His last relationship was perhaps the most significant, but it was one in a rather long list of failed attempts to find love. His friends often teased him for not knowing how to not be in a relationship, and after this last breakup, he realized how right they were.

Harry liked Y/n. He was fascinated by her talent as a songwriter and enamoured by the person she was outside the studio. He liked her chunky patterned sweaters and the array of rings on her fingers that changed from day to day. He liked that she wasn't perfect, that she was shy to an almost stubborn degree, that he had to work hard to piece together who she was bit by bit until a beautiful mosaic was laid out in front of him.

But he needed to know that he knew how to be alone before giving himself over to her entirely. Who was he outside of a romantic relationship? Harry honestly had no idea, and while that had never even so much as itched his brain before, it terrified him after things ended with his ex. He owed it to himself to try to stand on his own two feet, to live on his own and know that he could be content to do so. He didn't need a relationship to be happy, that was what he set out to discover.

And once he did. Once he lived and wrote songs and got coffee and ate by himself, and didn't feel like an utter disaster, he knew he'd be okay.

Harry enjoyed himself in Japan. He'd committed himself to this soul-searching endeavor and actually came out on the other side of it pleased with himself. And at the end of it all, when he knew a relationship with Y/n wasn't something he needed but something he wanted, he knew he was ready to go home. He wanted her a lot, to be fair, so much so that he often wrote about her, and talked about her to the few friends he made in Japan. But being alone didn't kill him, and he was able to see that for himself the two months he was gone.

He left his feelings for his ex in Japan, letting every last bit of baggage he'd been quietly carrying around with him slide off his shoulders, holding onto those precious little blossoms of feeling for Y/n and bringing them home, right to her doorstep.

The plan hadn't been to go straight to her apartment, but that was where he told his driver to go when he slid into the backseat of the sleek black car his manager had sent to pick him up. Harry was actually supposed to go home and rest so he could meet with his label and discuss the progress of his album, but he stayed at Y/n's place anyway. He knew these next few months as the album went into recording and production mode wouldn't leave much time to spend alone with Y/n, and he needed these fleeting moments. He needed to hear all about the new album she was helping to write and what she and Buddy Holly had gotten up to while he was gone. He needed to kiss her, to touch her, to let her fall asleep against him while they wrote a song about a small town.

"I won't, I promise," Harry murmured, even though he knew Y/n was already asleep.

It was perhaps a promise to himself. He knew Y/n would never be that vulnerable, wouldn't reveal just how much she cared for him if she'd been entirely conscious. She'd been forgiving, if not a little hesitant when he showed up on her doorstep, but she'd never resented him for leaving. At least he thought she didn't. She'd been understanding when he left, but in her sleepy state, he saw a little bit of the hurt he'd inflicted by leaving, by rejecting her desire for something more with him.

Harry knew he'd done it for the right reasons, but guilt curled in his chest at the thought of hurting Y/n. He would commit himself to not doing it again, to be someone worthy of her vulnerability. Harry was aware of how precious it was for Y/n to open herself up to him like this. He wouldn't take that gift for granted.

Shifting around a bit, Harry took Y/n into his arms and stood up. He padded down the carpeted hallway to her bedroom, where a large, four-poster bed with a mountain of pillows and one stuffed animal lay on. He set her down on white sheets with little red polka dots, pulling up the covers over both of them. Y/n curled into Harry immediately, and he didn't even bother trying to shove away the warmth that spread through him.

With Y/n's cheek squished adorably against his chest, Harry rested his arm behind his head as his eyes flitted about her bedroom.

He'd been inside it a handful of times, but it never failed to amaze him, because for someone so convinced they were undeserving of love, they sure loved heart decorations. Retro Valentine hearts were mounted on one wall, twinkly lights dangling between them; pink and red heart-shaped candles remained unlit on her vanity, a heart-shaped guitar on a stand next to it. Everything centered around something pink or red—the sheets, the pillows, the jewelry dishes and mirrors, even the stuffed bunny under her pillow that Harry knew Y/n slept with, even if she wouldn't admit it.

It was a mystery he'd yet to solve, but he imagined that would come in time.

Soon enough, Harry's own eyes began to droop. He nestled deeper into the bed, trying not to completely drape himself over Y/n. They'd never actually spent the night in the same bed before last night. Sometimes they'd fall asleep together on the couch, but this was different. Last night, they'd collapsed into bed after staying up late talking, nearly well into the morning. There had been no tangled limbs or breaths keeping time because they slept so close together, just two people in dire need of sleep.

In some ways, Harry wondered if it was too much as they were only just beginning to explore this thing between them, but he couldn't make himself leave. He turned over so his back was to her, trying to provide a modicum of space should Y/n want it, but not even a minute later, an arm snaked around his waist, a cheek pressed against his back as one of her legs slotted between his.

It was safe to say Harry fell asleep with a small grin and a full heart.

*.*

The following weeks flew by, and you saw Harry every single moment that you could.

Now that his album was in the later stages of production, he was constantly in meetings for promotion—release dates, interviews, live performances, and concept art for the album. You stayed out of those conversations, as you had your own projects to complete and deadlines to meet. But you'd be lying if you said you weren't curious. You'd never been part of those conversations before, as you merely wrote your songs and sold the demos to artists or bands. Seeing an album from start to finish was intriguing, though perhaps part of the reason was the hand you played in it and how important Harry was to you.

But even with all of that going on, Harry stayed true to his word.

He made every moment count. Suddenly there were flowers on top of the grand piano when you entered your studio, and he stopped by whenever he could. Each petal, each little note attached to the bouquets, filled your stomach with butterflies. And after you were both done for the day, Harry invited you over to cook dinner and listen to records. The atmosphere was different than before Harry left, a more romantic feel in the air as you sat across from each other, the warm glow of candles the only lighting in the room.

With the public attention Harry tended to get, you both agreed to keep things quiet for now. You'd always preferred anonymity, and although you knew your relationship would eventually become public, you wanted it to stay between you and Harry and your friends and family. Hopefully in the future, when this precious thing between the two of you wasn't so new, you would feel more comfortable. Until then, it would be secret dates and romantic dinners from home, but that didn't make it feel any less special or real.

It didn't take long for your friends to notice, though.

You and Harry didn't have much to hide in front of Sylvia and the rest of the people who made up your little group, but neither you nor Harry really went out of your way to tell anyone about the slight change since he had come back from Japan.

One night, Sylvia decided to switch up the usual gatherings from game night to a night at a karaoke bar. You didn't mind. In fact, you loved watching everyone drink and take up a mic in the private room that had been rented out. Harry stayed by your side most of the night, an arm wrapped around your waist, his thumb subtly sneaking beneath the hem of your patchwork top to graze your skin and leave goosebumps in its wake, and a neat tequila in his other hand, your leather jacket draped over his arm after he insisted on carrying it for you. You opted for a margarita, sipping on it idly while you went between talking to Harry and watching the chaos unfold in front of you.

"What do you say, are we up next?"

"We?" you asked incredulously. "You go. I've actually been wanting to see you perform."

Harry chuckled, his nose brushing against your temple. "Come on, love. For me?"

You both knew you had a soft spot when Harry pleaded with you. Just one more hour at his place, just one more kiss, getting his favorite takeout, all of it just required a slight widening of his eyes and him saying, "Pleeeease," or, "For me?" as he nuzzled your cheek with his nose, and he had you. It was mostly harmless, but just like all the other times, it was working now.

"I don't know..." you said anyway, a small grin creeping its way onto your face. Harry only doubled down, which was exactly your goal.

"Please? I'll make it worth your while."

So that was how you ended up in front of the rest of your group of friends, a mic in your hand as you waited for Harry to pick the song. When the opening chords sounded through the speakers, you beamed, looking over at him with raised brows. Harry just sauntered over to you with a small grin, dancing over to you in that silly way of his that you learned was a unique trait he possessed.

"Islands in the Stream" was one of the songs the two of you had bonded over the last few months. You'd played it for him on the drive to Buddy Holly's favorite dog park, and the two of you sang it most car rides ever since.

Harry started the song, and you joined in, keeping your eyes on him for most of it. He definitely had more stage presence than you did, which you were fine with, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy yourself. Harry's eyes were on you the whole time too, his hip bumping against yours and spinning you around occasionally.

By the time it was over, there were cheers all around, and not just because Harry kissed you at the end. You'd made it all of two steps off the makeshift stage in the private room before you were tugged into a corner away from everyone else.

"What the hell was that?"

Sylvia was looking at you with wide, surprised eyes, though a grin stretched her cheeks. You couldn't hide your blush, opting to take the drink that Harry handed you once he found you again. "What?"

"You—You two are unbelievable," she laughed. "So this is real now? You two aren't acting like children anymore and pretending you aren't in love with each other?"

Trust Sylvia to make things between you and Harry awkward. Both of you laughed, though yours was more nervous because she'd revealed a truth you weren't quite ready to accept. Harry merely draped a hand over your shoulders and kissed the top of your head. "Looks like it, doesn't it?"

*.*

"You look nervous," you said, taking Harry's hand that rested on the gear shift.

"Me? Never," Harry insisted, though he gripped your hand a little too tightly for you to believe it.

"It's just one brother," you said, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders.

You wouldn't lie to him and say meeting all three of your brothers at once would've been a walk in the park. But this was just Andrew, who was only in town for a night. You were pretty sure Hayden and Evan sent Andrew to investigate your relationship with Harry. For that exact reason, you hadn't divulged much to any of your brothers. After the whole, "Are you sure you're not menstruating" incident, you'd been giving Hayden the cold shoulder, so you knew for a fact that he'd enlisted Andrew's help to, at the very least, get back in your good graces, and hopefully get a little intel on your budding relationship.

"Andrew's harmless, I promise," you said. "He's about as threatening as a puppy."

Harry chuckled as he pulled into the trendy bar you had agreed to meet your brother at. "See, I want to believe you, but I've seen your brother play hockey, so...I don't."

Leaning across the center console, you kissed his cheek, quickly wiping away the lip gloss you'd left behind. Even in the dim lighting of the car, you saw Harry blush, which made you nudge him with your nose playfully. "I'll keep him in line, I promise."

You led Harry inside the bar, entering through a side door to remain relatively unnoticed, neck craning for your brother. Andrew wasn't hard to spot, his long arms waving back and forth from a tall table tucked in the corner of the bar. Squeezing Harry's hand once, you walked over to where your brother stood by waiting with open arms.

"How's my little sister?" Andrew asked as he squeezed the living daylights out of you.

You rolled your eyes, not even bothering to remind him you were older. Instead, you stepped back and introduced him to Harry. For all his nerves, Harry didn't show it as he shook Andrew's hand and asked how he was doing. Even when you knew your brother squeezed his hand too hard, Harry just smiled and sat down on the barstool.

Things went surprisingly well. Despite your earlier reassurances, you'd been a little nervous about the questions Andrew might ask, ones not necessarily thought up by him, but by the brothers who were absent tonight.

"So, Harry, where do you see this relationship with my sister going? I noticed she didn't introduce you as her boyfriend."

Perhaps you'd spoken too soon.

"Andrew, seriously?" you said, kicking him under the table. "Tell Evan to butt out."

"Evan's not—"

"Oh please," you said. That question had your oldest brother written all over it. "Andrew, you leave our brothers out of this or I'll tell Harry what they used to call you in high school."

Blushing, Andrew backed down immediately, a flush crawling up his neck. You didn't like stooping to your brothers' level, usually the silent treatment got your brothers to grovel after pissing you off, but they really couldn't be surprised when you did from time to time. You learned from the best after all.

Clearing his throat, Harry broke up the stare down you and Andrew had been locked in. "Um, to answer your question, I think we both—not to speak for you, Y/n—but I think we both see this evolving into something more, we just haven't had that conversation yet."

His words filled you with warmth. You'd been thinking the same—you wanted more from Harry when he came back, and things had progressed from there. You didn't think boyfriend and girlfriend titles were far off, but now that you knew where you and Harry both stood, you were okay with taking things slow.

Not that Andrew, or your other brothers, for that matter, needed to know that.

The rest of the night went much better. Andrew eased up and was finally able to ask questions that had nothing to do with the intimate details of your relationship with Harry, and when Harry began asking Andrew about playoffs, it was all your brother could do to not talk about hockey.

Your brother left you and Harry in the parking lot with a final farewell of, "You're alright, Harry Styles, and you," he said facing you with a pointed stare. "Stop ignoring Hayden, please. You know how he gets when you don't give him attention."

Huffing, you said, "I'll think about it."

Andrew grinned. Your brothers were a lot of things, but from the moment you became a part of the family, you were a little princess to all of them. Evan, Hayden, and Andrew had their moments, but they never liked to make you too mad. Most of the time. Still, you knew Andrew, and you knew he liked to be the unspoken, "favorite brother."

Harry took you home, his hand in yours the whole way back. Neither of you said anything, unwinding from the interesting night. It honestly could've gone a lot worse, in your opinion. Andrew really was the least of your worries.

Like a gentleman, Harry walked you to the door when you got home. You held back from unlocking your apartment and stepping inside despite the cold, taking his hand in yours. "I'm sorry if things were a little tense tonight."

Harry shook his head. "You really have them wrapped around your finger, you know that?"

"They have good intentions. They just...they were all I had for a long time. They're protective. Especially Evan."

Growing up, your brothers were pretty much your whole family. You were all bonded by the same shitty father, growing up raising and protecting each other. You knew the questions and the protective attitudes came from a good place, especially after the way things broke down with Gavin and his family. Evan saw how much it affected you, and probably just didn't want to see you get hurt again.

"Well, I'm glad. Even if they do slightly terrify me."

"They're big pushovers," you said with a laugh. "And like you said, they're wrapped around my finger. You'll be fine, I promise."

Harry smiled, tipping your chin up. "Yeah? You promise?"

"Mhmm," was all you could manage as he began to kiss your neck, a chill that had nothing to do with the brisk weather licking down your spine. The excitement that surged through you almost had you leaping into his arms. You settled for wrapping your arms around his neck. "I know we've been taking things slow, but I—I wouldn't mind it."

"You wouldn't mind what?" Harry teased, pulling away slightly when you tried to kiss him. "Might need to do a little better than that if you want me to be your boyfriend."

Everything was so easy with Harry. The playful teasing, the serious conversations, getting drinks with your overprotective brother, all of it. You hadn't wanted someone this much since—well, since forever. Harry just made you so happy, and you wanted to chase that feeling, not hide from it. You spent way too much time hiding from life, from love.

Reaching up on your toes, you kissed him, your fingers curling around the soft strands of hair at the nape of his neck. Harry backed you against the door to your apartment, the hum coming from his chest once your tongues brushed together reverberating through you. His cheeks were cold as you held them in your hands, and you wanted nothing more than to haul him inside and never let him leave. But he had to be up early tomorrow and had to go back to his cat. You would make sure he'd regret leaving, though.

Eventually, you let go of him, your hands smoothing down the knit sweater he wore. You'd spent ages on the phone with him as he freaked out over what to wear. One coat was too flashy, but that t-shirt said he wasn't putting in any effort and didn't care about meeting a member of your family. On and on until you eventually made him turn the camera around to face his closet and pick something out for him. Black jeans and a black sweater with colorful depictions of the solar system eventually convinced him to finally leave the house. It was a little silly, but you appreciated how much effort he wanted to put into meeting Andrew, who absolutely would have reported back to Hayden and Evan what Harry wore, but Harry didn't need to know that.

"I don't want to be scared of feeling good anymore," you whispered. "I don't want to feel guilty for chasing something that feels right. Please tell me you feel the same."

"I do," Harry murmured. His forehead rested against yours as his hands found the perfect place on your waist, finding the sliver of skin revealed between your halter top and your jeans, and the look in his eyes was something so comforting, a safe assurance you hadn't felt in a long time.

Harry made you feel safe. He made you smile and knew things about you no one else did, not even your brothers, and he didn't seem put off by it. He understood your creative process, gave you space when you needed it, and was there for you when needed someone but didn't know how to ask.

You were still perhaps too scared to even think about the word love, but looking up at Harry then, you thought there might be a day where you felt brave enough to tell him how you really felt.

*.*

The club was packed tonight, bodies surrounding you on all sides. As someone bumped into you from behind, you gripped Mitch's arm on instinct, determined not to fall over or get swept up in the sea of people waiting for the band to start their set.

"Remind me why we're here again?" you asked, shouting over the crowd and thumping bass.

For a moment, you worried Mitch hadn't heard you, but then he shouted back, leaning in close so you could hear him. "Because they asked us to be here. We heard their demos, and you said they had potential. And—"

"Alright, alright. I get it. I just didn't think there'd be this many people."

"Kind of a good thing though, isn't it?" a voice said from behind you.

Turning around, you couldn't help the wide grin that took over your face. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Mitch give you a pointed look, but you ignored it, throwing your arms around Harry. "You found us!"

"Course. I could spot my two best friends from a mile away."

Being regarded as Harry's friend made your stomach tighten despite knowing he didn't mean it that way, especially since you were around so many people. And yet, it had you overthinking.

Don't be stupid, you thought, blinking those thoughts away. Squeezing Harry's hand once, you let go. "Did you get into the venue okay?"

You, Harry, and Mitch talked to—talked at, more like—each other before the show, huddled together and trying not to draw attention to yourselves. Because of the packed venue, you and Harry were able to stand relatively close to one another, your hands brushing occasionally. With Harry so close to you like this and unable to kiss his cheek at the very least, and you could tell he was having the same struggle. He was pressed up against your back, at one point, then his arm was draped over your shoulders, and when the lights finally dimmed as the set began, he was as close as he could be, his arm wrapped around your waist as you watched the band perform.

The band played music that was loud, full of heavy base lines and guitar riffs and drum solos that had the crowd jumping and jostling around. Harry was a steady force at your back until you eventually joined in with the audience, dancing along to the music beside Mitch.

In the few weeks you and Mitch worked on writing Cam's album together, you'd ended up spending more time outside of the studio as well. It was almost always music related, the two of you going out to see live performances in some form or another—local bands, shows at the Troubador and the Whiskey, performers just starting out in dive bars. It was something you typically did on your own, a good way to discover new artists and experience different sounds, and Mitch was more than happy to join you, showing you a couple of his favorite haunts, ones that he played in from time to time.

It was nice to get out of your apartment, to hang out with someone who appreciated discovering new music as much as you did. Mitch had helped you expand your horizons and had even taught you a thing or two about playing drums after you were particularly enthralled by a grunge band. It had become part of your routine as much as writing in the studio had—going out once or twice a week to find new talent and sometimes meeting up with the artist or band afterward to see if they were interested in collaborating. That wasn't always the goal, but there were moments when you couldn't help yourself.

"You were right. They do have potential," Mitch said. Both of you were buzzing after the performance, talking animatedly about the band and their set.

"I know! And I really liked their sound. There was something so nostalgic about it, but not in a gimmicky way, you know?"

Harry walked a couple paces behind you and Mitch as you ambled down the sidewalk toward where you'd parked. He'd been quiet coming out of the show, but you didn't think anything of it.

You kept talking to Mitch, promising to stop by the studio for another drum lesson when you had the chance, or when he had the chance, more like. Now that Harry's album was less an idea and more a fully realized project with a release date, Harry and Co. had been pretty busy lately. And once the album finally came out...well, you'd cross that bridge eventually.

When Mitch was gone, headed home in his car, you walked a little further to your side-by-side with Harry. You leaned in close, not really caring if anyone saw. Even through the layers of his heavy coat, you could feel the warmth that he emanated naturally. You loved being tucked into his side or curled around him, or just being as close to him as possible, an alarming amount. The word "love" fluttered through your mind every now and again, but you swatted it away every time. It was much too soon, and while you'd made many strides, there were still parts of you that remained afraid.

Afraid of what would happen if you got too attached and things ended, afraid of the distance rapidly approaching once Harry's album came out, afraid of your inner saboteur. It was all there, lingering, waiting to strike at any moment.

"Good show, right?" you said to Harry, eager to shake off the dark turn your thoughts had taken. "Mitch and I have been wanting to see them for ages."

"Yeah," he said, his eyes remaining on the street ahead. Then, "I...I didn't realize you spent so much time with him while I was gone."

"I honestly didn't expect to, but he was still working in the studio. We made quite the team."

Because you were so close, you felt Harry's whole body stiffen. A split second too late, you realized your poor choice of words.

"I—I didn't mean—"

"It's okay, Y/n," Harry said, and he didn't sound mad at all. Maybe just a little hurt, but you had a feeling he was trying his best not to make you feel bad. "I can't be upset that you kept working when I left. That's silly of me."

"It's not," you assured. "I—You're kind of the reason I pushed myself to work with him, and others," you admitted.

"Really?"

Nodding, you said, "I've always worked on my own. Always. But then we started writing together and things just clicked, and when you left, I—I didn't want to deny myself the opportunity to make great music. I mean, you and your team were doing incredible stuff even before I came along. I guess I just wanted to be a part of something great in that way too. Mitch helped introduce me to a new artist and we collaborated on a project of our own. I didn't...I didn't want to go back to being alone again.

"But it isn't the same," you said, stopping Harry in his tracks. Looking up at him, you smiled, for no other reason than he was there and he was yours. "We...We work differently together. You have to know that."

Harry's responding grin was small. "It is quite magical, isn't it?"

Reaching up on your toes, you kissed him, your hand cupping his cheek gently. The kiss was slow, gentle, a reassurance for the both of you. When you leaned back, yours and Harry's cheeks were flushed as you grinned brightly at each other.

As you slid into the passenger seat of Harry's car, you said, "I can't believe you'd be jealous of Mitch."

Harry ducked his head bashfully. "Oh hush. I was not."

"He's your best friend, H," you giggled. "Not to mention very, very taken."

"I believe I mentioned it was silly, didn't I?"

Taking his hand, you kissed the top of it. "You did."

Harry peeled out of his parking space, promising to make it up to you as he handed his phone over to choose the playlist for the ride home.

When you unlocked his phone, the home screen wasn't what popped up. Instead, the messages app was open, a string of messages that hadn't been replied to yet, going back a few weeks.

Can we talk?

I miss you. I miss us.

The silent treatment is childish, H.

Please call me.

Your hands suddenly felt cold and clammy, and Harry's phone nearly slipped out of them and onto the floor.

"Everything okay?"

Harry's voice dragged you out of whatever headspace you'd been launched into. Looking up, you mustered a smile, hoping the car's darkness would mask how flimsy it truly was.

"Yeah. Fine," you said, your voice not sounding like your own.

Quickly exiting out of the app, you pulled up his music, choosing a playlist at random before setting his phone down in the cup holder.

You felt like you were on one of those theme park rides, the ones that reach the heights of tall buildings just to fall straight down. You felt weightless, but not in a good way. It was as if you were falling and there was nowhere safe to land. That feeling in your stomach only grew until you were sure you were going to be sick.

Harry continued on none the wiser, chatting about this and that. You weren't exactly sure what he said, his voice was suddenly white noise. But you must've given him coherent responses because he didn't question your behavior. The only time he did was when you didn't invite him up to your apartment.

"I'm just really tired," you managed to say. "One too many margaritas, I guess."

Not putting up too much of a fight, Harry grinned and gave you a kiss. Despite the dread you felt, it still filled you with butterflies. You cared for him so much you didn't know what to do with yourself sometimes. And now there was...this.

"I'll call you tomorrow," he said, a sweet smile on his face.

He acted as if nothing was wrong, and it was convincing too. Almost to the point that you wanted to believe it too. Those messages were days old, save the most recent one, and Harry hadn't replied to any of them. That had to mean something.

Right?

*.*

After mentioning what you found to Sylvia, she demanded that what you needed was retail therapy. Shopping wasn't your favorite pastime, but you desperately needed a friend.

You met with her at an outdoor shopping mall, bundled up in your softest sweatshirt and puffy coat for comfort more than because of the weather. You hadn't wanted to go out at all today, or the last couple days since you saw Harry's messages. There had been an attempt to have Sylvia just come over so you could day drink together, but she wasn't having it.

So now you were wading through store after store, internally freaking out about where your relationship was headed. It was just getting off the ground, and now it was crumbling before your eyes. Harry was none the wiser, of course, but that was only because he was busy this week and you pretended to be busy because you weren't sure if you could keep it together in front of him. You needed a third-party perspective, a voice of reason before you sat down and talked to him about all this.

"You wanna tell me what happened?" Sylvia asked gently.

One thing you liked about Sylvia was that she was bold and brash and didn't try to mince her words, but you appreciated her tone now. Friend of Harry's first or not, she was here for you, and seeing as there weren't many people you could turn to, you needed her now more than ever. You could talk to your brothers, but you didn't want them to come out and hurt him. You would go to them if there was something serious going on.

"I...I thought we were finally on the same page," you said, and then it all came spilling out of you. You replayed that night in Harry's car as you combed through a rack of dresses. Sylvia was quiet through all of it, not saying anything until you were finished. "I don't know what to do. Is he—I never asked because it wasn't really my business, but he was clearly torn up over their break up. Do you think it's possible that he's not over her?"

Because that was what kept you up at night. Before he left, Harry hadn't been ready for a relationship. You knew there wasn't an exact timeline for healing a broken heart, but the seed of doubt had been planted, and now all you could think about was him leaving you for his ex. The thought terrified you. It made you want to run before you learned the truth, spare yourself the trouble of looking like an idiot.

But you called Sylvia instead, knowing running was not the best option, even if it was the most familiar.

"Oh, babe," she sighed. "I'm not going to lie, Harry was in love with her. They were...there's no other way to put it. They loved each other."

The whimper that escaped your lips was an accident, and when Sylvia heard it, she pulled you in for a hug. "He was in love with her," she repeated as she ran a soothing hand up and down your back. "I truly believe he's moved on Y/n. Harry wouldn't do that to you."

"But what about her?" you said. "She wants him back, and he—he didn't tell me that she's been reaching out, and I just can't help but feel like their history will win out."

"I don't think you realize how happy you make him," Sylvia said. "Yes, Harry loved her, but they broke up for a reason. I don't see him giving things a second go, especially now that he's with you. He's happy, Y/n. He's happy because you make him happy. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for all this. You just have to sit down and hear him out."

"You really think so?"

"He lights up at the mere mention of your name. You—You're like the sun to him," Sylvia promised. "So don't run from this, okay? Talk to him. Hear him out. Make him sweat a little for keeping this from you, but you owe it to yourself to hear his side of things."

You nodded, feeling a little reassured by what she'd said. You wouldn't feel a hundred percent until you talked things out with Harry, but this is a good start. At the very least, it kept you from wanting to run and hide from all this.

Laughing a little, you wiped a stray tear from your eye. "You know, when you said you were Harry's life coach, I didn't imagine you'd end up being mine too."

"It's what I'm good for," she said. "Now, let's see about doing a little shopping, hm? Ooh! And maybe we get our nails done."

Looping her arm through yours, she dragged you into the next aisle, feeling lighter with every step you took.

*.*

"Where is he? I'll kill him!"

This was the third time you'd heard that in the last couple of hours.

"Stand down, Hayden," you said from beneath your mountain of blankets. "He's not here."

Your brother's eyes widened as he looked in your direction, as if he didn't expect the pile of blankets to speak. He stalked over to where Andrew and Evan were standing in front of you, taking on a perplexed disposition. None of your brothers had ever really seen you this way. All the pranks, all the times they royally pissed you off when you were younger, you never really let it get to you. You could tell that although they wanted to be here for you, they weren't entirely sure how.

"Are you okay?"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Just let me know where he is, Y/n."

They were doing their best to help, and you knew you owed them answers. You did call them after all. Well, that wasn't entirely true. You called Evan, who proceeded to call Andrew because your younger brother was closest in proximity to you. And Andrew called Hayden because of course he did. It was sweet that they all dropped everything to come see you, but now you felt put on the spot.

And you knew Hayden would make good on his word, and your other two brothers would have no trouble helping him, and that wasn't exactly what you wanted.

"I ended things with Harry," you said quietly.

"You said as much in your text, Y/n," Evan said. "But what happened? It seemed like you guys were really happy."

The thought of last night's events replayed in your mind, bringing a fresh wave of tears to the surface. Taking a shuddering breath, you said, "I thought we were too."

It all started last night at this party Harry invited you too. Something about fundraising and live music and dancing, and he said it was the perfect opportunity to get dressed up and go out and not worry about being photographed. You agreed, wanting to put the text messages from his ex that had yet to be discussed far from your mind. You knew you should've said something, but you wanted to give Harry the opportunity to come clean himself. The fact that he hadn't kept you up at night, but you promised yourself—and Sylvia—that you would bring it up after the party.

"Just one more night of normalcy before we have this conversation," you assured her. It was all you wanted. Just one night where this cloud wasn't hanging over your head.

So you went. Harry picked you up in a sports car that usually sat in his garage, practically mauling you when he saw you in your dress. It was simple, but you felt great in it—a short black number with white ruffles at the top and bottom. With your hair blown out and curled to perfection, little pearl droplets hanging from your ears, you felt like a dream, and every time Harry's gaze fell on you to track your figure up and down, your entire body was filled with butterflies.

And the night carried on perfectly. You and Harry sipped on champagne and kept to yourselves most of the night. You didn't really know anyone, and he was perfectly happy to keep you all to himself, kissing your cheeks and neck whenever he could, his hand never leaving your waist for a moment. It was exactly what you needed to take your mind off everything that had been swirling around in your head the last few days. When Harry was dancing and spinning you around in and out of his arms in a corner of the event space, it felt like you were the only two people to exist. There was no way he had any lingering feelings for his ex when he was smiling so brightly and laughing as you spun him out and back into your arms.

And then...it all just fell apart.

"Harry?"

At the sound of the woman's voice, Harry dropped your hand, coming to an abrupt halt beside you. You looked up, confused by the tension that suddenly lined his shoulders, but when you looked at the women who'd come up to your little corner, you just knew.

"H—Hi." Harry sounded breathless, his eyes never leaving hers once. All you could do was watch it all unfold in slow motion, all you could feel was the loss of his touch now that his hand was no longer in yours.

You cleared your throat when Harry didn't say anything. It was as if you had to pull him from whatever trance he'd fallen into at the mere sight of her. Dread filled your belly as he seemed to remember where he was, as he remembered you were there, blinking as he embraced his ex and introduced her to you.

"This is my friend Y/n."

His words felt like a sucker punch, all the air stolen from your lungs. You knew you and Harry hadn't put a label on your relationship, but to hear him refer to you as his friend right in front of his ex was devastating.

Your heart was glass, I dropped it.

Was this what it felt like? You never imagined you would be in this position, you never thought you would love someone enough to feel like you were coming undone at the seams at this kind of rejection. But perhaps that was just the universe coming to collect after thoroughly breaking someone else's heart yourself.

"I—I need some air," you heard yourself saying, not even looking to see if Harry noticed you leave or if he was too caught up in seeing his ex.

You didn't just get air, you Ubered home, unable to handle everything rushing through you. That was when you texted Evan, who merely responded with, I'm on my way, and twenty-four hours later, he was there, along with Hayden and Andrew.

You explained to your brothers what happened briefly, doing your best to not go into detail so you wouldn't start crying uncontrollably, though you'd be surprised if you had any tears left. You mostly just felt defeated, almost as if deep down you knew the happiness wasn't meant to last.

"He's an idiot, Y/n," Andrew said, resting a hand on Buddy's head to scratch him behind the ears. Your dog had been resting by your side since you came back last night, somehow sensing your despair. "Don't let him steal your happiness."

You nodded, but only because you had nothing else to say. You knew your brother meant well, but you just didn't believe him. This was par for the course in your eyes. Of course, when you fell for someone, they chose someone else. Maybe you were destined to be on your own, maybe love was overrated.

"Do you need anything?" Evan asked you, Hayden standing next to you. You could tell that they didn't really know what to do in this situation but that they wanted to be there for you. It was sweet, but there really wasn't anything to do.

"I'm okay," you said, convincing no one. "I think I might just take a nap."

"We can take Buddy for a walk. Maybe grab some food while we're out," Evan said. "Andrew, why don't you stay here and make sure she doesn't text him."

You rolled your eyes. "I literally just said I was going to sleep—"

"On it," Andrew said, hopping up to take your phone from where it was resting on your kitchen counter and slipping it into his pocket.

It was utterly ridiculous, but you were sure that was what your brothers were going for. The four of you weren't the touchy-feely type, you never had been. But one thing your brothers could count on was their ability to make you smile, make you laugh. And that was maybe exactly what you needed.

Making good on your word, you retired to your room, but you didn't sleep a wink despite how exhausted you were. Instead, you stayed up listening to records, shared favorites of yours and Harry's, the ones you bonded over together. It was hard to imagine that after such deep connections, the number of stories shared and late nights talking over bottles of red wine. Harry meant so much to you, and it killed you to think you didn't mean as much to him.

At some point, you must've dozed off—your eyes fluttering shut to the sound of Joni Mitchell—because suddenly you were jolting awake with a start. Muffled shouts could be heard through your closed door, which could only mean one thing.

Taking a couple minutes to wake up a little more and bolster yourself for unwanted confrontation, you finally stepped out of your room. The voices grew louder as you walked down the hall—Andrew kept telling Harry to leave while Harry claimed he just wanted to talk to you. You weren't sure if you were ready for this conversation yet, but it was here whether you liked it or not, and it would probably be for the best before Evan and Hayden came back or the argument happening at your front door drew unwanted attention.

"You can let him in."

Your voice was quiet, but not unsteady, which came as a surprise to you. It surprised your brother and the person who would've been your boyfriend too, their argument ceasing immediately as they looked over at you.

"Y/n," Harry breathed.

For better or for worse, he looked about as awful as you felt. There were bags under his eyes, and he was in the clothes he wore to the party last night. His tan trousers were rumpled, belt missing; his satin shirt was heavily wrinkled, the buttons mismatched in the wrong holes. His hair was a mess too, as if he'd been tossing and turning all night.

You didn't like seeing him like this, hated it, in fact. This wasn't supposed to be yours and Harry's story. You thought both of you had experienced the heartbreak and had found each other on the other side of it. Now you felt like you were right back where you started, and you hated it.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Andrew said, glancing warily between you and Harry. "Hayden and Evan will be back soon—"

"It's fine, Andrew. I promise," you told him, stepping closer to the front door cautiously, worrying that getting too close would ensnare you in Harry's magnetic pull. One whiff of his cologne might send you right into his arms, where your heart still thought it was safe. "Keep them occupied for me?"

It was clear that Andrew didn't agree with you on this decision. He stood there by the door for a long while, trying to assess your mental state. But he finally relented, taking a few steps toward you to hug you tightly. "Don't be afraid to give him hell," he murmured in your ear. Then, after passing back your phone, he left, but not before glaring murderously in Harry's direction.

When you and Harry were finally alone, your apartment was silent for the first time in hours. Almost too silent. Harry just stared at you with this broken look in his eyes, and you...you couldn't dredge up the energy to start this conversation. It was clear Harry didn't either. You watched as he opened and closed his mouth a few times, but you had no desire to help him out.

"Can we sit?" he finally asked, his voice sounding tired and raw.

Unable to handle the look in his those devastated green eyes, you looked down at where your sweatshirt engulfed your hands. "I'd prefer it if we didn't."

Sitting meant forced proximity, and you were already pushing yourself to have this conversation. This distance between you and Harry would be where you drew the line.

"Oh," Harry said, sounding surprised. "Okay. I—I don't know what else to say other than I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, Y/n."

"For what exactly?" you asked, not expecting the bitterness in your tone.

"For making it seem like we were just friends in front of her, for freezing last night. I—She'd been texting me the last few days and I've ignored her, but I didn't expect to see her."

"I know about the texts," you found yourself saying.

It was clear Harry hadn't expected that. A look of confusion passed over his face as he asked, "Wh—Why didn't you say anything?"

"Why didn't you?" you said, unable to hide the hurt, the betrayal.

"It was nothing, and I didn't want to bring any attention to it. I thought if I just ignored her enough, she would stop, and she did eventually stop, but then I saw her last night, and I didn't want to make her feel worse by showing her I'd moved on—"

"But you haven't," you said. "You're...protecting her. Sparing her feelings while fucking me over. I—I could've gotten over the texts. I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt because you hadn't responded to her. But watching you call me your friend was such a slap in the face."

"I'm sorry, I fucked up. I know I did," Harry said, tears pooling in his eyes.

You could tell he meant it. You knew he realized what he'd done was shitty, but could you move on from it?

"I believe that you're sorry," you said. At that, something like hope flickered in his face, but you snuffed it out just as quickly as it came. "But I also think you still have unresolved feelings for her. And I—I don't want to be second to you. Not in that way."

"So that's it?"

You knew Harry like the back of your hand. You knew what the little quiver of his lip meant, understood the tight clench of his fists around the hem of his shirt. You could read every line of emotion on his face, and you wondered if he could pick you apart the same way.

"You know, all this time we've bonded over our respective heartbreak as if our pain was the same," you said, more to yourself than to him. "But what I'm realizing now, what I started to realize last night, was that mine stemmed from feelings of inadequacy, of never being enough for someone. I broke up with someone because I wasn't in love with them, and that devastated me. But you...no matter how the relationship fell apart or who ended it, you loved her, and she loved you. That feeling doesn't just wash away with the evening tide."

"Y/n—"

"And that's...that's okay, you know?" you continued. "You loved her. Love her. That's not a bad thing. But—But I'm in love with you too, and I can't—I'm not going to compete with someone who already has your heart. I won't."

Tears kissed your cheeks as you blinked. Your hands shook, but your voice was clear. Harry could deny it all he wanted, but you saw the truth laid bare before you. You weren't the only person occupying space in his heart, and after everything you'd been through, you didn't want to settle for anything less than what you deserved.

"That's not true, Y/n," Harry implored. He looked a little frantic now that he knew your mind was practically made up. "I fucked up, I know that. I saw her, and I froze. It was just—"

An instinct, a gut reaction, that was what he didn't want to say. "I don't want someone's initial reaction to be to let go of my hand," you said softly, wiping away a tear with a sleeve-covered hand. "I want—"

Your mom's ring in your pocket, my picture in your wallet. That song you'd written all those months ago, the one that held your deepest regrets and insecurities, all the little things you'd run from. You didn't want to run from it anymore. You thought you found someone to run toward, but you were wrong.

"I don't want what we have to be over, Y/n," Harry pleaded.

I don't believe you, you thought, and you couldn't be with him if you didn't trust his sincerity. "I think you need more time," you said instead of voicing what you felt.

"There's no convincing how much I feel for you, is there?" he said, sounding resigned to the fate that had come to pass.

You shook your head, your heart begging you to hold onto him and not let go, to drag him to bed and sleep until you both forgot. But you didn't do any of those things. "No. Not right now."

Harry finally bridged the gap between you and him. He kept a sliver of distance, the only contact he made being gentle fingers tilting your chin so you'd meet his eye. There was so much emotion swirling there, and you longed to kiss away all the anguish and pain until only love was left, but that wasn't in the cards. Not today, or in the days that would follow.

"I promised you that I wouldn't leave again," Harry said, his gaze unrelenting. Your brow furrowed, not recalling when he made that promise, but he continued before you could ask. "Not in the ways that count anyway, but I intend to keep that promise, Y/n. If you want space, I'll give it to you, but don't think for one second that I won't spend every single moment we're apart wishing we were together. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if that's what it takes."

It was a surprise your body didn't turn to jello on the spot, that Harry couldn't hear the steady thump of your heart as it beat wildly in your chest. He said all the right things, every perfect word, but right now, that was all they were. And you didn't have it in you to believe him.

"I'm sorry that I did this to us, to you," he said. "I'll never not be sorry. "

Harry stood there, his fingers gingerly holding your chin, for a few moments longer. It was as if he was imploring you to read the message in his eyes, to understand everything he wasn't saying, but you just didn't have the energy.

When he finally left, one last promise that wasn't giving up on you and him yet on his lips before the door clicked shut, all the warmth in your body went with him. You briefly thought of all the times you clung to him to warm up, slipping his hands beneath his shirts and sweaters and nuzzling your face in his neck.

That last touch of Harry's fingers to your chin wasn't enough, not nearly enough, and now he was gone. The person you fell in love with, who knew you better than anyone else in the world, walked out the door, head held high as if this wouldn't be the last time you'd be standing so close.

You weren't convinced. Not when all your mind wanted to replay was his hand dropping yours, his dismissal of your relationship, and his disregard for your feelings to protect those of his ex.

*.*

You didn't see Harry in the weeks that followed, but you weren't sure if that had more to do with him working on his album. Sylvia kept you semi-updated, even though you insisted you were fine with not knowing what he was up to. It was a lie, of course, and she saw right through it, letting you know when Harry was gone for music video shoots, recording and producing music, album cover shoots, and meetings with his label.

Part of you was grateful he wasn't around because it made keeping your distance easier. After everything that happened, you convinced yourself Harry didn't know what he wanted, even if he claimed he was. The proof had been right in front of you, though, clear as day. There were unresolved feelings lingering in the corners of Harry's heart and mind, and he needed to deal with them or get back together with his ex, but you wanted no part of it.

That wasn't to say Harry wasn't on your mind. He was there constantly, taking up space and making you lose focus while writing or walking your dog. You'd never been in love before, and now that everything had imploded, you didn't know how to make it stop.

“Y/n?”

Blinking, you looked up to where Mitch stared at you, an acoustic guitar in his lap. You weren't sure why you agreed to meet with him for a writing session. You hadn't written much since everything fell apart, save the occasional depressing poem, but when Mitch reached out, you figured it was as good a time as any to get back to work and start writing again.

In theory, it was a good idea, but your heart just wasn't in it. It was thousands of miles away shooting a music video.

"Sorry, I thought this would be a good idea, but my head is just all over the place," you said, closing your notebook that only had a few disconnected lines written down.

"I'm sorry about everything," Mitch said. "I know it probably doesn't mean much coming from me, but he really does care about you. Like a lot."

"I know," you said dejectedly. "But he...he still loves her, I think. Or cares for her more than he lets on. Maybe even more than he realizes."

That night, you realized you had a losing hand. You didn't want to run like you'd done with Gavin, but you didn't want to fight either. You just felt...defeated, as if the fickle promise of love had bested you again.

"I can promise you he doesn't, but I know that's between you and him," Mitch said. Nodding to the journal in your lap, he asked, "Can I see?"

Shrugging, you handed it over. At this point, Mitch had learned a lot about you by being your writing partner, so you didn't mind him flipping through it. And honestly, there wasn't much to show anyway. A couple of measly lines did not a song make.

Mitch was quiet as he looked over the few things you'd written down, his expression gloriously passive as always. Since you started writing together, you'd struggled to read his expressions, not knowing what he thought until he voiced his opinion.

"Well, shit, kid," Mitch murmured on an exhale.

"What?"

Mitch looked up, one brow raised. Then, he began to read lines from your journal. "You've got my devotion, but man I can hate you sometimes...My hand's a risk I fold...Test of my patience, there's things that we'll never—"

"Hey wait a minute, that's not from today," you said, reaching for your journal. Mitch managed to land on one of your poems from a few days ago. That definitely wasn't meant to be part of today's writing session. "Give that back."

"This is good, Y/n. There's a song in here," Mitch insisted.

"Oh please. That's a terribly depressing poem fueled by a bottle of wine."

He pinned you with a stare, but you ignored it, and he eventually let it go. You didn't stay in the studio much longer after that, realizing that not much was going to come out of this session. And Mitch had to leave too, having to catch a redeye to London. "We're finishing up the album there," he explained.

It dawned on you then that you would be alone again. After becoming so used to having a partner of some kind while writing, too. It shouldn't have affected you so much, but it did. Somehow you'd grown to appreciate company while you were writing, and now your two favorite writing partners were leaving. They were the only two you'd ever had, but as history had shown, you weren't a huge fan of change.

You'd grown comfortable, but now the ground was shaking and crumbling beneath you. Though perhaps that should've been the familiar feeling.

"Can I keep the song?" Mitch asked on your way out of the studio. "I have an idea."

This time, you could read what was on your friend's face. And you could sense it, somehow. He wanted to show it to Harry. For the album, or because Mitch felt Harry needed to read the words. At this point, you were emotionally drained, and you weren't going to be there when Harry read your little poem, anyway. What did it matter?

"That's fine," you said, tearing the page out of your journal. "Don't be a stranger, okay? We can still collaborate over the phone or voice notes or whatever."

You thought that was where you and Mitch would leave things, but then he asked, "Do you think you'll ever write with him again?"

Harry was so much more than the person you were in love with. He was your friend, your first ever writing partner, someone you'd confided in. But he was also the person who made you feel betrayal and heartache. You didn't know how to reconcile those two people.

"I don't know," you said honestly. "I hope so."

*.*

There wasn't a single moment where Harry didn't think of Y/n while they were apart. He'd done what she'd asked of him, gave them the space to heal and settle. Harry understood where she was coming from, and he knew that he'd hurt her more than he ever imagined he would.

Everything fell apart so completely, too quickly for him to even pick up the pieces.

He knew he should've told her about the texts the minute he received them, and he couldn't really pinpoint why he didn't. It was in no way to hurt Y/n, or to protect his ex; honestly, he should've just deleted them as they came, but he didn't, and things only went downhill from there.

Harry didn't want space, he knew what he wanted, who he wanted. But he also knew that what he'd done, how he behaved, gave Y/n every right to push him away and not trust him. All he knew was that he'd never regretted anything more than seeing the devastated look on her face when they ran into his ex.

He couldn't take back what he'd done, all he could do was try to make things right the second Y/n gave him the opportunity. Thankfully, recording and producing his second album kept him busy enough to give her the space she'd asked for. Had he liked being so far away from her, both physically and emotionally? No. Hell no, but he just put everything he was feeling into his music, let it fuel him as he and his team found the sound he was going for with this project.

It wasn't until weeks after they'd ended things that he heard from Y/n. Really, Mitch had passed a folded up piece of paper with song lyrics on it and said it was Y/n's, but Harry was so desperate to get something from her that he'd counted it. "I have an idea for it. I just need you to finish it," Mitch had said.

"Finish it?" Harry asked as he unfolded the paper.

To him it looked like a poem, but Mitch seemed to be convinced it was a song. He read over it briefly, then again, and again and again until he was standing in front of his friend for an awkward amount of time.

"She's speaking to you in this," Mitch explained. "It could be a kind of conversation."

The idea had perplexed him, and at first, Harry had said no. It wasn't until the next evening when he was alone in his flat that he considered the folded piece of paper. He thought about all the songs he'd written with Y/n, the thoughts and feelings they'd shared with each and every lyric and melody. This wasn't the same, not even close. He just wanted things to go back to normal; he wanted to relive the moments where Y/n would sit with her guitar, her journal and his in his lap as they compared notes and ideas.

But this would have to do for now.

He didn't try to get in Y/n's head, to try to understand what she might've been feeling at the time she wrote the poem, though he had a pretty good idea. Harry merely did what Mitch suggested and responded to the lines already written down, adding them in where he saw fit.

"Put a price on...emotion, I'm looking for...something to buy," he murmured, quickly scribbling the words down before he forgot them. "I don't want to fight you, and I don't want to sleep in the dirt."

Writing this song gave Harry the opportunity to finally let go. Through it he was able to admit that he had been clinging to a crisp trepidation, a fear of giving all of himself over to Y/n with abandon. For a number of reasons—that things with Y/n would end up in flames like all his other relationships (check), that he didn't even know what love looked like anymore after so many failed attempts at finding it, that he wasn't good enough to be someone Y/n deserved, , that he was going to lose her forever if he didn't pull himself together enough for her.

By the time Harry was done, he felt dejected. The finished song was sad, too sad. It was about heartache and fear, it sounded finite. And that wasn't what he wanted his story with Y/n to be.

We'll be fine, he wrote before quickly crossing it our. Fine. Fine. Finefinefinefinefine—

"We'll be a fine line," Harry finally murmured.

He spent the rest of the night figuring out arrangements and melodies, all of it coming together in his head almost faster than he could write it all down. The album was pretty much in the final stretch. At this point, he and his team were finishing up recordings and working on the promotional aspects of the release, but he knew it down to every atom of his being that this song had to be on the album. It was the culmination of everything he'd experienced and felt, every emotion he'd embraced and shied away from. All of it crashed into each other in a blaze of horns and strings.

And maybe when he finally finished working through the main melody on his guitar, something soft and melancholic, yet soothing and hopeful, he should've gone right to sleep. He honestly should've been exhausted after the emotional whirlwind he'd been wrapped up in. Yet he somehow had his phone in his hands, his thumb hovering over a contact before he eventually hit the call button.

"Harry? What—Isn't it like four in the morning over there?"

Harry couldn't stop his breath from hitching when he heard Y/n's voice. He'd missed her so much it physically hurt sometimes. Part of him thought she wouldn't answer his call, but when she did, his entire body sagged with relief.

"I miss you," he said, not caring how pathetic he sounded. "I know I messed up, and I know I hurt you, and you probably were just being nice by suggesting the whole space thing when you really want nothing to do with me ever again—"

"Harry," Y/n said, her voice gently but firm. "Slow down, love."

Harry could've cried at the softness in her tone let alone the term of endearment. All he'd wanted for the last few weeks was to just hear her voice, her his name on her lips in a way that didn't sound hurt or disappointed.

"You were right," he told her. "I—I was holding back from you, and that wasn't fair to either of us, but especially to you. Y/n, I—I'm so sorry."

"I know you are," she whispered. "I think...I think I just wanted you to want me as much as I did."

"I do," Harry promised. "I know I haven't given you much to believe me, but Y/n the way I feel about you is so different than I've ever felt about anyone, and I think part of me was scared of that too after such a tremendous breakup."

For a moment, Y/n was silent over the phone, her breaths filling up his ear and making him long for the moments they spent huddled up in bed together.

"I know...I know we've been here before, but do you think we could try things again?" he asked. He almost didn't want to know, believing that perhaps ignorance really was bliss. But Y/n had put herself out there so many times, had taken so many risks despite everything she'd experienced. He could be brave too.

"What if—What if we started over?" she said.

"Start over?"

"I think we need a clean slate. If you're really and truly over your ex—"

"I am. I swear, Y/n," Harry said, not wanting hope to spark to life in him just yet.

"Then we need to put all of this mess behind us and start fresh."

"I—I'd like that." He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. When he called Y/n, he worried he'd come off a little crazy due to lack of sleep, but now he worried he might've fallen asleep in a songwriting craze and was now dreaming.

"I, um, I know you offered a few months ago, but if you were still looking for someone to join your band...maybe I could fill that spot?"

"You want to work for me?"

"I wasn't going to put it like that, but I guess technically yes," Y/n said. "I feel like you would pay a fair wage."

Harry chuckled, a satisfied sort of exhaustion taking over him now that he felt like his life was getting back on track. "I'll give you whatever you want if it means you'll join."

He just wanted her close, and if this was what a clean slate looked like to her, then he would oblige. Having her close, playing music together, being surrounded by their friends, it would be exactly what they needed to find their way back to each other.

"You should probably go to bed," Y/n said, breaking the content silence that had settled over them.

"Yeah, probably," Harry agreed, running a tired hand over his face. "So what have you been listening to recently?"

For a moment, he thought she would insist he get some rest. He supposed he'd be okay with it, finding peace in the fact things were finally looking up for them. But then she answered, and Harry was sure he'd never be able to wipe the smile from his face as he listened to his girl.

*.*

Months later

"Are you in love with Harry?"

The question wasn't directed at you, but you felt your cheeks redden immediately.

Sarah, who was much more quick on the draw than you would've been, smiled and said, "We all are, yeah."

You forced a soft laugh, unsure of where to direct your gaze. This whole interview had been one huge vat of chaos—and blatant misogyny—from the start, but Harry had conducted himself well so far, not balking or raising his voice once at the invasive and downright rude questions that were thrown at him. Perhaps you should've expected a question like this today, but you still struggled to keep your face neutral.

"So there's nothing going on romantically with Harry and the ladies?"

You suddenly found the keyboard in front of you incredibly interesting. What you really needed in this moment was a reassuring glance from Harry, but that would defeat the purpose of keeping your budding relationship a secret.

Attention from the public was still something you were getting used to. You'd gotten into songwriting because it was out of the public eye, but being with Harry would eventually lead you right into it. Not that you minded, you'd do whatever it took to be with him. But interviews like this one still left you feeling flustered.

"And who's back there on keys?"

Even though they were all your friends, you still felt your face flush as red as the leather skirt you wore for the interview.

"Y/n."

"That's Y/n."

"How are you doing back there, Y/n?"

"Fine," you managed to say, your voice barely above a squeak.

Risking a glance at Harry, you met his gaze. He gave you an encouraging smile, and it bolstered your confidence the slightest bit. Just enough to get you through this brief conversation.

"Just fine? Does Harry make you nervous?"

"Maybe Y/n's the one who's in love with him."

"Or maybe she just wants to fuck him!"

An awkward silence fell over the room after the interviewers' comments and questions. You didn't even know what to say, or how you were expected to respond. Feeling the sympathetic stares from the rest of the band, you took a deep breath and tried not to cry, feeling extremely embarrassed.

Harry's jaw ticked, and you were pretty sure you were the only one who noticed. It was the first time he'd reacted to any of the questions asked today. And you could see it in his face that he was beyond pissed off.

This wasn't what you expected, and clearly Harry hadn't expected it either. But you also didn't want him to storm off and make a big scene. You just wanted to get through today and go home and rest with Buddy and Sweet Pea while you and Harry watched a movie together in bed. That thought kept you grounded, and you tried your hardest to convey to Harry that you were okay without saying anything.

"I, um, I met Harry in the studio in LA," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

"Really?"

"Yeah, Y/n's a songwriter, but she's generously lent her fabulous keyboarding skills to us this year," Harry said.

"A songwriter?" You felt the interviewer's gaze sweep over you, as if he couldn't quite believe it.

Another tick of Harry's jaw.

"Yeah. But I've enjoyed doing this too. Traveling and performing with Sarah's band," you said, a meek attempt at a joke.

"You must be getting laid a lot on the road as a proper rockstar now. You could probably get whoever you wanted. Well, maybe not Harry, but close to anyone. Are you taking advantage of being on the road with Harry? A new man every night?"

You swallowed thickly, the will not to cry hanging on by a thread. "I—I don't think my brothers be cool with—"

"Shut the fuck up, mate."

Shocked silence filled the room. Clearly, the interviewers didn't expect someone as laid back as Harry to speak up that way. A mix of relief and unease washed over you, unsure of how the rest of the interview was going to pan out now. But you couldn't say you didn't feel relieved that he'd spoken up.

"Harry, we're only—"

"You're being fucking disrespectful to the members of my band, and I'm not fucking putting up with it. Either ask me your fucking questions or let me go. My band and I aren't putting up with your bullshit."

Harry hadn't wanted to come here. He knew the reputation of the interviewer, but it had still somehow made it onto the list of interviews and appearances to promote the album. You'd watched as he grew more and more irritated with each question, but he seemed to take them in stride. But the minute they were directed at you, he'd snapped.

A brief break in the interview ensued, producers suggesting that a couple minutes to regroup would do everyone some good. When everyone was ready to record again, a stilted topic change led Harry to introduce and talk about the Peter Gabriel song they were about to play. The rest of the interview teetered between overly professional and awkward. You could tell by the tense line of Harry's shoulders that he wanted to be anywhere else.

At some point while Harry was talking, Sarah looked over at you. "You okay?" she mouthed, and you nodded subtly, giving her a tiny thumbs up from behind your keyboard setup. Everyone in the band knew about you and Harry. It was hard to hide your relationship when he was by your side whenever you weren't rehearsing a song, and like Mitch and Sarah, he was almost always facing you during rehearsals. It was sweet how he was always pulling you aside during lunch breaks and sitting beside you on the piano bench. One time, when Harry had a film crew film a performance of each song on the album, he asked if the recording of "Fine Line" could just be you and him. Both of you sat on stools with your respective guitars as you performed a stripped-back version of the song, your voice supporting Harry's with a soft harmony occasionally. It was a special moment for the two of you, especially because the song meant so much.

After that, there were no questions about what you meant to each other.

At the end of the interview, Harry was quick to leave, hardly sparing anyone a glance as he stalked out. You stayed back to break down your equipment like you normally did, your hands shaking a little as the desire to comfort Harry took over.

"Go, I got this," Mitch said, coming over to help.

"Really?"

Mitch nodded before bumping his shoulder against yours. "Yeah. We still on for dinner tonight?"

You nodded. "Might have to be at my apartment, though. I don't think he'll be up for going out."

You left soon after that, walking out of the recording room where the interview had taken place. The green room was down the hall, and you entered despite the closed door. "It's me," you said quietly before entering, closing the door behind you with a soft click.

Harry was already out of his blue sweater and green trousers, a pair of brown corduroys on as he shrugged into a yellow t-shirt. He looked up briefly, then looked back down again as he slipped a pair of Vans on.

"How are you feeling?"

"Mad, upset, guilty," he said with a shrug.

"Why on earth do you feel guilty, love?"

"That never should've fucking happened," he seethed, but in Harry fashion, it just meant his voice was clipped and low as he tried to get a handle on his anger. "You didn't deserve that. I should've stood up for you."

"I...You did, H." You didn't want to say that it was okay, because obviously the whole situation wasn't, but you knew he wasn't to blame. The topic of him sticking up for you was a touchy one. "You were put in a tough position, yet you still put those assholes in their place. Let's just go home and forget about all this shit, okay?"

Harry nodded, but he still wouldn't meet your eye, which wasn't going to work for you one bit.

"Hey," you said, tilting his chin up with your fingertips. "Don't beat yourself up. Please? For me?"

For the first time since the midpoint of the interview, Harry grinned. He threaded his fingers through yours before giving you a kiss, his lips soft and familiar against yours. You felt some of the tension leave his body until he eventually pulled away and draped an arm over your shoulders, your hands still connected.

"Never fucking coming to this place again," Harry murmured on the way out, keeping you tucked closely to his side.

"Amen to that."

Harry looked down at you, the anger and frustration finally clearing from his eyes. When it came to you, to your feelings, he was very protective. And you were too, in your own way. You leaned on each other, supported each other, and spent time together without ever being sick of one another. There was no doubt in your mind that he loved you, and even though it might put him in hot water with his management or the interviewer, it meant a lot to you that he stood up for you the way he did. You didn't need him to throw punches or push people up against walls—honestly, that was what your brothers were for—but when it all boiled down, he put you and your feelings first, always and without question.

"I love you," he murmured, his thumb rubbing circles over the top of your hand.

"Even with my crazy brothers?"

"Even with your crazy brothers."

"Hm. Even when Buddy steals your spot on the bed?"

"Even then."

"Even in the mornings when my feet are cold and they brush up against your legs?"

When Harry didn't answer right away, you playfully pinched his side until he laughed and kissed the top of your head. "Babe, I'm gonna love you on your worst day, you know that."

And even though you did, your cheeks became rosy, your whole body tingling with warmth. "Good. Because I love you too. So much."

So much pain had been felt, so much devastation had been endured before you and Harry fell into a perfect rhythm. It wasn't easy, and if you were to look back at the girl who believed she was fucked in the head and incapable and undeserving of love and being loved, you would still think it was all worth it. You would endure it all again if it led you to this moment, if it ended up with Harry cradling your heart of glass in his hands and protecting it as if it was his own.

Hand in hand, you went home and didn't look back at the shattered glass you'd long since left behind.

#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #fine line

[zoetekohana]

Ruby deserved better.

She deserved proper closure from Otis. She so very obviously still loved him, and was heartbroken when he ignored her texts because of Maeve. It's like Eric said, "When Maeve is involved, Otis doesn't care about anyone else anymore."

I kept waiting for Otis to go up and have a genuine talk with her, sincerely apologizing to her, but it never happened. The only thing was, "Want to be friends?" I'm so happy she turned that offer down because girl deserved better.

(I was rooting for them, though, ngl. I just really love their chemistry and interaction.)

I wish she would have had more interaction with the rest of the cast. Maybe her and Eric discussing how awful it feels when they're being neglected by Otis because of Maeve.

I wish she would have had a little more growth shown, actually on screen, where she acknowledged that her having been heavily bullied made her a bully herself as a means to protect herself. Just a bit more than just that little speech she gave at the end of wanting to become better. I mean, it was all implied very well, but I wanted her to have more screentime to have fleshed that out more. But good for her for saying condolences to Maeve about the latter having lost her mom, and not defending herself when Maeve brushed her off because Maeve had every right to do that.

Also, there should have been a mention that she's such a political powerhouse (she got Connor elected for therapist in two or so weeks, while the other two candidates have been therapists for years) and she would want to pursue a career in that. I could easily see her become a softer version of Jen Barkley from Parks & Rec.

Honestly, Ruby really deserved better.

#sex education #sex education spoilers #ruby matthews #rotis #otis x ruby #zoe liveblogs

[bloatedandalone04]

The Only Reason

➪the one where leon finally gives you some much needed closure after four months of feeling nothing but regret from what he did.

Warnings: angst, fluff, making out, swearing, mentions of cheating, cheating, toxic relationships, mentions of a bad past, mentions of weight loss, all the ada slander in the world because i actually cannot stand her, mentions of unwanted sexual attention (from ada to leon), unwanted intimacy (from ada to leon), eating disorders (implied)

Word Count: 5.2k | Part 1

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

The loud music and thumping of the walls were the last thing on Leon’s mind as he scanned every single room of the house. Chris decided to throw a housewarming party for Claire at her new place, and of course Leon was invited. 

Leon refused the initial invitation, but quickly changed his mind when Chris told him that you would be there. It seemed as though the brunet had long since grown sick of his friend’s moping and knew he had to do something about it. 

Pretty much everyone that Leon knew was here, yet he couldn’t seem to find you. The house wasn’t big, and it didn’t have very many rooms, but it seemed like it was still impossible to locate you. Not that he even had a right to. 

If he does manage to find you, what would he even say? “I’m sorry for everything, and for letting you leave without trying to fight for you. Also, I don’t blame you for ignoring my calls and not texting me back, I deserve that.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he sounded that desperate. Back when he was a dumb twenty one year old, he supposed. 

Leon has been here for over an hour now, and he still hasn’t seen you once. He was beginning to think that Chris lied to him just to get him out of the house he used to share with you. While he wouldn’t put it past him, Leon wanted to give Chris the benefit of the doubt and believe that he had good intentions when he invited him to this thing. 

Nearly giving up on his search, Leon heads back to the kitchen, where Jill hands him a bottle of beer. She leans against the counter and he does the same, his eyes still expertly scanning the room, just in case.  “Hey, Kennedy,” she greets as she sips on her own beer. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Been busy with work?”

Leon shrugs, his face almost emotionless. “Yeah,” he lied. Of course he had been going to work and successfully completing missions, but he hadn’t left the house outside of that. Work usually took up a good portion of his time, and the rest of it was spent thinking about how badly he fucked things up with you. 

It wasn’t even worth it. Ada. 

He hadn’t seen her since he broke off their little agreement a month before he confessed to you, despite her texting him and asking to meet up so he can fuck her in exchange for information he thought was worth more than you. 

It really wasn’t. 

He’s been ignoring her texts for months now, just like how you’ve been ignoring his. 

Leon had never blocked someone’s number ever in his life, but Ada was about to be the first if she didn’t take the hint and leave him the fuck alone. 

As much as he wanted to put all the blame on her, he knew it was half his own fault, as well. He couldn’t believe he had gone back to Ada Wong when he had you, his entire world, waiting for him at home. 

He knew he would never forgive himself, even if you somehow managed to move on and forgive him for the worst mistake he had ever made in his twenty nine years of living. 

Four months. 

It’s been four months and he was still beating himself up for what he did to you. 

“Yeah, Chris and I are looking into this new virus that is spreading down in Oxford. The cases have been going up daily, might be something you can help out with,” she offered, leaning closer to him so he could hear her better over the loud music. “You’re more experienced with viruses than anyone else I know.”

Leon gave her a tight lipped smile. “Sure, Jill,” he replied. “Whatever you need.”

“Great,” she says as she finishes off her beer. “You staying long? I never took you as the party type.”

He really wasn’t. He hadn’t been to a party since he was nineteen. Even the frat parties he was invited to were boring, so he never had the urge to go to anymore after the age of twenty. Until now, because he was told that you would be here. 

And he wanted to see you so badly. 

“I’m not, really,” he agreed and brought the bottle up to his mouth. “I just thought someone I know would be here-”

He wasn’t able to take a sip of the alcohol before his eyes landed on you as soon as you entered the room. 

All words had died on his tongue and the bottle was raised half way before his hand froze. 

You looked beautiful. Your cute white dress fit you well and showed off the concerning amount of weight you had lost. He hadn’t seen you that small since the beginning of your relationship, back when you didn’t know how to take care of yourself and listen to your body’s warnings. 

Leon felt his heart constrict at the thought of you going back to your old ways of ignoring the signs your body tried giving you. You were barely getting by when he met you, and you hadn’t gone completely back to that since leaving him, if your makeup and pretty hair were anything to go by. 

You hadn’t given up on yourself entirely, and that gave him enough hope that you would be okay. Even if he was given the chance to talk to you and explain things, he knew you weren’t completely broken like you were when you first started dating, and that you would be fine if you decided to never forgive him. 

Looking as shy as ever, you inch further into the room, seeming to have not noticed Leon yet as you ventured over to the bottles of booze that had been set out on the counter. “Oh, shit, is that Y/n?” Jill asked as she squinted in your direction. “I didn’t know she was coming, but that pretty much explains why you’re here. Are you okay?” 

Leon watched as you browsed through the drink options, dropping his arm back to his side and not caring about the beer that splashed onto his hand at the quick movement. He didn’t take his eyes off you as he slowly shook his head, a quiet “No,” leaving his mouth afterwards. 

Jill looked between the two of you, unsure of what to say. “Do you want to move to another room?”

Leon shook his head again. “No. You said it yourself, Jill. This is why I’m here,” he muttered and watched as a younger guy moved to stand next to you. He helped you pour a large amount of vodka mixed with ginger ale into a cup, and he quickly recognized the guy as one of the new agents Claire had befriended named Kegan. 

Kegan stepped closer to you and Leon could instantly tell that you were uncomfortable. He knew you like the back of his hand and could tell when you got nervous or anxious, like how you are right now. 

Leon stood up straight and placed the untouched bottle of beer behind him on the counter before making his way across the kitchen. 

Within four strides he is behind you and towering over Kegan, who noticed Leon long before you did. “Kennedy? Leon Kennedy is actually at a party? Wow, never thought I’d see the day,” 

Leon glared at him and it was then when you realized who was standing behind you. “You don’t know me,” Leon stated as you turned to face him, but he just kept his eyes on Kegan. Leon had quite the reputation at work, and he was well known as the guy who is more than capable of completing any mission, no matter how tough it may be. 

That being said, his superiority often annoyed the new guys as they tried to live up to the high expectations and standards of Leon Kennedy. 

“And you don’t know her, but I do, and I know she wants you to leave her alone but is far too nice to actually say that to you, so I’ll do it for her,” Leon continued and felt his heart skip a beat at the quiet gasp that left your lips. 

Kegan looked between you and Leon, and more specifically the protective look in his eyes, before backing away with his hands up. “My bad, man,” he shrugged. “Didn’t realize she was with you.”

He disappeared in the crowd as you turned completely to face your ex. “You didn’t need to do that,” you muttered and Leon could feel his face heat up at the fact that you were actually talking to him. You wore an annoyed look, but still, you’re talking to him. “I could’ve done that myself.”

Leon forced a grin to form on his lips. “But I bet you’re glad I did it, instead,” when you just shook your head and began to leave the kitchen, Leon stepped in front of you, refraining from grabbing your hand like he so desperately wanted to. “Wait, please.”

“What, Leon?” You asked and you sounded so exhausted, it made his heart physically break a bit. “What could you possibly have to say to me right now?”

“Everything,” he answered instantly. “I want to say everything I didn’t say the day you left. Please, give me a chance.”

You narrow your eyes and cross your arms. “It’s been months, Leon,” 

“Four,” he confirmed, watching the brief shock that flashed across your face. “And I’ve thought about you everyday for every one.”  

You give him a conflicted look that is quickly followed by a sigh. “There is nothing you can say that will fix what happened, just so you know,” 

Leon nodded and held his hand out to you, surprise filling him when you actually took it. “I just need you to know that it wasn’t your fault, and that it’s all on me,” he promised as he led you towards the front door, missing Chris’ look of relief as he passed him.

While he didn’t know the full story of what his friend did to you, he knew Ada had been involved in the reason you were no longer together. Chris was never a fan of Ada and how she treated Leon whenever the two crossed paths, and he was sure the blond felt the same way after being her little pet for years. He was sure the two of you would end up getting married, so he could not fathom how the fuck Leon had let Ada get in the way of what you and he had. 

All in all, he was sick of Leon’s bad moods, and wanted his friend to go back to normal. Well, as normal as Leon Kennedy could be. 

Leon led you out onto the front porch, and with one look from him, the two guys who were standing out there quickly scampered back into the house. Once you were alone, he turned back to face you with guilty eyes, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to figure out what to say to you. 

He had wanted the chance to talk to you again for months, and now that you are actually here in front of him he was blanking. 

But he wouldn’t let his inability to form a proper sentence be what cost him his once chance at explaining to you why he did what he did.

An apology would be a good place to start, right?

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly as he finally allowed himself to look into your guarded eyes. You looked at him as if he were a stranger, and he supposed he kind of is now. The person you both thought he was would’ve never done what he did to you, no matter how important those fucking files were. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

You nod and lean back against the railing, crossing your arms as you stare at him with a soft glare. “I’m really glad we agree on that,”

He knew he deserved that. He deserved worse, actually, but you were simply too kind to completely go off on him, and he simply never deserved you in the first place. “That’s fair, you’re being hostile,” he mumbled and felt his skin begin to heat up under his dark leather jacket. “I know I have no right to even be talking to you right now, but I just need you to know that what I did with Ada was the worst thing I have ever done, and I’ve done a lot of bad shit in my life. None of them cost me you, though, so they’re not very high on that list.” 

You tense up at the name you’ve hated since the second you heard it, and the mention of her sent your insecurities right back to the front of your mind. “Yeah, well,” you trail off, kicking a stone that was on the porch away from you as you avoid his stare. “I hope she was worth it, because I haven’t been able to wrap my head around the fact that Ada fucking Wong is the reason the best relationship I had ever been in ended.”

“She wasn’t worth it,” he said instantly, taking a cautious step towards you. “She was never worth it, even back when I was a stupid twenty one year old and trying to start my career. She never cared, and I wasn’t smart enough to see that. I’m not smart at all. If I had half a brain I would’ve never gone back to her ever again.” 

You shake your head. “You can say that now, but it doesn’t change anything,” you mumbled. “You cheated on me with the one person I’ve been worried about since day one. You promised me that she was in your past, and that you were over her. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to believe that. Guess we’re both fucking dumb.”

“No,” he said sternly. “You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. Ada hasn’t had control over my heart for a long time now, it’s always been you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the day we met, and that was years ago. I know I fucked up, but I’ve never stopped believing that you’re it for me. I don’t want anyone else, and that was clear after I met you.”

Your lip was quivering just slightly and you blinked back tears, trying to stick to your promise of never crying over the man in front of you ever again. You weren’t sure how much longer you could keep that promise if you were to continue to talk to him. “Then why did you do it? Why did you ruin what we had?” You regretfully ask and quickly add, “And I want the truth, not some bullshit story you always seem to come up with. Be honest with me, Leon.”

Leon really felt pathetic at this point as he felt his heart jump a bit at the fact that you said his name. He missed you so much, he missed hearing your voice, and he missed the way his name sounded when it came out of your mouth. 

He knew his answer wouldn’t satisfy you at all, but he said it anyway, “It was just about work,”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” you say angrily, wiping under your eyes before he could see your tears. “Don’t waste anymore of my time, Leon. I refuse to spend another second with you if you’re just going to lie to me. You’ve done that enough.”

Leon shut up after that, shifting from one foot to the other and beginning to feel anxious. He shouldn’t feel this way around you. He had known you for four years and been with you for three, he should feel comfortable around you, but he supposed he lost that right, too. 

At his lack of words, you turn away and are about to head back inside when he grabs your wrist and pulls you away from the door. “Y/n, wait,” he begs, blue eyes clouding over with desperation as he stares hopelessly down at you. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. There are no words that could ever describe it. I hate that I hurt you and I hate that I fucked up the best thing I had going for me. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

You fell silent as your eyes flickered from his lips then back to his eyes. 

What if….for just one more night…what if.

“I should’ve never let you walk out that day without explaining to you that it was all my fault, just like how I should’ve never let Ada come anywhere near me. But I’m weak,” he was saying all the words he should have said to you the day he confessed that he had been seeing Ada. God, even her name made a feeling of disgust creep into his bones. “I’ve always been weak when it comes to you and my job and everything. I’m not cut out for this kind of thing, but you made me feel like I was. I can’t believe I took that for granted.” 

Your eyes burned once again and you moved to lean back against the railing when he inched closer.

“You’re everything to me, sweetheart,” he sounded so genuine, you almost thought you could believe him. He placed his hands on the railing behind you and leaned down so his face was close to yours. “You always will be. She is, by far, the biggest mistake of my life and I promise that I haven’t seen her since. I can’t stand even thinking about her-”

He wasn’t able to finish that sentence as you leaned in and pressed your mouth to his.

Just one more night. 

You just needed one more night with him, one where you could pretend you were still happy and still in love. One where you were still oblivious to the affair he was having with his ex…or whatever the fuck they were. 

Just one more night to fuck him out of your system, then you’ll never have to see him again after this. 

Leon got lost in the feeling of having your lips on his for the first time in months. His hands immediately grip your waist and his body presses right up against your own. 

He missed you more than anything else in the entire world. Every single inch of you, he craved it everyday. He was so fucking angry with himself for how he destroyed your relationship and for how he hurt you after he swore he wouldn’t. After he swore he was different. 

Really, he wasn’t far off from the assholes you had given your heart to in the past, even though he tried so hard to be. 

His fingers bunch up the fabric of your dress and he wanted to take you right there, right against the railing of his friend’s new porch, but you deserved more than that. He wanted to give you more than that. 

Your hands slide up to tangle in his hair and he never thought he’d ever get to feel your soft yet firm touch again. He couldn’t help but melt into it. 

Your lower back pressed against the cool metal and the contrast of it had you gasping against his mouth. 

Leon groaned at your quiet sound of pleasure and couldn’t deny how it went straight to his dick. Sometimes he really hated being a man who had no control over that part of his body. “Missed that sound,” he mumbled against your mouth. “Missed everything about you, pretty girl.” 

You moan into his mouth and he swallows it like the greedy man he is. “Take me home, Leon,”

It was like a switch had been flipped. He pulled away but kept his hands on your hips. Now that he had gotten a taste of you again, he never wanted to let you go. But he needed to focus on why he sought you out tonight. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he trails off, noting the brief look of embarrassment that flashed in your eyes. “I don’t want you to think that this is all I wanted out of-”

“I want it, Leon,” you cut him off, pulling him closer by his jacket. “I want you. I know you don’t want me anymore, but-”

He shook his head and pressed another kiss to your lips, against his better judgment. “I do still want you, baby,” he promised. “I want you, always.”

You bite down on your lip and don’t miss the way his eyes flicker downwards when you do so. “Then take me home,” you pressed, watching as he seems to have an inner battle with himself. 

You weren’t sure what result you wanted out of this; him agreeing and getting you off one last time, or him rejecting you of what he so gladly took from Ada. 

 Either way would provide you with some closure, you’d hope. 

A few more seconds pass before he’s moving away and taking your hand. He leads you to his car and drives the familiar road to the house you lived in with him not too long ago. 

As he guided you through the very door you walked out of the day he told you what he did, he gave you a conflicted look as he said, “Just so you know, this isn’t all I want from you. I meant everything I said before,”

You give him a blank look as you move closer to him. “I don’t care,” 

Leon looked like he was in agony as you grabbed his jacket and pulled it from his body. “Don’t say that,” he begged. “Please.”

You don’t say anything else as you pull on his hands and walk backwards until your knees hit the edge of the couch. Sitting on the armrest, you run your fingers down his toned chest and try to remember that this will be a one time thing. He wasn’t yours and this wouldn’t be like all the other times you and he had been intimate. 

“I don’t want to talk anymore,” you whisper, grabbing his wrist and guiding his hand to your chest. “So please, don’t say anything else.”

Leon could only nod, regret filling him at what he knew he made run through your head. You thought this was all he wanted, when in reality he just wanted you back. 

He leaned down and gently grabbed either side of your face as he kissed you deeply, pushing you back against the very couch you broke up with him on four fucking months ago. 

It was too much, but he couldn’t stop. He was too afraid you’d leave him forever if he did. He really was fucking weak when it came to you. He was selfish. 

He wanted you back so badly, his brain couldn’t keep up with his body. His lips were placing kisses desperately to your mouth as he felt your legs wrap around his waist. 

Leon wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to function again if you were to never talk to him after this. He didn’t even want to think about it. 

But it seemed as if you were doing the opposite. 

He kissed along your neck for a few seconds before hearing a sharp intake from you that was followed by the push of your hands against his shoulders. “Wait,” you nearly gasp, sitting up when he instantly pulls away from you, proving to you that he is at least a little better than your past boyfriends. They would have ignored you and continued touching you until they got what they wanted. 

Leon stood back and put a bit of distance between the two of you, his eyes guilty and his heart on his sleeve. “I’m sorry,” he says and you just shake your head, straightening your dress back out. 

“No, I initiated this. I’m sorry, I don’t know what got into me,” you apologize and stand up. “I should go. This was a mistake.” 

Leon felt his heart break as you quickly stood up and made your way to the door. He got flashbacks to the day you left him, and he knew he wasn’t prepared to see you walk out that door for the second time. 

Maybe he didn’t have to.  

You passed by the counter and abruptly stopped, your eyes fixated on something on the granite. Leon held his breath as he watched you move towards the island, your hand reaching out to grab his keys. “Leon,” you gasped quietly, your fingers gently moving something on the chain. He knew what was on it. The ring haunted him every time he used his keys, and that was the exact reason why he attached it to the chain in the first place. 

He stayed still when you turned to look back at him, his keys held tightly in your hand.

“You kept it?” You asked in a hoarse voice. You would recognize that ring anywhere, even after only seeing it one time. You couldn’t believe he kept it instead of selling it, and you were heartbroken to discover that he saw it every day whenever he entered or left his house. 

Your question offended him, but he’d never show it. “Of course I kept it,” and yet another flashback flickered in his head. 

You weren’t sure you wanted the answer, but you asked, anyway, “Why?”

Leon hardly moved as he answered, “As a reminder,” 

And it was the truth. 

And then you broke your promise as the first of many tears began to fall. 

You wished you never met him. Never said yes when he asked you out on a date, said no when he asked you to move in. You wished you didn’t agree to come to that stupid housewarming party, because now you felt lost all over again. 

Setting the keys loudly on the counter, you turn to face him fully. “Why?” You asked, your voice angry and shaky as you tried to keep your cool. “Why did you do it? I loved you more than anything else. You saved my life, Leon. Why didn’t that mean anything to you?”

Leon felt his own eyes burn as he stepped away from the couch but made no move to walk over to you. “It means the world to me, Y/n,” he promised, his heart begging his body to take you into his arms, but he held back. “So do you.”

Your lower lip trembled as you moved to stand in front of him. “Why?” You ask again, much quieter this time around. You reach up and push on his chest just slightly, knowing damn well it wouldn’t faze him one bit. And it didn’t. “Why did you go to her?”

Leon refrained from taking your hands that were still on his chest in his. “Because she had something I needed,” he regretfully answered. 

Your brows furrow and he knew he accidentally offended you with his poor choice of words. “What, I wasn’t good enough? Didn’t put out enough for you?”

“No,” he said immediately, going against his better judgment again and wrapping his fingers around your wrists. “You’re more than enough for me. You always have been and you will be forever. The thought of doing that with her made me sick and I hate myself for it, but it was the only way she would give me the information I needed for my job.”

Your eyes softened a bit but your whole body was still guarded. “Your job you can’t tell me anything about?” 

“Yes,” he whispered, his face twisting up in agony when more tears fell from your eyes. “That’s the only reason I went to her. She had something I needed, but if I ever had to do it all over again, I’d tell her to fuck off and I’d get it some other way. I can’t stand the fact that I hurt you like that.”

You tried to process his words, but you didn’t know what to think anymore. 

You believed him, and it was clear he felt awful about all that came out of his encounters with Ada. But you also weren’t sure what he wanted out of this encounter with you. Yeah, it appeared he wanted to fix things, but who’s to say he won’t shatter your heart again? 

You couldn’t take much more. You knew that. 

“It was just for work?” You asked quietly, avoiding his eyes as he pressed your hand flat against his chest. “You’re not in love with her?”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head to further get the point across. “No. I don’t love her, not anymore. Maybe I never did. She never made me feel the things you did and still do. My heart was never hers. It’s yours. Even after tonight, I’ll still be yours, even if you aren’t mine.”

Your eyes were begging for a break, but the tears kept coming. “My heart is yours, Leon. It’s yours to break,” you whisper. “And you did.”

He couldn’t stop himself from taking you into his arms. He wrapped you up and let out a sigh of relief when you let him, and even held onto his waist. “I’m so fucking sorry,” he says, kissing the side of your head. “So fucking sorry. I swear, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I’d use my last breath for you, baby. You’re my entire world. You’re everything.”

“Leon,” you beg, bunching his shirt up in your fists. “Don’t do this to me again. Don’t hurt me again, I-....I can’t take it.”

“I won’t,” he promised, cradling the back of your head in his hand as if you were the most frail and fragile thing in the world. “I love you so much. It’s you who I want for the rest of my life. I never doubted that. I never want you to doubt that.”

You nod and press your head to his chest. “It’s going to take some time,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe a lot of time-”

“I’ll wait forever for you,” he swore, leaning back and pressing a kiss to your forehead. He was shaking now, disbelief filling his entire being at the fact that you were letting him hold you like this again. 

You look over at his keys before meeting his eyes again. “I won’t forget about what you did, Leon,” you murmur, watching the guilt seep back into his blue orbs. “But I’m willing to forgive….I just need time.”

Leon nodded, wrapping you back up in his arms. “I’ll give you all the time you need, I promise,” he rasps. “Just don’t leave me again.”

He had no right asking you that, but he also had no control over his words at this point. 

But you just pressed your lips to the side of his neck. “Don’t give me another reason to,”

#leon #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon re #re4 leon #leon smut #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy imagines #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil 4 #resident evil 2 remake #resident evil x reader #angst

[nathaslosthershit]

After All This Time

Summary:(Part 2 to The Truth Behind it All) After years of no contact, watching as his career continues to thrive, getting a message from Charles is the last thing she had expected, but she wasn’t the only one surprised after finally reconnecting. 

He had thought about this for a long time. The urge to reach out is one he had felt for years since they separated, but he could never push himself to do it. Then one day, five years later, he couldn’t take it anymore and sent her a message. Charles hadn’t thought he would be able to easily get into contact with her. Five years of silence on both sides didn’t give him much hope, so when she had answered his message hours after he sent it, he felt relieved.

---

From Charles Leclerc:

Hello. It has been a long time and I know this is sudden. I understand that it might not be okay for me to be doing this, and if it isn’t I understand if you do not answer but I still wanted to try. We left off on bad terms, our relationship had gone bad quicker than I think we had thought possible. I was hoping if we could meet up, for closure if anything else. I await your reply, but know that you do not need to give me one.

All the best, 

Charlie

Reply to Charles Leclerc:

Charles,

It is a surprise to hear from you, I won’t lie. But it isn’t an unwelcome one. I hope you are well! We did leave things badly and I would also like to get the chance to speak. Thank you for reaching out. I await your reply now.

---

After much back and forth, the two had decided when Charles traveled to her current country of residence for a race, they would meet. It took a few months, both waiting nervously for the day to arrive. When it did, they both met at a restaurant close to her place.

The first thing he noticed when he saw her was how much more beautiful she was. She still looked the same, maybe a little more wear and tear but she wore it with this air of maturity and wisdom she didn’t have last time he had seen her. She had grown a lot in the past five years and he could tell. It was nice to see.

He also looked the same but also different. She had noticed he too had this air of confidence that was less cocky and more founded on the fact that he had achieved so much, not just that he thought he could.

“You look… beautiful.” Charles said.

“You are very handsome yourself, although I think you have enough people telling you that regularly that it probably has lost all meaning.”

“Ha, It is nice to hear it from you though. How have you been? What are you doing now?”

“Still working in my same field. I got offered a better job here though, that's why I moved. I’d ask how racing is going but I already know the answer to that.”

“You watch my races?”

“I have never missed one. Even when we had just broken up. I am so proud, Charlie.”

“I thought you’d have stopped, especially with how cruel everyone was.”

“Nothing could ruin my love for it. Though we weren’t together, I still wanted to support you.”

This made Charles tear up. And watching him tear up made her do the same. They could feel all the love they once had for each other, but it was different this time.

“Are you seeing anyone? Have you settled? It must be hard to do that when you are on the road so much.” She asked.

“Ah no. I have tried but it is hard to get people to stick around through all of it. All the good and the bad.” This made her feel guilty. She had realized long after that she had put him in a hard position. He could have fought harder for them, but she could have too.

“I am sorry, Charles. You deserve someone stronger who can get through it. I wasn’t that person but I know they are out there.” “It is okay, I promise. We both weren’t ready for everything that came our way. It wasn’t fair to either of us but I should have tried to fight harder. I am sorry too.” They were silent as they held each other’s hands, until he asked, “What about you? Have you settled down?” She couldn’t miss the hopeful tone in his voice that just broke her heart.

“Yes actually. I met someone 5 months after we broke up. Married a year later. Had two kids after that. Twins.” It almost killed her to watch as his heart broke a second time hearing this. But even as hard as it was to tell him she moved on, she couldn’t stop how her eyes would light up talking about her family.

How could he be mad when she was so happy? 

“I am so happy to hear that.” He said. He was, deep down, even if it still hurt.

“My kids love watching your races. My husband says they are destined to go into motorsports, we are looking to put them into karting as soon as they are old enough. They love it.”

He laughed. The apple didn’t fall too far from the tree then. It made sense her kids would have inherited her love for the sport.

 “When they are older I would be happy to invite them onto the paddock. If you are comfortable, of course.”

“They would love that! Oh, Charles, thank you.” 

Conversation flowed easily after that. Two people, once so connected, catching up after all this time.

After a couple hours, she had a family to get back to, and he had a plane to catch later. He smiled the whole way home, it was a bittersweet moment. But once he got to his hotel, he let himself cry, mourn what could have been. What he didn’t know was that she was doing the same. She loved her husband with every fiber of her being. If she had the chance to do it over again she wouldn’t change a thing, too happy with her life now. But it still hurt to imagine a different version of their story, one where they stayed together. 

In another universe maybe.

Taglist: @mirrorball-6, @itsjustkhaos, @janeholt3, @loloekie, @babelllllllll, @ivegotparticulartaste

(Names crossed out couldn’t be tagged for whatever reason)

#formula 1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine

[coalswriting]

murder and rescue - ghostface!natalie scatorccio

summary – upon the closure of your school following a double homicide on its premises, you decide to go to a house party with your girlfriend, meeting the one behind the murders (approx. 1.6k words) >> part ii <<

a/n – I’ve only seen scream like. once. when i was really drunk but !! i wanted to go a more wholesome(?) way with this prompt anyways. also! a quick trigger warning for attempted SA but it never develops past the verbal! enjoy <3  

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

school had been closed for the past few days due to a double homicide in the mens’ locker room. apparently, somebody by the name of ‘ghostface’ had been going around and killing students that were notoriously horrible to others. the two that had been murdered were known bullies on the mens’ soccer team that also had a few rumours of assault circulating around them.

or so, that’s what you were told. the police were extremely tight lipped about the information of the murders, urging anyone with any ideas towards ghostface’s identity to step up. with the closure of the school, students grew antsy and bored, and thus, you were invited to a huge house party hosted by jeff sadecki tonight. you were going with your girlfriend, natalie, and though you weren’t necessarily excited to go, you decided you would join her much to her delight.

“who do you think it is?”, natalie asked as she leaned on top of you, fixing your eyeliner.

“hm?”

“ghostface.”

“oh,” you said, going quiet for a moment to think, “honestly, it’s hard to tell. whoever it is, they’re only attacking people that deserve it. i mean, nobody deserves to die, but they only attack people that have done bad, y’know?”

natalie nodded silently before licking her thumb and wiping under your eye. “there”, she smiled, getting off you, “you look perfect now.”

you turned to face the mirror in the corner of your room, sticking your tongue out, “i look like a raccoon!”  

this elicited a husky laugh from your girlfriend as she elbowed you in the arm, “a sexy raccoon. now, what do you think would look better on me? this skirt or this one?”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

you had been at the party for about an hour and a half now. the moment you and nat had walked in the front door, people were handing you booze. one drink turned into five and before you knew it, you were drunk and wobbly, barely able to walk straight. nat was in a similar state, sitting with you and smoking on the patio.

“hey, nat,” jackie said, looping an arm around her shoulders. jeff sadecki stood behind his girlfriend, arms crossed with an irritated expression adorned upon his face. “can you help us sort an argument?”

natalie sighed, clicking her tongue. “can’t someone else sort it?”

“no,” jackie shook her head, “it’s not like you’re doing anything better. now, come with me.”

natalie gave you an apologetic look, mouthing “one second” as she was pulled to her feet and taken away from you. you grimaced at jackie’s pushiness, but you knew she was as intoxicated, if not more intoxicated than you, and for that, you would forgive her. smiling to yourself a little, you thought about your girlfriend and how awkward she must’ve been feeling listening to her friend argue with her jackass of a boyfriend. you wondered when they would break up; for shauna’s sake, you hoped soon. there was no way jackie and shauna weren’t in love with each other. your gaydar wasn’t amazing, but it also didn’t take someone with 20/20 vision to see that the two had obvious feelings.

you were pulled out of your thoughts by a gruff hand on your shoulder. looking up, confused in your drunken haze, your eyes met those of a random guy in a varsity jacket. he had curly copper hair and a smirk that definitely didn’t belong on his face. he looked you up and down with a faux confidence before opening his mouth, “what’s a beautiful lady such as yourself doing alone?”

you sighed, instantly pissed off by the presence of this randomer.

“i’m not interested, buddy. move on.”

he faltered for a second before visibly stiffening up again, “aren’t you on the ladies’ soccer team? i see you running around in that short, tight uniform all the time.” his voice sounded corrosive, as if hearing it for too long would give you hearing damage, “it would look nicer on my floor, i bet.”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

after trying to brush off the guy for around ten minutes, you had decided you’d had enough. you left the patio, instead opting to go into a busier room, the pervert in pursuit.

“what part of me walking away insinuated that i still wanted to be near you?”, you seethed, stopping him in his tracks with a hand placed firmly against his chest.

he raised an eyebrow, smirking his sickening smirk again, “you’re good at not giving in, darling.”  

you looked around the room for your girlfriend. this was the busiest room in the entire party, and yet, you couldn’t find her anywhere. you felt a nervousness grow in your stomach as the guy edged a bit closer.

you continued to stand in the room, arms crossed defensively as people slowly began to leave. it was nearing 2am now and as more and more people left the room, your worry became more prominent.  natalie was nowhere to be seen and this guy was still making you uncomfortable. you didn’t even remember his name – mark or matt? something like that. either way, he wasn’t letting up on his horrible flirting.

“i have to go look for somebody”, you said with tight irritation once the last person left the room. before you could get towards the door, mark/matt walked over to it. you felt panic well up in your stomach as you tried to run to the door before him. he put his hand on the bolt of the lock but before he could turn it to lock it, the phone in the corner of the room rang.

his smile fell as he looked at you, then at the phone. clearing his throat, he began to walk to the ringing device. “guess i’ll answer.”

you watched as he picked up the phone and listened to the voice on the other side. “who is this?”, he snapped, his face visibly becoming slightly pale, “what do you mean you’re coming for me?”

as you began to march towards the door, he slammed the phone down, yelling a, “hey! get back here!”

but, before he could reach you, the door swung open revealing none other than ghostface who was brandishing a knife. the copper haired pervert gasped, jumping from shock. he ran out another exit in the room, yelling about how he would call the police. wow, you thought almost ironically, no way did he just leave me here with this murderer. then, your own terror followed. you took a step back as ghostface took a step forward, their knife shining in the light.

“get away from me!”, you gasped, “please!”, edging slowly towards the exit. for some reason, you thought that if you’d walk slowly and cautiously, ghostface wouldn’t stab you. your heart was beating as fast as a rabbits, and for a moment, you genuinely thought that you’d drop dead from a heart attack before you could even get stabbed. you thought back to your girlfriend, head swirling with dizziness. she would probably never see you again, and oh, how you wished you could kiss her one last time. tears welled up in your eyes, a mix of shock and emotion.

then, ghostface ripped their mask off. blonde locks of hair cascaded down their shoulders, and you looked up, processing for a moment that the one dressed in all black was none other than your girlfriend. you felt your legs grow weak as natalie ran over to catch you before you could fall. it was her; she was behind the murders; she was the one who threatened people over the phone – she was the one that the police were after.

“(y/n)”, she breathed, cupping your face in hers, knife discarded to the side, “are you okay?”

tears streamed down your face, the alcohol feeling like a brick in your stomach, “you’re the murderer?”

natalie nodded, “surprise?”

“why?”

“to protect you, (y/n)”, she whispered roughly, “and all the other women of wiskayok high. abusive pieces of shit are all around us, baby”.

her warm breath was against your lips, “my own father did so much to hurt me; to ruin my life. he ruined me, and i’ll never be who i could’ve been because of him. i want to make sure that nobody else gets their life ruined by a jackass ever again.”

you nodded in a confused understanding. her reasoning didn’t sit fully right with you, but at this moment you couldn’t care. all that mattered is that you were safe; that she was here with you.  

before you could say anything else, you heard sirens as hues of red and blue shone through the windows. “run, nat,” you commanded, simply, and you watched the shock on your girlfriends face turn into a small smile.

“i’ll meet you later, babe, and we can talk about it more, yeah?”, she asked, hope in her voice. you nodded as natalie pulled you in, planting a chaste kiss on your lips. you smiled into it and then watched as your girlfriend stood up, reached a hand out to help you up, and then slid the mask back onto her head before running out towards the back garden.

you stood for a moment, the lights flashing around you. it felt like you were in a movie, ironically so, but you knew that you and your girlfriend would get through this together. and honestly, she kind of looked hot in that outfit. shaking your head, you brushed off the gay thoughts before making your own way into the garden, escaping before the police could find and question you.

a few minutes after you returned home, you heard the familiar clink of pebbles being thrown against your window. sliding your curtains open, you noticed the panting form of your girlfriend, and you mouthed a “one second,” before throwing a hoodie on to go and meet her.

she would have a lot of explaining to do, and you knew that you would keep an open mind for all of it.  

#yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio

[writeroutoftime]

speak now

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: when peter is getting married, you just want to go and make sure he's happy. but what happens when the officiant asks a very pertinent question?

warnings: none

words: 1.8k

a/n: this is an idea I've had forever, but in honor of taylor's version of the 'speak now' album, I finally finished it! please enjoy!

oOoOo

Leaning against Michelle’s kitchen counter, you glanced down at her pile of mail and noticed a thick, glossy card sticking out. “What’s this?” you asked curiously, moving forward to pull the card out from the pile.

Before you could, Michelle’s hand reached out and snatched the card. “It’s nothing.” she told you, rather unconvincingly.

“Alright.” you conceded, looking the other way before darting your hand out to grab the card from MJ’s unsuspecting hands. “Let go!” you shouted, wrestling the paper into your grasp, letting out a triumphant shout when you won the struggle.

Looking down at the card, your eyes scanned the cursive lettering, quickly noticing it was an invitation, suddenly freezing in your spot. The longer you stared at the invitation, the more you thought your heart was going to break out of your chest with how erratically it was beating. Tears welled in your eyes, yet you did nothing to keep them at bay.

You are cordially invited to the wedding of Peter Benjamin Parker and Regina Ann Thompson on August 15, 2023

“y/n.” MJ began, approaching you cautiously, arms open and eyes cast down in pity.

“He’s getting married.” you whispered, more so to yourself than anyone else. “When did you get this?” you asked, spinning around to face your friend. “When did you get this?” you repeated, waving the invitation franticly.

“Three weeks ago.”

Three weeks ago. Definitely too long to blame the postal office for a late invitation. “So, he doesn’t want me there.” you spoke aloud, falling down into a nearby chair.

It wasn’t that you felt you deserved to be at Peter’s wedding or that it was the greatest sin of all times you weren’t invited; but you thought that after everything the two of you had been through he would have at least had the decency to call you – hell even a text would be great – to let you know he was engaged. Once upon a time, the two of you were a couple, and there was a time in your life you imagined that you would be the one to marry Peter. You were so young and in love, oblivious to the world around you and the challenges that threatened your relationship.

As one of Peter’s oldest friends, of course, you knew that he was Spider-Man. In fact, you supported him through it all, never letting it get in the way of your friendship or the feelings you had for him. Eventually, Peter wised up and asked you out, and the rest was supposed to be history. While everything was fine at first, down the road you learned how difficult it was being the significant other of a superhero.

The sweet nothings and soft gazes eventually morphed into harsh words thrown at each other in the middle of the night after long patrols for Peter and constant worrying for you. Secrets built up like skyscrapers and the trust that once existed between the two of you for so long dissolved. Eventually, you figured it was better to stop now before either of you said things you would regret, no matter how much it hurt.

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you, y/n. You were just starting to live again, and I don’t want you to hole yourself back up.” MJ explained, wrapping her arms around your frame.

You let her hug you, keeping your own arms limp against your side, the gears in your mind turning and turning. “Take me as your plus one.” you finally said, pulling away to look MJ in the eyes.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Please MJ.” you begged. “Let me have, let this be my closure.” you continued, your mouth seemingly working faster than your mind. “I won’t even talk to him or let him know that I’m there. Please, I just want to see that he’s happy.” you cried, voice breaking at the end.

At the end of the day, even if Peter had left you with a broken heart, you just wanted to know that everything worked out for him. Even if you couldn’t be the one to give it to him, Peter deserved his happily ever after. Silently, you pleaded with MJ, your eyes glassy and desperate as she mulled the thought over.

“Fine.” she yielded. “But then that’s it, you have to get back out there and live your life.” she compromised.

“Promise.” you agreed. “He won’t even know that I’m there.”

oOoOo

Weeks later, you found yourself outside a church watching as friends and families eagerly filed in. Your eyes watched as MJ continued inside to her seat up front. She had offered to sit in the back with you, but you urged her to be there to support Peter. Besides, she would find you after the whole ceremony was over and you could make your escape.  

As you waited, your leg bounced, nerves continually rolling through your body. All you wanted was a glance of Peter before the ceremony. Looking both ways with determination, you snuck into the back rooms of the church, searching for where Peter would be waiting. Before you could find him, however, you heard voices coming your way, so you slipped into the nearest empty room, pressing yourself against the wall. Sucking in a breath, you willed yourself to become invisible. But what you heard had you slowly poking your head around the corner.

“What the hell?” a voice shrieked out. “Are you able to do this, or do I need to get someone else to do your job?”

Once glance and you saw the shouts came from Peter’s bride to be – Regina- who stood in front of a trembling bridesmaid, pointing fingers widely. The dress she wore looked as though it came straight out of a bakery, and you had to hold in your laugh. The bridal party walked by the room you were hidden in, and you pushed yourself further against the wall.

A breath of relief escaped your lips, but your heart clenched immediately after. Was this who Peter was marrying? Was this who was going to make him happy for the rest of his life?

Knowing you didn’t have much time left, you hurried into the church and slipped into a pew in the very last row. It wasn’t long before the officiant came out, shortly followed by Peter.

It was like time stopped the moment your eyes landed on his figure, His dark hair gelled back for the occasion, fiddling with his sleeves as he waited. You tried to gauge his emotion – was it a happy-nervous tick or a ‘dear god someone get me out of this’ nervous tick. Before you could think on it anymore, the organ music changed and the bridal procession began as the bridesmaids walked down the aisle before everyone stood as Regina walked out.

While all heads turned towards her, yours stayed on Peter the whole time, analyzing the way he reacted to his almost wife walking towards him. A smile graced his features, but even from far away you could tell the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Was all of this a joke? Was he settling? Looking for a way out?

Your mind raced with all these thoughts as officiant droned on. But something in your heart kept calling to you. Telling you that this wasn’t the way things were supposed to be. Telling you that you had to do something. Even if it was a mistake, you couldn’t live with the ‘what ifs’ that would plague your mind if you stayed quiet. And so, when the officiant called out “…speak out or forever hold your peace” you knew it was your moment.

As if possessed by some unknown force, you peeled yourself off the cold pew and stood among the sea of viewers. A collective gasp rang out through the church at your action, MJ being one of the first to look at you with a ‘are you kidding me’ look on her face. But, more importantly, you caught Peter’s gaze for the first time in months.

His jaw went slack as he stared at you. It had been months since Peter allowed himself to look at you. He had tried to shove everything that happened between you both into the furthest corners of his mind, but it seemed like fate had other plans.  

“What is going on?” Regina demanded, recognition in her eyes as she started you down.

Sweaty palms rested against your thighs, and you knew this was your last chance. With a deep breath, you let it all pour out. “Look, Peter, I am not the type of person who should be interrupting a wedding of all events. But I also know you. And I know that you are not the type of guy who should be marrying the wrong girl.  

“This is selfish of me, I’ll admit that. And if I am completelywrong then say the word and I will walk out of those doors with a smile on my face knowing that you’re happy. Because that’s all I want for you. But if there is even a small part of you that doesn’t want to go through with this marriage, then don’t.” you practically begged, not yet finished.

“You deserve all the happiness in the world, Peter. I know we had our challenges, but we were also something amazing together. So, please, don’t be noble Peter Parker always wanting to do the right thing. Do what you want to do.” you told him, fighting back the tears. “And, again, I know this was awful time, but I was told to speak now, right?” you asked through a watery giggle, staring down the man you loved as if your life depended on it.

There was a heavy silence that blanketed the church over the next few moments. With each second that passed, your heart grew heavier and heavier fearing you made a terrible mistake. Finally, you accepted defeat and began to walk out of the hall. You held yourself tightly, trying not to cry until you made it outside. However, before you could reach the doors, you felt a hand grasp your wrist, spinning you around.

You let out a breathy gasp as you stood face to face with Peter, his lips only inches from yours. It was as if time stood still in that moment, and you had to bite your lip to convince yourself it wasn’t all a dream. Any words you wanted to speak got stuck in your throat, but Peter leaned close to you, his warm breath against your ear caused you to shiver.

“I'll meet you when I'm out of my tux at the back door.” he whispered, nodding ever so slightly in confirmation.

Stumbling back, you left the church and found your way to the backdoor outside, waiting nervously. Nearly 10 minutes passed when the door floor opened, and Peter stood, his tie undone, and his tuxedo jacket abandoned. His hair looked mussed as though he had been anxiously running his fingers through just as you knew he had the habit of.

“Peter.” you breathed out, reaching towards him, nervous he might disappear.

“Did you mean it?” he questioned, grasping you against him tightly.

“What?”

“Did you mean everything you said in there? Are we going to make this work? Tell me I didn’t just walk out of my wedding for nothing.” he begged, also just as scared and vulnerable as you felt.

When words were lost on you, you instead closed the distance between the two of you until your lips met his for the first time in months. Though, it was like no time had passed as you and Peter fell into a familiar rhythm, saying all the apologies and confessions you couldn’t speak aloud. Yes, there was still a lot to work through, but you were together again and that’s all that mattered.

Thank god you were around when they said speak now.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #rita writes

[echosluvr]

rank the gallaghers

debbie - i have a huge bias towards her as i too grew up wanting a relationship with my father yet never getting it. her entire life she wanted to be loved and yet she was constantly abandoned/shunned. a lot of people hate her cause of the way she fought against fiona in the middle seasons, but they refuse to understand why (fi abandoned her just like monica, in debbies eyes). so yea , she's my number one gallagher,

lip & fi - i love them both equally, They both raised their siblings, not in the best way, but they did and i think they deserve their kudos for that. I love lip cause of his downfalls and his growth after that. he was supposed to be frank 2.0 and for a while he was, but he got better and he took the steps he needed to be lip gallagher not frank!!! fiona , she is soooo dear to me especially in the earlier seasons. imo she did get worse through the seasons and there were times were i could not stand her god/victim complex. but she did sacrifice a lot and deserved much much better from the men around her

ian - my literally me character. i cannot state enough how much i love him yet hate him. he is everything to me yet every time i rememeber how he and i are the same i want to scream and bite. he might have gotten his happy ending with mickey but there was so much more he deserved , especially getting therapy for being groomed since he was like 15 and getting closure with monica.

liam - he would be higher up if he had more to give but he is the inly one who never did anything wrong, he is my son and i hope he succeeds forever and ever

carl - i don't hate carl i just find him incredibly overrated and his plotlines never really stuck to me. but he was a great brother and deserves more credit for helping them rather than just being "hot"

monica - oh my god she is just the most tragic character to me, destined for downfall all because of franks obsession with her when she was manic. i think of her lost potential all the time and how if given the chance (meaning no frank) she would've tried to be a decent mom. she would've taken the steps, she would fail a lot but she would try

frank - i hate him, he can be funny, but i hope he is burning in hell forever and is like tantalus in the sense he can never drink alcohol cause evrytime he reaches for it, it disappears.

i dont think i missed anyone else but , i will say for all of them, they never reached their true potential and it hurts to think about it. like woaghhh, they made it but at what cost

#debbie gallagher #ian gallagher #lip gallagher #fiona gallagher #carl gallagher #liam gallagher #monica gallagher #frank gallagher #shameless #shameless us

[imagine-a-life-like-this]

Always Him : Chapter 39

Word Count : 1.3k

Warnings : swearing, brief sex scene, arguing, angsty

            So many memories flooded her brain as she walked to the house she used to live in. The house where she met Hongjoong and later fell in love with him. The house Kayla and Seonghwa fell in love with each other in. Where the group would gather for game nights and pre drinking before clubbing. This path was one she walked with Hongjoong many times. When he would pick her up from class or after dates he claimed weren’t dates. Holding hands with their arms swinging back and forth. To anyone else they would have looked like any other couple, but they weren’t. They never were.

            Now she walked the path alone, his words echoing in her mind. I’m fucking in love with you. You’re the one. The ONLY one. But memories of him denying her, saying she was just a friend, flashed in her brain. She paused as she noticed the house coming into view, wondering if she was making the right decision. Why now? She continued to ask herself. Why after she finally let go and started dating someone else did he say the words she so desperately wanted to hear?

            She knew in her heart that going to see him was a mistake, but she needed to see him. She needed to hear him say those words, see his face when he said them. Because she couldn’t believe him otherwise. She needed closure, she deserved closure after everything he put her through. So she walks the path alone, holding back her tears, and takes a deep breath before climbing the stairs towards the door.

            Hongjoong opened the door before she could ring the doorbell, pulling her into his arms immediately. But her arms stayed by her side. She didn’t bury her face in his chest like she used to. Or wrap her arms around him tighter than his around her. She stood there motionless. “I missed you, Y/n.” He whispered, pressing a soft kiss into her hair. But she didn’t say anything. She stayed silent, letting Hongjoong get his fill.

            “Let go. Please.” She begged, feeling her resolve fading with each second. He pulled away from her and looked at her, seeing her unamused face, seeing the tears she wanted so badly to blink back. And he came to the realization that she didn’t come to work things out with him. She wasn’t here to get back together with him; she was here for closure and he wasn’t ready for that. He wasn’t ready to let go.

            “Baby girl.” She shook her head before he could continue.

            “Don’t call me that. You don’t have the right to call me that anymore.”

            “Why the fuck did you come here if not to get back together?” He was steadily raising his voice. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, tears brimming. This was not the closure she wanted. She didn’t want a fight.

            “Hongjoong.” He flinched at the sound of his name coming from her lips. The way it sounded like a curse broke his heart. “I’m dating Yeosang and I’m not going to break up with him just because you had this preconceived notion that I would wait around until you were ready to admit your feelings.”

            “You love me.” He countered, unable to think of anything else to say.

            “I loved you. I don’t anymore.” She lied. The love she had for him isn’t a love that would just disappear just because he’s hurt her over and over. She was used to the pain he put her through, used to the heartbreak, and the sneaking around. Used to him whispering words of love into her ear just to scream to the world she was just a friend. She was used to it all and loved him anyway.

            But she deserves more. More than someone who pulls her in just to push her away seconds later. More than someone who could only love her in secret. She deserves Yeosang. Someone who treats her completely different than Hongjoong did. He pulls her in and holds her tightly. He isn’t afraid to tell the world she’s his. So why does she still want Hongjoong?

            “I’m fixing myself for you! I’m doing everything to be better for you!”

            “Well you should have thought of that before!” The more he raised his voice the more she raised hers to match. It was becoming clearer to him now that she was not the same girl he first met. He hurt her over and over to the point that she built walls around her. Unbreakable walls. Walls even he couldn’t penetrate. “I waited for you but you were never ready. I was willing to wait years for you because I loved you that much. You ended things with me, remember that.”

            “Because I wanted to fix myself before coming back to you! I wanted to work through the hurt I had before you.” His voice got quieter as he thought about his ex. “I dated someone before you and she made me not want to fall in love ever again. But then you came along and I fell for you before I could stop myself.”

            “What a fucking cop out.” She scoffed.

            “It’s not. It’s the truth. Should we ask Seonghwa?” He pointed upstairs, cocking his head to the side.

            “Fine.” She followed Hongjoong to Seonghwa’s room. “Still a cop out answer.” She mumbled under her breath as they walked up the stairs. She too had been hurt before meeting Hongjoong. But he took the hurt and made it better. She was afraid at first. Afraid that he would turn out exactly like Jeongin.

            “Seonghwa I need you to tell Y/n about my ex – OH MY GOD!!!” Hongjoong immediately turned away after entering the room. Seonghwa was fucking Kayla from behind, hand wrapped around her throat, forcing her to look in the mirror to watch what he was doing to her.

            “Damn. Get it mommy.” Y/n giggled. Seonghwa was still thrusting into her.

            “I’m trying.” Kayla replied.

            “Get the fuck out.” Seonghwa said before pressing his lips to her shoulder, sucking her skin to leave a mark. Y/n nodded and told them to have fun before closing the door. “Never knew she was so kinky.” Y/n joked as her and Hongjoong went back downstairs.

            “Can we please go back to talking about us and not what your best friend is into in the bedroom?”

            “Hongjoong there is no us. I told you that already.”

            “So you’d rather talk about what Kayla is into than fix us? What kind of fucking bullshit is that? You came all this way for what? Some stupid ass closure. Do you think you’re in a movie or something? Life doesn’t work like that Y/n.”

            “Why are you being an asshole right now?” Silence fell over them as Hongjoong stared at her, unsure of what to say. He didn’t have an answer. “I wish I could go back to the day we met.” He stepped closer to her, reaching out to cup her face, wipe away the tears that were beginning to fall.

            “Me too. I would do everything right if I had a second chance. I would never hurt you. I would love you properly from day one.” She pulled away from him, shaking her head with a look of disgust in her eyes.

            “I wish I could go back to the day we met so I could turn around and never meet you.” She turned away from him and left, promising herself she would never go back to Hongjoong. Walking down the same path filled with memories that once made her happy. Memories that now made her angry. Why was she so in love with him? She doesn’t remember him being like this before. Too blinded by love. The rose coloured glasses have fallen and she can see him for who he really is. The one that causes her pain.

back to masterlist

@mxnsxngie @maeleelee @lethallyprotected @choisoorin @berryblog @anyamaris @nebulousbookshelf @junebug032 @jaydebow @halesandy @okkkcausewhet @dandycharmer @aestheticsluut @the-anarchist-public @kpoprhia @hanschimpmunk @itsmeeekai @grayscorner @weird-bookworm @minhoino @ibedreaminghighupinthesky @kpop-in-new-albion @felixmainacc @yunstarz @writersun @thatfavouritesong @hegdus @alyszaen @smally97 @chanscase143 @lookitsjess @punkhazardlaw @huachengsbestie01

#ateez imagine #ateez x reader #ateez au #ateez smau #ateez fake texts #ateez series #ateez #kim hongjoong imagine #kim hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong au #kim hongjoong smau #kim hongjoong fake texts #kim hongjoong series #kang yeosang imagine #kang yeosang x reader #kang yeosang au #kang yeosang smau #kang yeosang fake texts #kang yeosang series #park seonghwa #kim hongjoong #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho

[reddbuster]

I've talked about this before but I don't think I worded it all that well so I kinda want to try again to articulate what it is that bothers me about Dahlia's writing cause I have some thoughts.

We really aren't supposed to like Dahlia. The text does not like her. She is supposed to be an evil, manipulative girl. A wolf in sheep's clothing. This is made very clear. From the moment we are introduced to her character, Mia herself very clearly doesn't like her. She is written to be a difficult and frustrating witness, having already wrapped most of the courtroom around her finger. Cross examining her is even more of an uphill battle than usual. The first time we beat her in turnabout memories is satisfying to the player, because we know justice is being served. Even when we learn her story, we aren't really lead to closely examine or to sympathize with it. Because Ace Attorney is not a game in which we decide if someone deserves to go to jail. It's a game where we deduce whether or not someone is a criminal. And Dahlia, by definition, is undoubtedly a criminal. She's a liar, and a manipulator, and a serial murderer. Mind you, the game isn’t COMPLETELY unsympathetic to her situation. Iris, her twin and narrative foil of a sort, Is an example of the kind of person Dahlia could have become if her circumstances were different. Iris even says as much herself. Ace Attorney acknowledges that Dahlia is a victim of her circumstances, at least to an extent. But it also treats her as if she’s too far gone to be worthy of any kind of closure. And more than anything else that's what bothers me about her story. Because if you take a minute to think about her at all beyond this very orthodox formalist lens she's SO MUCH MORE THAN THAT. She's suuuuch an interesting and complex and compelling character if you look below the surface but the game really doesn't encourage you to do that and that makes me really sad honestly. From a psychoanalytic lens I personally think that agency (or the perceived lack-thereof) is a big point in her story and that more than anything is what makes me want to write about her from a feminist lens, because agency is a really big point of feminist literary theory.

I've seen a couple people say that they don't think Dahlia needs to be thought about deeply because they see her as a cartoonish sort of villain character like Manfred and Engarde. And obviously this isn't an objectively wrong reading, anyone who follows me knows that I'm the first person to tell you that are multiple good and valid readings of a text. But PERSONALLY I disagree with this. I think Manfred is easier to read like that because he doesn't really have an.. understandable reason for any of his crimes? Like lets be real the murder of Gregory Edgeworth was petty as hell. Personally I think he's pretty interesting himself and worth thinking about deeper esp after watching the anime but I also thinks he fulfills the role of capital V Villain in the game really well so you don't need to if he doesn't compel you that much. Engarde imo is much more interesting as a character if you view him as a culmination of the game's themes, or as a device to cause conflict within other characters. Ofc you can psychoanalyze him to hell and back if that's what you wanna do, but you really don't need to at all. Dahlia on the other hand.. way too much has happened to her for me to comfortably read her as just Girlboss Manipulator Villain™. The more I think about Dahlia the more I appreciate her as a character, and it makes aa3 even better to me. Of course it also brings to light some of my issues with the game, but even so everything just hits harder when you consider the ending of aa3 from everyone's perspective. It's just such a bittersweet conclusion it hits me in the feels very time.

anyway TLDR I support women's wrongs and I personally think Dahlia deserved better from the story. I dunno the more I think about her the more her story just makes me sad and I just wish they gave her some kind of closure in the end. This is just my take tho don't come after me ok thankies

#one of my original posts defending Dahlia got someone really pissed at me LMAO #fey girls tag #ace attorney #dahlia ace attorney #dahlia hawthorne #aa3

[howlingday]

Personally, if I wrote for Vol 8, I wouldn't have some big argument about Yang and Blake telling Robyn about Amity. I would have just had someone bring it up, Yang and Blake try to justify what they did, and then everyone just glares at them. No shouting, no arguing, just cold glares telling the two of them they messed up. Imagine how heart wrenching (but a little badass) it would be if Yang tried to get Ruby to agree, only for her little sister to shut her down and go into leader mode, not wanting to hear Yang explain how she and Blake broke her's, Weiss, and Team JNPRr's trust. Imagine Blake and Yang seeing that, while their hearts where in the right place, their actions had personal consequences. The amount of drama and tension would have been soul crushing, but so reliving when they reunite back at the mansion and get to have a proper talk. (Sorry that I keep bringing this up. I'm a little hyper on sugar at the moment)

Nah, nah, it's cool.

Rewriting Volume 8, though... It could be written better. Starting off at right about... "Worst Case Scenario". Right after Ironwood gives the order to capture Robyn Hill and Tyrian Callows, we cut to Blake and Yang talking about whether or not they should have told Ironwood about what they learned about Salem. Yang says that he should know because he deserves to know what he's getting himself into, "like we all did". Blake argues that Ironwood would just overreact, like he's doing now with his plans for martial law, to which Yang agrees, but mostly because there's not a lot of good options for their current situation. And then...

Oh... Oh god dam- MOTHER FUCKER! THEY DID REFERENCE ADAM! Fucking- AGH! THIS is your attempt at giving us closure about them murdering Adam?! Just vaguely referencing what happened in Seeing Red?! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Anyways, Yang then comes up with the idea to not ambush Robyn. When they finally catch up to her, they try to reason that Ironwood already knows about the supplies missing and how he plans on sending more than "just a couple of kids". Robyn then shows off her semblance, natural lie detector that she is, and learns that Ironwood is using the Amity Colosseum to build a new communication tower.

They then discuss what Ironwood is trying to accomplish with all this secrecy, and to be honest, I can't argue with his logic. Salem is coming to Atlas, as evident by the presence of Tyrian Callows, who Ironwood knows is in her inner circle. Trust is a big part of the Atlas arc, and Ironwood can't trust anybody but himself. Enacting martial law would give him a tighter grip on control on the kingdom, allowing him to personally redirect resources and manpower wherever without any civilian or rebel interference. And what would happen if everyone knew about Amity Colosseum being used this way? Well, Tyrian is going to go on another killing spree until there's enough Grimm there to prevent ANY construction. Salem is playing a game where she has every advantage.

But back to Yang and Blake telling everyone everything, it's shortly after this that player three enters the chat. Knock, knock, who's there?

It's HER... with HER.

These two menaces show up and drive the schism even further after Ironwood decides to tell everyone about Salem. Unfortunately, even after collaborating with Robyn Hill on this, he becomes injured fighting Arthur Watts and orders martial law to be enacted, resulting in THE DUMBEST FIGHT IN RWBY HISTORY! ...But I digress. Anyway, Ironwood can't trust anyone anymore and, in his defense, he didn't think to ask Robyn if she or anyone she knew was working with Salem. Not accusing her of it, but I still feel like if you're paranoid to think that anyone could be working with Salem, you'd start having a woman who can get you an honest answer on your staff ASAP. Then Ironwood makes his plan known after Salem makes her presence known, and Team RWBY stand together when Ironwood makes the decision to raise Atlas into the sky. Team RWBY stand against him, leading us to probably the second-best fight of V7 (if it's war that you want, then you got it! If it's pain, then I've brought what you need! If it's true what they say, that you're the best, then let's play!). Ruby quickly lets JNR and Oscar know before martial law is established and the group becomes public enemy number one.

But hold on! When does Ruby and Yang start yelling at each other? When do we get to an actual answer to the ask? Well, I guess it comes in the next Volume, right after a word from our sponsors!

And we're back! Welcome to V8, where we can finally have the answer to the question of "How should Ruby have reacted?" First, real quick, here's why she didn't respond before; General Ironwood dropped the bigger truth bomb, and Salem dropped the biggest truth bomb by saying "Your mother."

Honestly, we were about to get a Ruby v. Yang matchup until Ren stepped in to remind everyone that the plot is happening, and he just wants to get this Volume over with already. Straight from "Divide":

Yang: What you’re saying is it can’t be done. It’s pointless. And even if you got the message out, there’s no guarantee help would come. Ruby becomes annoyed while Yang speaks. Ruby: It’s not pointless! Atlas is only Salem’s current target. She’s not hiding anymore and once she’s done here she’ll move on to the rest of Remnant. We need to warn them! Yang stands in silence for a moment. Yang: Ruby… when we came here, we said we’d follow your lead… but... things haven’t exactly worked out. Ruby recoils somewhat with a mix of emotions on her face. Yang’s statement elicits various reactions from Weiss, Nora, Oscar and Penny, as well. Yang: I just-- Ren steps forward, interrupting Yang. Ren: There are people here who need us right now.

And again, I reiterate, ad nauseum, RWBY focuses too much on the plot to let their characters be themselves. That's why we never got a beach episode. If the plot WASN'T happening so much, we'd probably get a scene like this...

Yang: I just- Ruby steps closer. Ruby: You just what? You just thought you'd go off on your own behind our backs? Do things without telling us? Yang huffs, narrowing her eyes at Ruby. Yang: You're not the boss of me, Ruby. Ruby: I'm your leader! I am EXACTLY your boss! Yang: You don't to make my decisions for me! Ruby: After everything you just did, as your leader, clearly, I do! Blake steps closer to Yang and Weiss steps closer to Ruby. Yang then raises her hand to Ruby's hood, her eyes flashing red for a moment before she softens and lowers her hand. She then walks away to lean against the wall. Yang: Yeah... Okay... Whatever you say, miss "leader". Weiss and Blake let out sighs and relax a bit, though Ruby does cast a glare at Blake for a moment, making her flinch. Ruby then walks away, as distant to Yang as she could. Ren then steps closer, looking uncomfortable as he glances between the feuding sisters. Ren: ...So, uh, what should we do now?

AAAAAND scene! How's that? This also sets up for Blake and Ruby apologizing later in their episode of infiltrating AND sets up for a much more touching reunion between Yang and Ruby!

#rwby #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #my thoughts #my answer #my answers #james ironwood #ruby rose #lie ren

[blacklesbothatlovestowrite]

Telekinesis Pt 2

Shuri x Fem Reader

"Sthandwa..." Shuri starts but quickly corrects herself at the look on your face. "Y/n."

You stare at her blankly. You don't want to talk. You want her the fuck out of your apartment. She didn't get to make herself feel better by gaining 'closure' or whatever the fuck this was.

"I love you." She starts but you let out a bitter laugh interrupting her.

"You've got a funny way of showing it." You snort, trying to breathe through your laughing.

"Whether you believe me or not, it's the truth." She asserts. You had to force yourself not to roll your eyes because at this point you felt over the conversation and over her bullshit. "I was a different person back then. I knew I was fucked up and I still pursued you because I was selfish. I knew I was hurting you and I felt it was better I let you go before I did anything worse than I already had."

"What do you mean by that? You had to let me go before you did anything worse?" You focus on the tail end of her sentence. What the fuck did that even mean? Worse than she already had?

"You know I was struggling with my duties in Wakanda, and the loss of my family. I barely grieved my brother before I was grieving the loss of my mother. I was in a terrible place and I just couldn't let anyone in." Shuri looks downright ashamed and you can't find it in you to care. "The more I ignored you, the easier it was for me to not have to open up. I didn't have to think about how disappointed you were in me or how much I hurt you. It was selfish but at the time I couldn't offer you anything that you deserved."

"It didn't take you more than a millisecond to fuck someone else." You hated how much that affected you.

"Y/n, I was in a bad place and I turned to sex for comfort. You have to know it meant nothing, those women meant nothing to me." Shuri swears but you can't focus on what she's saying. Only on the confirmation that she had in fact fucked all the women she'd been linked to.

You felt sick just thinking about all the women you compared yourself to when you were bigger. How you cried, starved yourself and worked yourself ragged just to look somewhat similar to those women. The biggest knife to your back was her having a completely different type cast than you, which fucked with your head even more.

"How can you say you love me when all you've done is hurt me." Your breath hitched as you tried to blink away the tears stinging your eyes.

"Sthandwa, losing you hurt like hell." She cups your face in her hands. A move that would have warmed your insides if it weren't for all the mixed emotions running through you. "As much as I wanted you, I needed to lose you to love me. I couldn't be what you needed and that hurt more than anything but I just needed to find myself, and I couldn't do that if we were together because I would have been fighting the same demons."

You aren't sure if her revelation is better than what your mind had conjured up after all this time. Knowing you couldn't help her, fix her, heal her was painful. You would have done anything for her and she didn't want or need that.

The whole time she spoke you felt more and more overwhelmed. You had made so many assumptions as to the reason she cut you off, ghosted you. Nothing compared to this. You didn't know what to feel because how could you be angry at her for putting herself first? She didn't disrespect you, she never cheated, she simply distanced herself slowly before breaking up with you.

Were you selfish for hating her actions? Maybe, however you couldn't dissect that right now. Finally having some answers that had plagued your mind for so long wasn't like what you thought it would feel like. And that in itself was a whole headache.

A knock at your door broke up the uncomfortable silence. You moved off of Shuri's lap and swiped at your face before taking a breath and heading for the door.

"I know damn well you did not kick Dylan out to obsess over that b--" Lexi's rant is cut short when she sees Shuri sitting on the sofa. All the shit she was talking getting caught in her throat as she froze.

"Hello Lexi." Shuri greets her.

"You have some nerve showing up now and attempting to disturb Y/n's life." Lexi hissed. She'd been waiting for this moment for years. She hated the sight of Shuri, after all the sleepless nights, the crying, the break downs, and the not eating. She despised her.

"I--"

"You don't get to speak. Y/n may fall for the bullshit but I won't. Do you know what you did to her? Do you know how badly you hurt her? You look at her now and you more than likely see a finer more detailed her but you didn't get to see what it took to get her here. She cried herself to sleep for months! Wouldn't eat beyond a few bites here and there! She had to get therapy just to fucking get her to eat properly!" Lexi's face was darkening by the second, you had never seen her more angry and that was telling considering she went on a Shuri shit talking rant whenever you went lurking on social media.

Shuri's face dropped as the Words registered in her mind. She looked from Lexi to you and the look made you feel for her. She looked absolutely devastated. You felt embarrassed by Lexi's rant. As if Shuri was seeing you under a new set of eyes, you crossed your arms over your chest and looked away.

"Meanwhile you were off partying and fucking all these models and socialite's. You were the worst thing that happened to her and you have the fucking nerve to show up after all you caused to what? Fuck with her even more?" Lexi's voice is raising with every word and you cringe.

"Lex..." You mutter her name. "Please stop."

She took her irate eyes off of Shuri to look at you. She exhaled before nodding.

"You need to leave Y/n the fuck alone. You don't deserve her. You never have and you never will. She finally has someone that treats her better than you ever did, could. Don't ruin that for her. She has a weakness when it comes to you, don't take advantage of it." Lexi utters.

Shuri swallowed hard. She wasn't sure what she was hoping to accomplish by coming to see you but to hear what you'd been through made her feel disgusted with herself. She never thought you'd take her breaking up with you that bad. She knew you'd be hurt, she knew you'd even be angry but she never knew it could have ever been that bad.

"I'm sorry." Her voices sounds broken, the look in her eyes was haunting you as she stood. "I won't bother you again."

You watched with bated breath as she walked out the door, every step she took causing your chest to tighten.

"Why would you say those things?" You cried. "You had no right to tell her--"

"I had EVERY right Y/n!" Lexi glared at you. "I know you. I know you have never gotten over her. A few sweet words and you'd be right back in that toxic ass bitch's bed."

"And if I was? That's not your problem. I make my own decisions. I don't need you to fight my battles and I damn sure don't need you to speak for me." Every word held contempt. You were pissed at her for overstepping. Even if she'd done it from a good place.

"Y/n look at you right now." She scoffs. "You're so fucking pussy whipped by that selfish bitch that you can't see just how stupid you're being. Do you think Dylan will ever forgive you fucking your ex?"

"Why do you give a fuck about Dylan????? I'm your best friend! What I want should matter to you!" You huff. You felt so drained.

"So you want the same bitch who dropped you like you were trash?" Lexi raised a brow.

"I don't know what I want. But I'd appreciate it if you were supportive instead of judgmental or scolding. I'm grown. If you can't accept me and my 'pussy whipped' mentality then fucking leave. You do not get to make me feel worse than I already do!" You shivered as you let out the sob you were barely holding in. "Don't you think I hate myself already for loving her still? Don't you think I'd let go of her if I could?"

"Oh, babe..." Lexi walked over and hugged you. The moment her arms encased you, you broke down.

-

The next day is shitty. You choose go ignore texts from Dylan or Lexi. After your breakdown you'd kicked Lexi out wanting to be alone. And so far you were stuck in a shitty mood.

You felt like shit. You couldn't help the feelings you'd tried to bury for the longest. You felt so conflicted. After hearing Shuri out you weren't sure you could be angry at her, but at the same time you didn't think you could trust her again. Then there was Dylan you really liked her but she didn't inspire the feelings Shuri did.

Dylan was safe. She was the known. You knew you could have a life with her that consisted of love, respect and loyalty. She could provide you with a stable life that Shuri just couldn't guarantee. Shuri herself had admitted she was emotionally unavailable and even with what she'd said. She never once stated she wanted you back. She didn't want you. She only wanted to clear the air.

She wasn't chasing you, she wasn't yearning for you. She hadn't missed any sleep over you, she sure as hell wasn't crying for you. Maybe you were being cynical, maybe you were just too tired of hoping and praying for someone to chase you the way you chased Shuri.

Either way you felt guilty for being stuck on Shuri while Dylan tried her best to give you the experiences you deserved. Affection, Time, Comfort, Love, Memories that didn't include you feeling like shit or crying or hurt.

Despite all the things that were on your mind, you sent a text to Shuri's old number.

Come over, please. - Y/n

It was a long shot. You hadn't texted the line since you'd been ignored. You were sure she'd long since disconnected the line. As you busied yourself with cleaning your apartment and making a salmon Caesar salad, you kept checking your phone for a reply despite the fact your sound was on.

You ate your food, while enjoying a glass or three of wine. The latter being the amount you'd drank. You checked your phone to see several hours had passed since the text was sent and you felt foolish for thinking she would have responded. She'd gotten her closure. She could continue to party and fuck all those women.

After placing the leftovers in the fridge and washing the dishes. You decided to do your night routine, before walking around naked. One of the many joys of living in your own spot.

As you went to find something to wear you heard the door and went to look through the peephole. Taking a deep breath you opened the door and let her in. You watched as she take you in, her eyes taking in every inch of you.

You closed and locked the door behind her, before turning to face her. Before you knew it you were lying on your bed with your legs spread and her fingers in your core.

Everything became a blur as you got lost in the sensations. You weren't sure how much time had passed but you knew it had been quite a bit by the darkness in your room.

"I'm sorry..." You whisper as she spooned you.

"You don't have to apologize Y/n." She assures you, her hand rubbing your hip.

"I do. I didn't mean to call you that.."

"You did and that's fine. I'm not delusional nor am I stupid. I know you still love her. I can only hope you can love me just as much." Dylan admits. She was too good for you.

"I don't know what to do." You mumble.

"Then don't do anything. I don't need commitment right now, I just need you however I can get you." Dylan kisses the top of your head.

-

In the middle of the night your phone alerts you to a text. You turn your head to see Dylan is knocked out before reaching for your phone.

Sorry I didn't respond right away. I wasn't sure what to say. - Shuri

No worries, I wasn't sure this number was still yours anyway. - Y/n

Well now you know it is. - Shuri

Can we have dinner tomorrow? - Shuri

Why? - Y/n

I know I don't deserve you but I can't let go of you again. - Shuri

I'm seeing someone. - Y/n

It can be a friendly dinner. No expectations. I'll take you anyway I can get you. - Shuri

Fine, but you want to take me out. You're picking me up. - Y/n

Great! How does seven tomorrow sound? - Shuri

It's fine. Goodnight. - Y/n

You place your phone done to go back to sleep right as another text comes in.

Goodnight Umfazi, sleep well. - Shuri

#Spotify #shuri black panther #princess shuri #shuri udaku #shuri smut #shuri x fem!reader #shuri x black!reader

[complexcritterscave]

UPDATE MR AND BIVE THEORY!!!!

I was gonna post this earlier but I fell asleep and couldn’t fight the sleep demons. Plus there were a bunch of spelling mistakes so I fixed them.

Anyway here’s the updated theory

As you may remember from the much older post, I said how MR taunted Bive and drove her insane. But what if it was deeper than that?

Bive is a failed/accidental lab experiment

MR used to be apart of the science team (or is still apart of it)

Perhaps it was trying to make some sort of successor should something happen to it. Considering the fact that MR has a cybernetic God, any angry laser shooting cat, and possibly other enemies after its stony head, it’d make sense. It’d make sense if MR was the one who created Bive on accident.

It saw how she lacked pretty much all the features it wanted its successor to have and would’ve disposed of her but saw no purpose wasting valuable time and energy on such a task. Overtime the young hairy creature followed it everywhere, assisting it in its task to the point of exhaustion.

MR took notice of her loyalty and had a slight change of what little of a heart it had.

This is where the cult comes in. MR found her loyalty to it impressive as he watched her chase anyway any lingering bugs or helped pick up fallen items. It noticed how she never got along with any of the other members on its team and would always come running back to it no matter what. It was from that that MR decided to try teach her its ways, in hopes that she could very possibly lead the cult that follow it. Of which she would lead it, considering they obeyed it and any commands it gave them.

So they got to work. MR taught Bive everything she needed to know and Bive listened to it without any questions. Overtime as Bive grew she became more and more loyal to MR refusing to listen to anyone else who spoke to her. She didn’t even listen to its many victims who tried to warn her. What they said wasn’t what she was taught at all, they were all liars trying to lead her astray. But she couldn’t help but grow curious as to why they were so determined to do so.

Whenever she questioned MR about it, it always dismissed her with the same answer: They didn’t like it very much. It didn’t help quell her concerns and she was usually left with more questions than she had answers.

During this entire time MR was still trying to create a successor. However it never told Bive what it was doing. This led to her asking it about it, MR immediately snapped at her, which it never did before, and told her to leave, which she quickly did. Why was it so defensive about? Had she done something wrong? None of it made any sense.

After many weeks, she had finally had enough. She deserved answers to her questions. She worked just as hard as it, doing whatever it commanded and learning whatever MR taught her. She should have some closure right?

When the time was right, she snuck into its working area. Snooping through drawers and filing cabinets for anything she could get her hands onto. She found everything she was looking for yeah, but then her world was practically flipped upside down.

Everything she was taught, everything she was told, was an utter lie. She found out the truth about it, about the cult, even about the victims it tormented, she found out she wasn’t supposed to exist and was supposed to be disposed of when she was first created, She even saw its plans for creating a successor for if something were to ever happen to it.

She couldn’t believe it, she didn’t want to believe it. But the evidence was sitting right in front of her face. Bive was overcome with a strong sense of shame and was understandably upset. Eventually it stirred into anger and rage. She was angry with MR for lying to her, for causing so much harm. As a result, she took everything. The plans, the documents, even the files for its successor, she took it all and she left. She ran off with all of its work without even looking back.

MR, of course, wasn’t happy about this. In fact, it was absolutely enraged by the fact that the very being it practically raised as its own blood, had betrayed it. All that hard work it put into her becoming the perfect leader, wasted. But there was no use crying over spilled milk. It would get its revenge, and it knew just how to do it.

Bive, now trying to save other people from falling into the same trap she did, began trying to spread the word of it. Unfortunately her reputation had been rather damaged from the rock itself and how she was known to follow it blindly. Very few people looked her way, and fewer listened. Of course it was frustrating but she didn’t give up, not yet at least.

MR, being a being of divine authority, began to haunt Bive within her mind. Giving her nightmares, continuing to fill her with lies, manipulating her into thinking other things followed it. It lied to her about the cult saying how they infiltrated the government as well as lied to her about random nonsensical things such as number 2 pencils, clowns, and the snow soldier militia.

All of these things, along with the fact the very thing she ran away from was now stalking her aroused every corner, both metaphorically and "physically", began to drive her mad. She didn’t know who or what she could trust anymore.

She began not sleeping out of fear that it would be there, causing her to make her special brew to keep her awake. She stopped eating often as well, believing it somehow had control over the food too. Everything and everyone was a threat and possibly worked underneath it. They probably wanted to catch her and drag her back to it.

As a result she hid in the maze, the twisting and turning walls and dead ends would confuse anyone who entered, if Scary Mike didn’t get to them first. It would give her plenty of time to escape with everything important.

However this works well in MR’s favour. It knows no one is actually going to be coming after Bive, at least not yet. No one would actively seek out a crazy person would they? Of course not. Her isolating herself would only make it harder for her to spread the truth about it and its plans.

Now I know what you’re probably asking: "Critter! You said in the other post that Poob also ties into this. But you didn’t explain how!"

Let me get to it damn. So impatient 🙄😒 /j

Anyway, as most of us know, the same spirit that’s controlling MR also protects Poob from the explosion at the Happy House Party. Not to mention in one of the dialogues with Bive, she asks if they had seen "the group", which could very well be the cult members. You’d think Poob would be like "What group? I haven’t seen a group…" and they do! They do say that! But what really sets it off is how they apologize and how their head is fuzzy.

What if MR, after failing with Bive, is now trying to get Poob to become the next leader of the cult? It has no motive to be protecting them from the explosion, it just does it anyway. What if Poob has ties with the cult and MR manages to wipe their memory when needed? Perhaps it’s trying to use Poob to get back at Bive in some way.

That would also explain Poobs strange way of talking to others, with each memory wipe, they become more and more forgetful and basic tasks they originally had no problem completing are not becoming a bit more challenging than before.

It could also explain why Poob is so obsessed with partying. MR could be using the obsession as a distraction to prevent them from asking questions about what’s going on with them as well as prevent them from listening to Bive whenever she’s around.

Of course this was just me yapping but as our beloved Matthew Patrick once said:

Hope you enjoyed!

#regretevator #regretevator bive #bive #bive regretevator #mr #regretevator mr #mr regretevator #poob regretevator #poob #regretevator poob #she regret on my evator #this is just a theory #don’t take this too seriously #if you have anything to add on #please do and tag me in it #I’d love to see it! #anyways #cya #at least for now

[frevandrest]

Hiii, I read your post about Olympe de Gouges and It opened me a world since everything I was told in school was basically what you say is wrong. Why was she actually executed? Do you know anything I could read to know more about the metter and her figure in general?

Okay, so de Gouges is not my expertise - if anyone knows good sources on her, please let us know.

But I do know she was executed for her political writings about the how the revolution should continue, organization of government, etc. and not for her feminist writings (yes, feminist writings are political, but I will separate them for clarity). She was targeted for things that were deemed royalist sympathizing - disagreeing with the execution of Louis XVI, supporting constitutional monarchy and I believe some things that were deemed pro-Marie Antoinette. We can say bullshit (or if true, does someone deserves to die for that?) - but it opens up wider questions about frev trials in general and political in-fighting (not just Montagnard vs Girondin). But the point is, Girondin men also died for the same reasons as de Gouges.

So, it was not about her "Declaration of the Woman and the Citizeness" or any other specifically proto-feminist writing. She was tried as a Girondin sympathizer (ironically, though morbidly, in an equal way with men)* - this was a push against Girondins, and it mostly targeted men. *She did warn about the inequality of that - a woman can be tried and executed as a man even though she doesn't have his political rights (as in, if a woman doesn't have political rights, then she shouldn't be held responsible and executed for political things).

So it wasn't about feminism (let alone abolitionism). But! - it's not like the whole thing was devoid of general 18c sexism (or, well, timeless sexism that's not just 18c). The way she was talked about or criticized, often had a sexist dimension, because she was a woman and was attacked as a woman. This speaks about general sexism in the society more than her writing or feminism (or even innocence). Marie Antoinette was often ridiculed in sexist (and homophobic) ways, which does not make her a feminist (and she was also guilty af of counter-revolutionary things). But this is something that should be said about de Gouges or, generally, about women at the time - they were subjected to sexism and sometimes dismissed in sexist ways. Madame Roland understood that really well, and she tried defending herself as a proper woman who never deviated from her domestic roles, despite of the fact that she was super influential politically (more than any other woman of the time, and more than de Gouges - Mme Roland participated in high politics even though women did not formally had equal political rights - but she participated informally, and was very influential, more than many men). Sexism, was, sadly, a convenient excuse to use whenever possible, and definitely not something that only Montagnards employed (see Condorcet - generally one of the most pro-gender equality men at the time - criticizing working class women who supported Robespierre in sexist + classist terms).

(Another example is the closure of the women's clubs, namely "The Society of Revolutionary Republican Women" - it's often said it happened because revolutionaries were sexists and did not want to allow women to participate in politics. This is not the reason: they closed the clubs because they were deemed politically dangerous at the time (and often more radical than Jacobins lol). But the explanation was, among other things, "well, women should stay at home" - which is not a true reason, but it was easy to use as an excuse, because the culture of 18c was sexist in general).

tl;dr: De Gouges was executed for royalist sympathizing (not that she necessarily was - I don't know enough about her opinions) and for associating herself with Girondins. She was not executed for being a feminist or abolitionist. (She was both, but she was not the only one - especially when it comes to abolitionism; her enemies were too. I would also say that Montagnards also fought for women's' rights although not in the same way, but that's another topic). The point is, feminism (let alone abolitionism) is not why she was put on trial and executed.

#ask #frev #oh and a few more things #i believe de gouges actually distanced herself from girondins at one point #so idk if it would be fair to call her one

[vex91]

Treat you better

Chapter 4: Dinner

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3rd's POV

"So you came back to Seoul huh? That's actually amazing" You looked at Yuqi confused, she asked you about your life before and why you chose to move to Seoul. You weren't sure why did you feel such closure to her but you told her everything about Minnie and how you left to move on from her and Yuqi listened to you intently. It made you feel really special as Minnie never really showed any signs of her listening to you when she opened her company.

"You gathered courage to come back to the place so deeply connected with your ex-girlfriend, that's really amazing considering that she's everywhere. I swear I saw her face on the building in front of my dentist one day" She joked successful making you laugh. You took a bite of your food as she added "You're really amazing, I don't think I would be able to come back to a place where my ex-girlfriend was so well-known, it was hard enough to get over her as it was" She looked at her food, a sad look appeared on her face for a moment before she smiled again.

"A hard break up?" You asked, Yuqi nodded "Yeah, she cheated on me with her co-worker. I found out through our mutual friend and immediately ended it" Feeling bad for the girl you tried cheering her up so you put your hand over hers "She clearly didn't deserved you. I'm happy you chose your own happiness over sticking with her" Yuqi looked up at you in surprise but soon smiled.

"Thank you Y/N, it means a lot"

We stared at each other for a few seconds but it felt longer as you enjoyed the feeling of her hand under yours.

My phone rang causing me to pull my hand away to grab it. I apologized to Yuqi and took the call.

"Hey L/N, we had some... changes in our workers and you've been put to another company" Your boss said nervously, you got confused "What do you mean?" You asked not understanding him "Well we had to put someone in another company but all of ours are already full so we contacted one of my friends and she said she can take you in. I know it's sudden but your pay will increase by a lot" Truthfully you weren't happy about it but the increase in pay was really tempting as you really needed money.

After agreeing to it he said that he will send you address of the company soon and that you're starting next week.

Hanging up you looked at Yuqi who looked curious about the call "Who was it?" She asked taking another bite of her food "My boss. Apparently I'm being put in another company with a better pay" She looked confused about why he would do that but she soon shrugged it as nothing "Maybe it's nothing. At least they're gonna pay you more for all that trouble" She said trying to not make you worried about it.

"Yeah" You mumbled. You finished your food and yawned a little "We should get going, it's getting late" Yuqi said stretching a little, you watched her do it, your eyes locked on the way her muscles were flexing and she smiled when she noticed you staring "You like what you see?" You blushed at her words before coughing feeling embarrassed "Let's just go" You stood up and tried paying but before you could do it, Yuqi beat you to it "Don't worry about it, I was the one who invited you here" She send you a wink and opened the door for you.

You both walked home slowly, obviously wanting to spend more time together. The silence between you felt comforting, you felt so comfortable with each other, you never knew you could feel like that with anyone other than Minnie.

It felt nice.

A cold wind made you shake a little as you didn't took your jacket from home since it was pretty warm before. A warm fabric was placed over your shoulders and the familiar perfume you started to love enveloped you. Looking to the side you saw Yuqi smiling warmly at you "You need to bring jackets with you, you never know when it gets cold after all. We wouldn't want you freezing" You blushed at her words but tried to protest "Aren't you going to be cold?" You pointed at her shirt that wasn't the warmest but she shrugged it off.

"I'll be fine, I would rather be cold than have you cold" She said looking at the front. You smiled before continuing your walk home. She walked you to your front door "Thank you for joining me for dinner Y/N" Yuqi said, she was really grateful to be able to spend some time with you "I had a great time so it's okay" You smiled at her and tried giving her the jacket but she stopped you "Keep it, you look cute in it" She winked at you as she turned around and started waking to her house "See you tomorrow pretty girl" She waved at you.

You smiled waving back at her "See you tomorrow" turning around you walked into the house and closed the door before leaning on them. You hugged the jacket closer to yourself smelling her perfume again.

Yuqi was so... wow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: Y/N and Minnie were a couple ever since College but when Minnie started working on building her company she became distant with Y/N which resulted in them breaking up. Y/N left Korea for a while but after coming back she met her new neighbor, Song Yuqi who clearly got interested in her. What will happen to Y/N when her ex-girlfriend comes back to the picture?

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Taglist: @jisooftme @jeindall777 @qfyensbgl @keervah @gayforalll @imthisclosetokms @lovepjohootoa

#(g)i-dle x reader #gidle x reader #(g)i-dle reactions #gidle reactions #nicha yontararak x reader #minnie x reader #song yuqi x reader #nicha yontararak #minnie #song yuqi #written series

[psycheofaphaggot]

we’re opening the floodgates people because the only thing i think about ever, and what i WILL shout from the top of every rooftop i come across

DINA IS THE PERFECT WOMAN.

i don’t care. i don’t care what anyone else says. i don’t care if your opinion is different because you’re wrong.

she’s witty, she smart, she’s incredibly fucking kind, patient, and yet so strong willed and never not willing to speak her thoughts even when she’s unbelievably scared. she’s so perfect it hurts honestly.

one of the things that breaks me the most about dina and ellie’s dynamic throughout the entirety of part 2 is dina’s part in it all. her, irrevocably in love with one of her closest friends, JUST after finally confessing to one another officially is suddenly thrust into a WAR where she can only be a bystander. ignoring the whole pregnancy thing, just that is fucking insane.

and she handles it with the utmost care and patience. moreso than honestly anyone around her deserved (not that these characters didn’t deserve kindness).

i could go in depth about how much i believe ellie williams is one of the best representations of PTSD in modern media today but as much as seeing that breaks me, watching dina deal alongside her is infinitely worse. ellie is a character who has just lost her entire world basically, only a few years after seemingly losing her purpose for being alive at all. with no closure. she’s sad, she’s angry, she’s broken, she feels essentially unloveable.

and dina treats her with the gentleness of a morning breeze. you know the thing thats like “character who feels unloveable and the other character who loves them like its breathing”? yeah.

dina is patient, kind, stable. she is exactly the thing that ellie needs. she never blames ellie for her outbursts, she never insinuates that ellie should get over her emotions faster, and even better she doesn’t even treat ellie like glass that could shatter at any moment. she just loves her. in the easiest way one could possibly be loved.

and its hard. it’s difficult and they both go through an unbelievable amount of trauma together and yet they still come out on top. they’re still able to build the semblance of a life together in the ashes of what they’ve lost.

as someone who identifies a lot of myself in ellie. everything about their love and how they love each other does nothing but break me apart. its so full of hope yet so layered in nothing but destruction. it really is the worst kind of despair. especially because of their end. all of that work and just the existence of trauma is what throws it back in her face.

i am not the most eloquent person. im sure my thoughts are jumbled and insane and hard to understand when i write them out like this. but there are so many aspects of this games that are so fucking admirable. naughty dog found a way to tell a tragic story full of people. not good people, not bad people. just humans, and the world would devolve into when pushed to the absolute edge. and even before that. it is a story of the human race at its most raw.

and its heartbreaking. its enjoyable, its sadistic, its humorous and it’s absolutely gut wrenching. its beautiful.

this series will probably never not be my favorite game ever. i will scream about it and look like a crazy person, and i will keep finding more and more things to love about it.

but this is a ramble when its really supposed to be a dina appreciation post. i love her. everyone should love her. she’s such an amazing person and i think about her constantly. i hope that wherever she ended up, her and JJ live the happiest and most fulfilling life they can.

#dina tlou #dina woodward #dina appreciation post #the last of us part 2 #the last of us #dina and ellie #ellie williams #ellie tlou #im insane #i love her so much #jj tlou #please appreciate her as much as i do #literally the most patient woman on the planet #god i wish they could both just have a happy ending #but thats not reality is it #i’ll just be depressed then #rambles